Orange smoke hung thick in the air. No, not smoke. It smelled sweet. Too sweet. And she could taste it on her tongue. It was like honey and it coated the inside of her mouth and her nose. This delightful sweetness consumed her senses. She wanted more.

No. Wait.

Caledonia spat on the ground. Bloody saliva landed at her feet and she spat again, but there was no escaping it. This wasn’t smoke, it was Silt, powdered and hanging in the air around her, flooding her lungs with every breath, sneaking into her body with every swallow. But why?

The factory. The answer hit her as soon as the question. Donnally! He’d done it. He’d taken her charges and destroyed the factory. Squinting through the haze, she confirmed her suspicions. The factory was demolished. Fire tore through the roof, sending plumes of muddy smoke into the air while all around its base, Silt created a dense ring.

Lir. Lir had been so close. Holding a dagger—

Caledonia spun. There was a heat at her wrists as if her bindings burned there, and her head was starting to float or grow or bloom like a flower. It was a nice feeling. An exciting feeling. Her pain was there but muffled, and as the ringing in her ears slowly receded, she felt sharper, stronger.

Something barreled into her side, knocking her off balance and driving her shoulder into the ground. There was a growl in her ear and then her head snapped back.

Blood spilled down her chin. She felt the warmth of it more than the pain, and for a second she was struck with wonder. Then Lir hit her again and she rolled backward, skidding up onto her feet.

She crouched low. Lir mirrored her position just a few feet away. All trace of his strange sorrow had been erased from his features. All that was left was pain. He was hurt, Caledonia realized. Not by her, but by Donnally.

Betrayal had dragged its steely fingers across Lir’s heart, what little of it there was. He was wounded and he was angry.

Through the sharpened lens of her Silt-soaked mind, Caledonia understood that this was not the same Lir who had asked her to choose him just a moment before. This was a Lir rejected by the one person he thought loved him. And now that Donnally’s allegiance had been stripped away, Lir would take out every drop of his brutal hurt on her.

“Ask me for mercy,” Lir said, voice a growl.

The words made Caledonia’s gut churn. Ask me for mercy. He had asked for her mercy the night they met on that beach. She’d given it and he’d taken everything from her. Now he wanted her to do the same. Not because he intended to give it. But because he planned to withhold it.