With so many soldiers and slaves below, there would only be a few people left at the cape. No one would understand what was happening. Taking advantage of the confusion, she and Liana would seize Dion from his captors before anyone could react.

Feeling the howling wind around her, brushing cold fingers against her skin, Chloe left the sheltered area to stand on the steep hillside. She raised her staff. The six magi still held the sea at bay, silver spirals glowing fiercely as the towering waves surged above them.

She had to act quickly if she wanted to obliterate Palemon’s soldiers and sorcerers, and sweep away the artifacts from the ancient city. She fed the flame, feeling the fire rise up until it surged inside her body, threatening to engulf her if she didn’t set it free.

‘Chloe!’ Liana’s scream was piercing, cutting through her concentration.

Chloe whirled to see a dragon with a gray-robed magus on its back descending from above. As the dragon’s flight followed the slope of the mountain, heading directly for them, the creature parted its jaws and the sorcerer narrowed his dark eyes. He was short, with close-cropped hair, two thirds of his face disfigured by a savage burn mark. His right hand held a staff crowned with an iron claw; his left hand clutched the chains of red metal connected to the dragon’s collar.

Chloe recognized him in an instant. He was Tarik, the sorcerer who’d taken Liana at the guesthouse.

Liana paled. ‘The dragon. It can sense me.’ She thought for a moment and came to a decision. ‘I’ll lead them away.’

‘But—’

Liana was already moving, her gaze fixed on her approaching enemy as mist enveloped her. The gray smoke shimmered and then as a silver-scaled dragon she burst out of the cloud, flying directly at her opponent. She ducked underneath the coal-colored dragon and bit hard under its belly. She then flew directly away from the peak as the sorcerer turned his mount and chased after her.

Chloe looked back at the slaves carrying the arch.

She lifted her staff again, her brow furrowed with concentration, and prepared to summon her power.

It was time to break the spell.

Dion was biding his time, waiting for the right moment to strike. He glanced sidelong at Palemon, who was watching the procession of ancient artifacts from the lost city below.

Dion’s arms and legs had been freed, but he was still collared. He remained slumped on the ground beside Palemon’s makeshift throne, presenting himself as weak and pitiful, never a source of threat. There were no soldiers in the area, but Palemon carried a dagger at his side, and Dion knew that the tall king from across the sea was the far superior warrior. He needed to find the right moment to seize a weapon and then take his revenge. The opportunity would come.