Screams sound from the boats around the lake as shadowy figures climb from the water and sink their teeth into the vulnerable magicians. Lucius set up this execution in a way that made it impossible to interfere with, and now they’re sitting ducks.

Numerius takes in the murky battle with a calm expression before his eyes settle on me. He’s in front of me before I can register his movement. Fingers close around my neck. My feet fly off the ground, and I’m dangling, kicking as my hands dig into his wrists, acting like a girl without magic. Each breath struggles through my restricted throat, and I worry for a second that he’s squeezed the magic right out of me, but it’s there, buzzing and faint. He’s dampening it like throwing a wet blanket over a fire.

It feels as if the fog of this place has woven into my mind, and I can’t think of what I need my magic to do. I can’t think of anything at all.

“Do you want to watch this time, Lucius, as I take away another thing that belongs to you?” Numerius asks.

My eyes sting, but I find Lucius. He’s backing away. He’s almost to the edge of the vines. I just tried to decapitate him, but it still stings that he’d leave me to die like this. Numerius pulls me closer to him, and all I can focus on are the fangs dipping below his open mouth.

And then I’m falling. Stones cut into me when I hit the ground, and I can’t tell if the warm blood I feel is mine or from the streams that flow here. My vision swims as someone pulls me away. My magic comes rushing back, and I heave as I push myself to my knees. Roman’s beside me. All his knives and stakes are suspended in the air around Numerius.

The weapons turn slowly in the air toward us.

They fly forward but halt halfway. I stand in front of them, staring them down, but they start to quiver. Sweat drips down my temples. Roman stands next to me, the veins in his neck straining. He’s helping. I can’t take Numerius alone, and the way the blades and stakes wobble as they inch toward us, I know the second I move, the second I let my focus slip, they’ll tear us both to pieces.

“Move,” I say to Roman through clenched teeth.

I feel it the moment Roman stops using his magic. Mine flares as it struggles to keep the knives at bay, but Roman’s not moving out of the line of fire. He steps right in front of me, looking down at me with sad resolve.

My focus snaps. His eyes widen, and his hands clench my biceps as he jerks into me, but he doesn’t fall. He looks as surprised as I am.