The words slowly sank in. Panic rose in my chest, my heart thundering in my ears. The tether between Res and me roared to life, and he pulled for my attention.

“I’m fine, Thia. Don’t—” Kiva’s words dissolved into a hiss. Razel had dug the moonblade’s grip spike into Kiva’s skin below the collarbone.

“What is it they call children like you in Korovi?” the queen asked sweetly. “Okorn? Perhaps I’ll carve it here.”

“Stop.” My voice was barely more than a whisper, and I hated myself for it. Hated myself for being so afraid, for letting her win, for waiting long enough for her to send a bead of blood trailing down Kiva’s chest. I swallowed hard, gathering my voice and strength. “I’ll give you the letter.”

“I know you will.” Razel lifted the blade to Kiva’s neck. “Now get the key.”

“Thia—”

Kiva fell silent as I caught her gaze. I held it a moment longer, then faced the hearth and stepped toward it.

The key sat at the base of the hearth. It hadn’t been in the flames long enough to glow, but I’d have to reach through the fire to touch it. My mind drifted, remembering the acrid smell of burning skin and singed hair, the sharp, white-hot pain like thousands of needles digging into my skin.

The flames swirled and snapped, as if daring me to try and get past them. My nails dug into my palms, sweat building on my skin. I can do this. The fire crackled, making me break out into a cold sweat. Res’s call along the line was distant.

Calm down. You have to do this. The key is iron; it won’t be that hot yet. One of Caylus’s experiments had taught me that. Some metals heated faster than others. Iron fell somewhere in the middle. The longer you wait, the hotter it gets.

But no amount of science could change what else I knew: the fire was too hot. If I reached in, I’d never use my hand again.

A low hiss broke my concentration, and I whirled around. Razel had drawn a sharp circle in Kiva’s skin, and blood ran in little rivulets from the wound. Kiva gritted her teeth and caught my gaze. In it, I found the strength to face the fire again.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I crouched and snatched the key out of the flames with my scarred hand, the fire so hot, it felt cold. The feeling barely had time to register before I’d pulled my arm free, the key clutched in my palm. Then my mind caught up to my body. I screamed.