I shrieked and leaped back. The heavy iron portcullis barely missed my nose, striking the stone floor with a dreadful clang. Its thick bars framed the pale, shocked faces of the children, now trapped behind it. Marcello stood beyond them, hand falling back from his rapier hilt, eyes wide.

Chapter Thirty

Zaira swore. “We were so close. So damned close.”

I grabbed at the metal bars, trying to heave the gate up. More blue light flared along the portcullis’s iron frame. It was locked in place, by an artificer far more competent than the one who’d added the slapdash circle on the far door.

My breath came too quickly, and I couldn’t pretend it was only with agitation. No. Everything was going to the Nine Hells again.

One of the children punched Padric’s shoulder. “Stupid! Look what you did!”

I couldn’t bring myself to contradict him, even when Padric burst into tears.

Marcello grimaced, in a comfortable sort of way that denied how bad our situation had become. “Now what?”

Zaira grabbed my arm. “Can you do something like you did for that circle on the door?”

I shook my head. This was a disaster. Marcello and the children were trapped, and Ignazio must be on his way, unless he’d sent hirelings ahead. Everyone looked at me expectantly, hopefully, but all I had was a satchel of artifice supplies and a complete lack of magical talent to defeat a well-crafted device.

I took a breath. “I don’t know. Let me think.”

The mirrors detected intruders, but their runes said nothing about dropping the trap. The portcullis itself bore no runes, nor artifice wire or beads. Something had to dictate the terms of the spell.

I hooked a hand over a rough iron bar for support and glanced upward. The top of the portcullis disappeared into the hidden slot through which it had dropped. The arm-wide gap was too full of shadows to see what was up there.

“There has to be another room above us, with a way to unlock the magical seal and reset the trap. With a mundane winch, too, for that matter.” I had to pause, gathering breath. “The portcullis would drop any time one of the lamps went out, so they must need to reset it often.”

“I saw another door on the side of the building,” Zaira said. “Let’s go.”

I eased my weight back onto my own legs, which threatened to fold. For a moment, I couldn’t let go of the portcullis. The children crowded against the bars, reaching through, tugging at my clothes with their tiny hands. I wanted to reassure them, but I had to focus on finding my balance again.

Marcello moved through them up to the bars, worry furrowing his brow.

“Amalia? Are you all right?”

“I’m sorry.” My voice came out weak and shaky. “I know we don’t have time for this. I’ll go.”