The doors at the bottom of the stairs opened, revealing a narrow dirt path between twelve-foot wooden walls.

Rielle stared at the path in dismay, the crowd’s cries ringing in her ears.

“You will find Magister Belounnon in the maze’s heart,” the Archon explained, pointing at a structure in the distant center of the maze. “Each dead end you meet will result in his acolytes setting fire to a section of the maze that surrounds him.”

The world fell away, leaving Rielle adrift. She glared at the Archon. “How could you let this happen?”

The Archon’s face was grave. “Magister Belounnon insisted on it.”

“Then you should have stopped him!”

A horn blasted from one of the stands overhead.

Rielle nearly lunged at the man. “At least let me bring him his casting!”

“He requested that his casting remain with his sister,” the Archon replied.

The horn blasted a second time. Across the maze, hissing snakes of fire sprang to life along random stretches of wall.

Rielle ripped off her cloak and flung it to the ground. Feathers went flying; her palms blazed hot as she advanced on the Archon.

“If he dies,” she ground out, “I will flay every inch of skin from your body.”

The Archon did not flinch. “If he dies, Lady Rielle, you will have no one to blame but yourself. The maze will burn quickly. I suggest you run.”

A third horn blast. Rielle threw a desperate look at Sloane, then raced down the stairs and into the maze.

44

   Eliana

“They called her the Dread, not knowing that beneath the mask and cloak and painted-on smile, she was simply a girl. A girl with a heart that burned for blood.”

—The Terrible Tale of the Deadly Dark Dread by Remy Ferracora

Eliana grabbed Arabeth and Whistler, then lunged forward only to be yanked back by her left arm.

She whirled on Simon. “Let go of me!”

“No.” He held her fast. “Leave them.”

“Are you mad? That’s my brother!”

“And his life is nothing compared to yours.” Simon glanced once at the safe house. Eliana thought she saw the ghost of regret in his eyes. “Let’s go.”

Eliana twisted savagely in his grip. “I’ll kill you!”

“I don’t think you will.” He pulled her closer. “You’re intrigued by what I’ve said. You want to know more.”

She spat at his face. Simon chuckled.

“You are so like her,” he muttered darkly.

“I am like myself,” she hissed, “and no one else.”

She kicked his knee, swiped Whistler across his stomach, but he dodged quickly enough to miss the worst of it. She broke free and ran; he caught her once more. Panic was making her sloppy. She heard terrified cries from the safe house and shouted a furious curse.

“That’s it.” Simon struggled to hold on to her, chuckled breathlessly. “Rage at me, Eliana. Fight me. I’m keeping you from your brother. I’m keeping him in pain.”

“Let me go!”

“You can’t ignore your destiny forever. Let it rise, let the anger come. Wake up.”

She snarled, “I warned you,” then kneed him ruthlessly in the groin.

He dropped her, staggering.

She turned and ran.

“Zahra!” she called.

“Right here,” answered Zahra, rushing through the trees at her side. Her form flickered, wavering. “I’ll hide you from him for as long as I can.”

Together they raced out of the trees and past Rahzavel, who stood looking out at the forest with wild eyes. Eliana froze at the safe house door. Flames crawled up the roof; the trees on either side crackled with fire. She ripped off her jacket, wrapped it around her hand, and reached for the front door just as the rafters overhead crumbled. She jumped back, coughing.

“Here!” Zahra beckoned from a few yards away. A wooden door was set into the ground, draped with moss and covered with piles of rocks—a basement so well blocked that Remy and the others wouldn’t be able to get out from inside.

Eliana raced over, started frantically pushing away rocks. “Tell me what’s happening!”

Zahra peered around the house. “Simon has engaged your attacker. Who is this man?”

“Rahzavel.” Eliana ripped a sheet of moss from the door’s hinges.

Zahra hummed in disapproval. “He is Invictus.”

“Yes.” The door was jammed. She braced her foot against the frame and yanked hard. “I can’t open it!”

“El?” A voice sounded from beyond the door. “Is that you?”

“I’m here! The door is stuck!” Eliana pulled hard, every muscle in her body straining. “Push from the inside, when I say, you and Hob. Ready?”

Hob’s voice came faintly. “Ready!”

“One…two…three!”

She yanked at the door with all her strength, and it finally gave way. She flung it aside, reached down for Remy. Hob pushed him up and then Navi right after—all of them coughing, their faces streaked black from smoke. Remy clung to Eliana’s side; Hob hefted Navi over his shoulder, his expression grim.

He looked to Eliana. “What now?”

“We must go at once,” Zahra warned, her form shimmering. “Simon is nearly finished, and then Rahzavel will find us. My strength will fail at any moment.”

Hob’s eyes widened. “Who said that?”

Eliana turned, squinting through the smoke. Zahra was right: Simon was gravely hurt, holding his side. Rahzavel knocked away his sword, kicked his wound. Simon cried out in agony, knees buckling, and collapsed. Rahzavel stood over him, a crazed grin splitting his cheeks.

Eliana set her jaw against the hot swell of shame in her heart and turned away. “Then we’ll go north, toward the Narrow Sea.”

“But we can’t!” Remy tugged on her arm. “He’ll kill Simon!”

“And he won’t kill us.” Eliana glanced at Hob, who nodded once.

“Let’s go,” she said and hurried into the woods, holding Remy tightly by the hand. She saw him look back once, his eyes bright with tears, but did not allow herself to do the same.

45

   Rielle

“My students, please know this: I chose to give up my casting and bind myself inside my own maze. I did it for two simple reasons: I trust Rielle Dardenne, and I love her.”