“Get the Amaz out of here,” Clive insisted. He stepped toward the shield as if it were no match for him, even though they both knew full well that the second he moved through its surface, he would burst into runic flames, the fire igniting his very core.

“And go where?” Freyja harshly threw back.

Clive’s jaw tightened, his glare intensifying, as if he were holding back a million expletives. “East,” he bit out. “You’re an island in the middle of a strengthening monster. Get your people East!”

Freyja advanced toward the dome, now only a handspan from him. “How?” she challenged, teeth gritted. “How do we go East?”

“You’ve Noi portal sorcerers amongst you—”

“And if we went East, how would we live there? Amongst the men? Our religion and every aspect of our culture forbids mixing with men.”

Clive’s expression softened with an edge of longing. “And yet, here you are. With me.”

Freyja’s heart twisted as she held Clive’s impassioned stare and remembered the last time they were together, over a month ago. Sneaking off into the woods to the southwest. Falling into each other’s arms the second they were far enough away from Amazakaraan and taking each other with an intensity that stole Freyja’s breath and ignited that familiar, piercing yearning to be with Clive always. To fight the Mages with him. To never let him go.

“I’ve chosen my people, you know that,” she told him, her tone rough with frustration. Over the impossible choice she’d been forced to make. “Clive,” she said, her voice splintering around his name, “the Noi have denied us entry. As have the Ishkart.”

“Then the Noi and the Ishkart can go to hell,” Clive growled, drawing closer. Almost touching the dome-shield. “They’ve closed the door to my people, as well. So, the hell with them all. Go East anyway. Freyja, the Gardnerians are coming, with the Alfsigr on their heels. And they will break through this dome.”

“They can’t. Or they’d be here already.”

“They took the Lupines down in a single night. They will come, Freyja.”

Conflict whipped through her. “Queen Alkaia wants a homeland without men. Even if the Noi open their gates to us, we’re not interested in being a part of Noilaan. We are Free People.”

“You’re not free,” Clive shot back. “You’re prisoners of your rigidity. Hold on to it and you’ll be massacred. The Mages will kill the children, Freyja. All of you. They view both your people and mine as soulless heathens. They will kill you all.”