Artemisia looks away, but she nods. “I’m not the only one who will disagree with you on this,” she says. “You know that. There are others who will want to bury every Kalovaxian, some who might not even want to spare the children.”

“I know,” I say, the pool of dread in my stomach deepening. “But this is the only way to have peace—not for their sakes, but for ours. I would like to live a peaceful life after all of this is done, and I can’t do that if this war keeps being reborn with each new generation.”

She doesn’t protest, but she doesn’t agree, either.

“I’ll get a message to my mother and start dividing those who want to stay with us and those who want to go with her,” she says finally, before walking toward the village center and leaving me alone with Blaise.

“You were quiet,” I say. “Do you think it was the right choice to make?”

He pauses before shrugging. “I don’t think any of us can say that with any certainty, Theo. I don’t know if we’ll really have the answer to that for years. Decades, even. But I understand your reasoning, and if I were in your position, I like to think I would make the same decision.”

I nod, biting my bottom lip. “Thank you,” I say finally. “For that, and for staying out of the battle.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” he says before the weight of those words fully settles over him. He laughs. “It’s strange. I don’t think I’ve been able to truly say that in a while, not since we were in the palace. Since then, everything I’ve done has been for you.”

“Blaise—” I start, but he cuts me off.

“No, it’s a good thing,” he says, looking at me. “This time, I acted for myself, because I know it was the best thing for Astrea. And that knowledge…it feels good.”

WE LEAVE AT DAWN THE next day and ride until the sun is high overhead and it’s time for lunch. Before I can get my rations and quiet my rumbling belly, Blaise pulls me aside.

“You haven’t practiced in a while,” he points out. “We should take advantage of the break. Art can grab you an extra ration to eat afterward.”

My stomach gives a loud protest to that, but I know he’s right. Blasts of fire are one thing, and it was enough back at the Water Mine, but controlling my gift is still difficult, and I know there will come a time when I will need to wield it as a dagger instead of a cannonball.

“Are you sure it’s wise?” I ask him. “Someone else can teach me—”

“I thought we’d established that wasn’t the case,” he points out with a wry smile. “And you were getting better with me, weren’t you?”

I can’t deny that. Artemisia and Heron tried, but the way they talked about their powers felt nothing like mine; it was like an archer trying to teach a swordsman.

“You aren’t supposed to be using your gifts,” I point out.

“I know,” he says quickly. “But I don’t need to use my gifts to help you control yours.”

My skepticism must be clear because he sighs. “I’m managing, Theo. It isn’t easy, but it’s getting better. I wouldn’t throw that progress away for the sake of showing off here and now. If you’d rather eat or rest, by all means, but I think you could use some more practice before we get to the Air Mine.”

I think back to what happened with Rigga at the Ovelgan estate. I was able to get through that without actually attacking her, but that won’t always be the case. And it’s only a matter of time now before I’ll have to face off against Cress.

“Fine,” I tell him, ignoring my grumbling belly.

He leads us away from my troops until we find a stretch of space far enough away that we won’t be seen. There are no trees to practice on this time, only flat, barren earth interrupted by a pile of rocks.

“You’ve got the distance,” Blaise says, crossing to the rocks. He reaches down and picks up a small stone the size of his palm. He tosses it into the air a few times, catching it with ease. “Precision, though, is off.”

He holds the stone up, opening his hand so that it’s resting on top of his palm. “Can you hit the stone?”

I stare at him, my mouth agape. “I’ll hit you,” I tell him.

He shrugs. “I’d rather you didn’t, but that’s up to you.”

“Put the rock down and I’ll try to hit it,” I say. “Same target size, less risk.”

“You need the risk,” he says, shaking his head. “If we had more time—months, years, even—we could start small. But we don’t have time. Do it. I believe in you.”

“You shouldn’t,” I say, choking out a laugh. “I’ve never tried anything like this before. I haven’t practiced or trained enough—”

“The fire is a part of you,” Blaise says. “All of the Guardian training, all of the lessons, it’s about finding that bond. You’ve found it, Theo. You wouldn’t be able to wield it like you do if you hadn’t. Now it’s about finding the limits of that connection.”

“Surely there are better ways,” I say.

“Safer ways, maybe,” he says. “But you work best under pressure.”

I sigh. “You’re going to get hurt,” I say again.

“It wouldn’t be the worst pain I’ve been in,” he says with a shrug. “And Heron isn’t too far. He’ll be able to heal it if need be, but I don’t think we’ll need him. Go on, stop stalling.”

“I’m not stalling; I’m trying to make you see reason,” I snap, but he gives me a level look and I shake my head, lifting my hand and summoning a flame. This one is small, just the size of my thumbnail.

Blaise is about ten feet from me. The target isn’t so small, all things considered, but if I miss…

Then don’t miss, I think.

I focus on the stone, letting everything around it fade away until Blaise and the clearing cease to exist altogether. And then I let it fly.

The flame hits the stone, but as soon as it touches, Blaise drops the rock with a cry, shaking his hand out.

“I’m sorry,” I shout. “I told you it was a bad idea.”

“No, you did it all right,” Blaise says, shaking his head. “You didn’t burn me, but it was still hot.” He picks up another small stone and takes a few steps backward so there is now closer to fifteen feet between us. “Go again.”

* * *

—

We continue on for about half an hour, until Blaise’s hands are bright red and I start to feel dizzy. I begin to understand what he meant, though, when he said the fire was a part of me. I feel it now even more than I did sending the balls of fire toward the Water Mine. With the smaller bits of magic, it feels more personal, more a part of me.

The last few times I do it, I can almost feel the hot stone against my fingertips in the instant the fire hits it.

Blaise seems satisfied as well, though his expression is closed off, more so than I’ve ever seen it. He passes me a canteen of water, and when I take a swig, he speaks.

“It’s strange,” he says slowly. “I thought that being around magic, seeing you wield it, would make me miss it.”

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, my stomach already tying itself into knots.

“And?” I ask, passing the canteen back to him. “Did it?”

“Yes,” he admits. “But not in the way I thought it would. I crave it, sometimes, especially here, in the woods. I can feel it calling to me, reaching out. I don’t know how to explain it.”

I bite my lip. “I think I understand. Before I went into the mine, before Cress gave me the poison even, I felt something similar. Anytime I was around Fire Gems, they called to me. And when I was angry, I felt it, too. Impossible to ignore, sometimes.”

I think about my burning hands, how I once charred my bedsheets after a nightmare. I wasn’t able to control myself, but I hope it’s not the same for Blaise.

He nods once, his brow furrowed. “But the strange thing is, I don’t actually want to use it again. Since the Water Mine, my mind has been clearer. It’s felt like my own again. This voice that used to live inside me, whispering about power and craving magic…it’s gotten quieter. I can hear my own thoughts again. I’ve missed that.”

“You seem better,” I tell him. It’s true—the circles beneath his eyes are still there, but they’re less pronounced. The color has returned to his skin. He’s still hot; I can tell that without touching him. It radiates from him so that even standing a few inches away, I feel it. “You seem more yourself.”

“I’m sorry, Theo,” he says, the words seeming to cost him.

I shake my head. “We’ve been over that already. You apologized for the Water Mine—”

“No, not that,” he says. “I’m sorry that I didn’t listen to you, even before that. You tried to tell me there was something wrong, but I wouldn’t hear it. That whispering in my mind I mentioned…it was terrible, but it also felt like I needed it. Like it was me. Like without its presence, without the feel of magic coursing through my veins, I wouldn’t really exist anymore.”

“You didn’t know who you were without your power,” I say, recalling a conversation we had about it when I first asked him to give it up in Sta’Crivero.