I summon whatever fragment of strength I find to pull away, but the box’s power lies on me like a blanket of steel. Breathing is a fight. I dig. I can’t die here. I can’t, not like this. My parents, they… My throat tightens. What will happen to the rest of them? Everything I did for East Row, would the Chancellor retaliate, go wreak havoc there? I can’t.

“You’ve fought bigger battles before,” a voice whispers to me, and I go cold all over, the hair on my neck standing. “… And you won.”

Something shifts. My cuffs surge with intense heat, the coldness completely gone. My magic… it’s answering, overpowering… winning. I cling to that feeling and pull at any and everything I feel until the spell breaks. A shudder rolls through me, then a crack, like a mountain of pressure breaking through a dam.

I stumble backward as far away as I can from the magic-sucking box. Someone helps me up and I pant for my breath. Bri is beside me, her gadget suctioning a vortex of matter from the box. She taps the light on top and yanks. The swirl of matter shudders and a final gush of magic slips into Bri’s device. She closes a door on it with a triumphant smile.

“Rue, are you okay?” she asks.

I steady myself on my feet and my fingers instinctively reach for the edge of my cuff that was peeling away. It lies flat, flush with my skin, and I sigh in relief. “I’m okay, I think. Something, someone… whispered to me. I—”

“Huh?”

“I don’t know. But that thing wanted my magic!”

“It wanted more than your magic,” Zora says. “But Bri was quick to recognize how it worked and her Ingostro thing was able to overpower it.” They share a look. “Good work, Bri.” Zora helps her get the gadget into her bag, and I glare at the spot I was just pinned to, trying to make sense of what just happened. I thought the fire arrows were trying to kill me back there… maybe they wanted to injure me, maim me, so I couldn’t move. The box in the alleyway we deactivated before we saw what it could really do. But it had a homing device to notify them. Maybe—I gasp. The realization slaps.

“These traps aren’t trying to kill me.” The hole in the concrete so only one person could go through. The fact that no one is out here trying to challenge me one-on-one. I pull the hostage up on his feet. The fear of death is in his eyes.

“That’s not his plan, is it?”

His lip trembles.

“Answer me! The Chancellor couldn’t pry my magic out of me. So he’s trying to provoke me to use it, so he can steal it? That’s his plan?”

The hostage studies his feet, then nods.