The ground shook beneath my feet and Ragan stumbled. “Lozhi!” he called. The beast slunk out from the behind the corpse of a war construct, his head low to the ground. Before I could do anything about my momentary advantage, Ragan gritted his teeth and shoved another wall of water at me. He hit me from upslope, and I struggled not to slide farther down the hill. To the left of us, the grass and bushes disappeared over the edge of a precipice. I hazarded a quick glance and found the drop stomach-clenching. I tried to gather the rain around me and found the thrum diminished, my limbs aching, my head pounding. Only the presence of Thrana kept me from collapsing. How could she still have energy?

“Take strength from me,” she murmured in my ear.

Ragan grinned, knowing I was nearly spent.

“And what do you plan to do after this is done?” I said. I couldn’t help the bitterness in my voice. “There’s still the construct army and the Shardless Few.”

He only pulled a knife from his belt. “That’s for me to worry about. You? You’ll be dead.”

All I had left were my wits and an engraving tool. Take strength from me. My breath caught. And a few shattered pieces of Thrana’s horn inside my sash pocket. A suspicion grew in my mind, formed into a thought. Surely she couldn’t mean…?

“Yes,” she said, as though she knew what I was thinking. “Do it.”

Ragan advanced, knife up, his gaze on Thrana’s bared teeth, his hand lifted to gather another wave.

I pulled a shard from my sash pocket and carved it. The bone gave way easily beneath my tool, as though this was what it was meant for. We moved as one. Thrana snapped at Ragan. He turned his knife toward her, distracted. And I, quick and small, darted beneath his guard. I slammed the shard into the flesh of his side, beneath the ribs.

It wasn’t like stabbing him, not quite. I had the odd sensation of his skin giving way, and then he was falling back, his mouth wide. The wave he’d gathered splashed uselessly to the ground. He clawed at his side, looking for the bone, trying to dislodge it. But it was gone, disappeared inside him. “What did you do?”

I opened my mouth, tried to form some smug retort, but had nothing. I wasn’t sure myself what I’d done. Thrana breathed heavily beside me, blood soaking through her fur. Her feet, though, were firmly planted, the muscles in her shoulder tense.

Ragan’s brows lowered. He struck out at me with his knife. I flinched back.

He dropped the blade halfway through his swing.