I shake my head. She makes it sound simple, but I don’t want to go with her. I feel heavy with dread, and not just because we’re about to be surrounded. The Destiny is right behind us. If I can just figure out a clever way to distract her, to get inside, we might still be able to outrun them.

I realize, suddenly, that it’s not as dark as it was a moment ago. I can see the outlines of things, dark gray on black. But the sun only just set; it can’t be rising again. I turn, eyes brushing past everyone and the trees surrounding us, catching on a far-off pinprick of light. The familiarity of the magic washes over me with recognition.

Aris.

If we’re going to be clever, we have to do it soon.

“I mean, really, Raze, did you think I wouldn’t catch up?” She turns back to him conversationally. “Even if Aris hadn’t caught you and your accomplices in the act of breaking in, you left this behind at the scene of the crime.”

She reaches into a pocket and pulls out something that shines a dull, corroded silvery color. His ring, abandoned on the plush carpet as he and Isolde wrestled each other for the compass in the vault. As soon as it hits the moonlight, his eyes grow even wider, and his mouth tightens into a sharp slash.

Leira examines it, bored. “If you’d just come to me with your ideas, maybe we could have worked together.”

“I’m never going to work with you,” he snaps. His eyes meet mine over her shoulder, then flick back to her quickly, trying to tell me something. I shake my head. I don’t understand. Without looking at me again, Raze rubs a nervous hand over his eyebrows. Then he wraps his arms around himself, like he’s cold.

The memory of the campfire flaring up in response to my own shivering comes flooding back with absolute clarity.

“Well, while we wait for Aris to catch up, why don’t you at least let me take a look at that fascinating enchantment?” Leira looks at me with bright eyes, reaching a hand out as if she expects me to walk over and tamely give her mine.

I take one faltering step forward, jaw clenched tight. This is almost certainly a terrible idea. The crisp mountain wind raises chills up my arms as I slowly extend my left hand to Leira.

I inhale sharply, and all the magic I’ve been forcing into a tight, churning ball in my stomach flares into the night air—not into a direct attack that she could deflect but into the cooling ashes of the campfire. The fire roars back to life in shades of bright white and gold, and Leira, who was standing the closest to it, recoils with a shriek. She stumbles back with her arm held protectively over her face, and even my eyes are dazzled.

“Run!” Olani yells, before the fire’s even receded.