Proudly she rose. At a gesture from Caonabo, the Taino soldiers parted to let her leave. I yanked off the noose over my neck and only then did I think to look for James Drake.

He had vanished. Caonabo was wiping his hands with a cloth, surrounded by concerned attendants.

Camjiata took hold of my elbow. “Don’t be a fool, Cat. Drake has guessed the cold mage is still alive, for it is obvious whenever you speak of him. Your plan on Hallows’ Night to kill me went badly wrong. Still, I hold no ill will against you. Our lives—yours and mine—are bound by destiny. We are meant to be allies in the struggle for liberation.”

I shook off his grip. “I’m not putting that noose back on.”

Wardens carried Rory up the steps, through the entryway, and along a corridor. The chamber we entered was furnished with tables and benches. The men settled Rory atop one of the tables and set up guard at both sets of doors. I asked them to bring a basin, water, and cloth, as well as a behique who was a healer.

One door let onto the main corridor. A set of glass-paned doors opened onto a large central courtyard that was completely boxed in by the wings of the Council Hall complex. In the courtyard a monument depicted a buffalo and lion, and a covered cistern provided water. But the most striking object in the courtyard was a majestic ceiba tree, with a wide canopy and ridge-like roots grown out from the trunk.

I paced, one hand on the ghost-sword the Taino believed held my mother’s spirit and the other cupped around the locket I wore that contained a portrait of Daniel Hassi Barahal, the man who had called himself my father even though he had not sired me. The locket also held strands of hair from my husband. In the warmth of the locket I felt the pulse of the thread that bound the heart of Andevai Diarisso Haranwy to my own. Somewhere in the spirit world, Vai was alive.

A local healer arrived, an older woman with a fire mage’s crackling touch. After helping me wash Rory she coaxed a sweet-smelling syrup down his throat to help him sleep. After she left I sat beside him for the longest time, combing out his hair with my fingers because I had no other way to relieve the churn of my emotions. I’d been a fool to provoke Drake, but it had felt so good! Yet he had wanted me to lose my temper, so I had played into his hands. The fire I’d felt was my anger, not his magic. My rashness had hurt Rory, not me.