She reached exultantly toward the low ceiling. Blue flames shivered down her arms; balefire kindled in her eyes. The brutes recoiled, and Lady Savony flinched. I would have drawn back from her myself if I could have.

Ignazio reached out an uncertain hand, his face bathed in blue light. “Zaira …?”

Lady Savony’s eyes narrowed.

“Finish the Falconer,” she ordered the swordsman, who had paused with his blade poised above me.

He nodded and gathered his shoulders to strike.

Zaira extended her hand toward him as if blowing him a kiss. An arc of fire poured across the air between them, splashing across his chest and running fiery fingers up his neck into his hair. He screamed and fell writhing to the floor. The stench of burning flesh was terrible.

“Kill her!” Lady Savony cried. “Quick, before she burns us all!” And she leaped at Zaira with her dagger.

A wave of blue flame engulfed her before she could even get close enough for Zaira’s magical corset stays to protect her. Lady Savony collapsed in an unmoving, burning heap; the balefire had gulped down her life like a starving wolf.

“That’s for the children, you heartless monster.” The cold, distant note in Zaira’s voice sparked alarm in my mind.

One of the remaining scoundrels drew a flintlock and fired at her. With a flare and shimmer, the ball ricocheted and struck him in the leg. He dropped to one knee, howling.

The door flew open. I barely glimpsed Ignazio’s embroidered sleeve flashing as he slammed the door shut again behind him. Anger flared in me like Zaira’s fire. How dare he run away? But I was still too weak to rise and go after him.

Zaira had enough vengeance in her for both of us. Pale wicked flames flowed from her in waves, embracing the two remaining guards as they scrambled for the door. Their screams tore my ears until I had to cover them. Then the balefire consumed the door itself and poured out into the hallway like an incoming tide, chasing after Ignazio.

But it also spread out from Zaira’s feet, licking along the floor toward me. And it chewed its hungry way out from the burning doorframe, spreading flickering blue tongues along the stony walls.

“Zaira.” I levered myself up on my hands; the room wavered, and a cramp dropped me back to the floor. “Zaira,” I gasped, “can you hear me?”

She made no response. Fire ran up and down her hair. She took a graceful, gliding step toward the door, like a sleepwalking ballet dancer, and then another.

Grace of Mercy. She’d lost herself to the balefire.

“Zaira! You have to stop!”

She made no sign of recognition. The blue flames swept closer to me across the stone floor.

“Revincio,” I whispered.

The room plunged into near darkness as the fires winked out. Zaira swayed and collapsed with them.