“Don’t worry,” Isolde gasps. “Go—” She chokes on her words.

A screech rings out over the cliffside. I look up. A hawk circles above us, swooping over the ocean as he descends. The sun glints copper off his feathers.

Raze!

I expect him to transform back, to conjure up some kind of magical attack.

Instead, he dives for the nearest person in blue, vicious claws extended.

Isolde is still struggling on the ground. I can’t let Aris get to her again, not like this. My fists clench, power flowing through me again.

Before my magic can provide me with an attack, Aris sweeps a hand out toward me. Her teeth grit with the effort it takes as massive roots emerge from the earth in a shower of dirt and pebbles and wrap around my middle, pinning my arms in place. Trapping me.

A scream of frustration tears from my throat. The branches squeeze my tender skin, pressing the fabric of my dress into the burns until I can feel every individual fiber against my skin, alight with pain.

I kick and thrash, but it’s about as effective as the beating of a moth’s wings against glass. Each movement scrapes my skin, more painful than the last. There’s nothing I can do but watch.

Aris laughs hoarsely, pushing sweaty curls back from her face with a sniffle. “Come on, Olani. You really thought no one would find out you were sneaking around? Or did you think no one would care?” She’s cocky, but I notice that she’s still gasping to catch her breath. “Throwing in your lot with Raze? I didn’t think you were that stupid.”

Olani’s staff smacks into her opponent, and for a moment, it’s just her calmly facing Aris. She lets her staff fall a little, leaning on it casually. “Right,” she says, as if daring an attack. “Much more embarrassing than working thanklessly for Leira Wildfall indefinitely, waiting for a promotion that’s never going to come.”

Is she talking about Aris or herself? Maybe both.

“It’s not like that!” Aris replies, hands balling at her sides. Her magic is exhausted, but she’s still trying to prepare for another attack.

Olani doesn’t flinch. “She was only ever going to see me as a fighter. I’m tired of being used like that. Aren’t you?”

Before Aris can respond, the person Olani just smacked aside rallies back to their feet, drawing a dagger. Olani’s stance changes instantly to the defensive, and she’s back to the battle.

She’s good at this—but she wants more. Whatever it is, it’s something she thinks she’ll find by helping us get to the Mortal’s Keep.

Isolde struggles back to her feet, panting and sweating and possibly angrier than I’ve ever seen her. Instantly, she’s sprinting back into the fight, knives already in her hands, despite the looseness of her grip on her injured side.

“Isolde—”

“Wait there!”

It doesn’t seem like I have much choice in that. I kick my legs uselessly, straining against my bonds. It does absolutely nothing against the might of the huge, gnarled roots. “Isolde!”