Volanna and her sons stand next to the priestess. My uncles are resolute, but Volanna looks almost sad by the turn of events. As though it greatly pains her.

But not enough to stop this, apparently.

The priestess holds a wicked dagger in one hand, the blade curved, perfect for eviscerating and watching things die slowly.

No.

We’re still running. Still shoving. Trying to reach the top.

The priestess gesticulates with the blade. Punctuating her remarks. Each time it inches toward Temra I think I’ll lose my mind.

We’re not going to make it to the front in time.

“Stop!” I shout at the top of my lungs.

The priestess and my relatives look up, trying to find the voice in the crowd.

“I’m the one with magic. You have the wrong sister. I’m the one who needs to be sacrificed!”

Kellyn turns to me. “What are you doing? Shut up. Are you trying to make this harder?”

“Let her through!” a voice rings out. And the bodies shove aside, leaving a path up to the stand.

“Never mind,” Kellyn corrects. “Carry on, bladesmith.”

There’s no way we can fight everyone in this room. I had hoped it would be only Volanna and her sons, but of course the priestess would want to make a spectacle of this. We’ve no hope of fighting a hundred or more city folk.

“I make magical weapons!” I shout. “Look, here they are!” I raise the shortsword higher, which is black as night when I loose the blade. “Take me and let her go.”

“We can’t be sure she’s telling the truth,” the priestess says as the three of us finally reach the front. “We should take them both, just to be safe. We can’t risk the blight of magic infecting this city once more.”

“The missive we received was that one of the sisters was carrying a magicked weapon,” Volanna says. “Perhaps if we just confiscated the weapon and let the poor girls go—”

“Out of the question,” the priestess says.

Temra is straining from her bonds, shouting underneath the gag, her words unintelligible.

“It’s going to be okay,” I tell her, stepping forward.

“Oh, like hells,” Kellyn says from behind me. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You, wicked priestess, are going to hand over the feisty one, and we’re going to leave the city, never to be seen again. No one’s committing murder tonight. The law forbids this. Now let her go.”

The priestess clutches her dagger more firmly, her knuckles turning white. “No. The Goddesses demand that this filth be purged from our midst. We will not sin against their wishes.”

“The law has legalized magic. You are sinning against the realm,” Petrik volleys back.

“The realm has become corrupt. We must take a stand. It must stop.”

Kellyn sighs and draws his longsword. “It’s not murder if you’re defending your life, and I’ll be glad to rid this town of you.” Kellyn points the considerable length of his sword toward the priestess.