I step back to my original door—the coals somehow seem hotter, red and vicious. A punishment for trying the other doors? Probably. I can barely breathe from the magic rolling around the room with us. It’s in control here—not us.

I grasp at it, calling it to me. It bucks away from me like a wild horse, but I fight and coax it all at once, wrapping it around my feet, asking for a shield until my feet burn with their own fire, and I almost cry out from it. Instead, I bite my tongue and run.

The coals roll under my feet like riverbed stones.

What if the other door doesn’t open?

I push the thought away when a flicker of heat breaks through my magic. Doubt will kill me.

I reach the door and pull, stepping out onto cool wood flooring.

Turning, I smile back at Lucy and Willow gaping at me.

My smile drops when I glance at all the blood behind them on the floor. Too much.

I decide not to think about it.

“Let’s go.” I wave my hand at them, coaxing.

Willow keeps shaking her head while Lucy cries.

“You have to.”

Resolve finally settles on Willow’s face, and she picks up her skirt and runs. I have to jump away as she barrels past and skids to a stop, then hops back and forth on her red feet.

“Are you okay?”

She bites her lip and nods. Her feet look sunburned. “Are you?”

“Little hot.” I don’t know why I lie. My feet are cool against the wood. I’m almost giddy from the rush of commanding so much magic. I fight down a smile that doesn’t feel like mine, like the magic’s pulling those strings now.

Lucy’s scream jerks our attention back to the door as she stumbles through, going down on her knees just as she passes the doorframe so that we both have to grab her arms and drag her feet out of the coals.

So many blisters bubble on her skin, I have to look away and suck in a breath to drag down the bile working its way up my throat. She didn’t use the magic at all.

Whoever brought her here to this competition had to know that she doesn’t stand a chance.

Maybe that’s why Roman tried to get me not to come. He thought I’d be the girl burning from lack of control.

He was wrong.

I wiggle my perfectly cold toes.

And then I hate myself again when I look back at Lucy, tears running down her face, no longer whimpering.

I turn away and clear my throat. “Let’s go.”

The hallway is long and curving, and I lead the way as Willow shoulders some of Lucy’s weight behind me.

We turn one of the many corners and stop.