She was so close to the end—so close to surviving the Ordeal. But the power in the amulet was fading, and Kiva didn’t know how long it would last. Already she could feel her throat swelling, blistering on the inside. The elemental magic might have been protecting her flesh, but the room was now filled with toxic smoke, with very little oxygen remaining. Kiva didn’t know how much more her body could handle without a fresh supply of air. Would suffocation take her life, even if the fire itself failed? Would her organs begin to shut down, one after the other? Or would shock send her into cardiac arrest? Her heart had been leaping out of her chest since before she’d been sealed in this room; it surely couldn’t last much longer.

Nine minutes.

Kiva moaned as sweat slicked over her body and then evaporated in seconds. She could feel Mot’s waxy remedy dissolving from her skin, the protection it afforded melting right off her. Gasping and wheezing, she had no fight left in her to do anything but curl up in the fetal position against the stone door, wrapping her arms around her knees and closing her eyes. This was it. She couldn’t last any longer, she couldn’t survive until the end, she couldn’t—

The roaring stopped.

The heat began to fade.

The door opened, and Kiva fell back, still curled around herself.

She couldn’t open her eyes, couldn’t move, every part of her aching.

But air—fresh, pure air called to her, and she sucked in a breath, before coughing, coughing, coughing.

She felt as if she were dying, her lungs burning, her throat screaming.

“You’re all right, you’re alive, just breathe,” came Naari’s voice, as if from far away.

“Na—”

“Don’t try to speak,” the guard said, and Kiva felt cloth being draped over her, the familiar scent of leather and oranges that she’d come to recognize as belonging to Naari now surrounding her, covering her nakedness.

“What’s this?” came another voice—Warden Rooke.

Kiva felt a weight lifted from around her neck. She tried to protest, tried to open her eyes and reclaim the amulet, but she was still coughing too violently.

“Unbelievable,” growled Rooke. “I told those sodding royals not to interfere.” He spat a curse. “Typical. I should have expected it from the Vallentis brats.”

“You asked them not to attend today’s Trial,” Naari said to the Warden. “Nothing else.”

“Nothing else, my ass. If it had been anyone else . . .” Rooke released a disgruntled sound, then sighed and said, “What’s done is done. Get her up. She needs to walk out of here on her own two feet.”

“She’s in no condition to—”

“Get. Her. Up,” Rooke repeated, his tone brooking no argument.