“They say I’m a mage,” Lena said quietly, blinking, trying to keep her voice conversational. But I’m not so sure, she nearly added. Magic rolled off the Radical—overwhelming, heady, like a strong perfume.

“Ha! That’s what they tell you, is it? No, you’re something else entirely,” he whispered now. “The gods cannot truly bind you. Their little tricks cannot tame you.” And suddenly, realization flashed in his rainbow-black eyes. “Ha! I know it! You are—”

He cut off abruptly. Lena felt the bindings fall from her body and she crumpled to the floor. “What? I am what?”

She didn’t understand at first—but then she saw that the Radical had grown deathly pale. He tumbled to the ground like a felled tree, his head hitting the marble floor with a loud crack, and Emris stood behind him, over his body. In his hands, suspended between his palms, he held a glittering ball of dark, iridescent darkness—just like the Radical’s eyes—which lit up Emris’s face in curious flickers of multicolored light. Lena gazed down at the corpse. Lord Aster’s eyes were ordinary again, ordinary and dull and staring at the ceiling as if in shock.

Holding the ball carefully in his hands, Emris carried it to the center of the room and placed it on the floor. At a silent signal, the huntsmen surrounded it, raised their hands, and spoke as one.

“By the power of Faul, we banish thee, Chaos. By the power of Faul, we bind thee to the void. By the power of Faul, we charge thee never to return.”

They repeated the incantation three times, and Lena watched as the ball of energy appeared to struggle, fizzing and popping on the marble floor. At one point during the last incantation, it rose up by a foot, sending sparks flying into the air, a wild light reflecting in the chandelier overhead.

But as the huntsmen spoke, an invisible power resonated through the room, emanating from their hands. The air around them rippled, and waves of gray-white energy pulsed toward the ball. And when they had finished speaking, it was simply swallowed up in a pocket of air. Everything was quiet.

Footsteps rushed toward her. “What the hell did you think you were doing?” Emris said, and, without waiting for a reply, pulled her into a tight, punishing hug. Lena allowed herself to sink into the embrace, warmth rushing to her face.

“I didn’t mean to. Besides, I saved the King, didn’t I?” Lena managed, feeling close to tears of relief, and Emris squeezed her tighter.

“For gods’ sakes, just … don’t do that again,” he said quietly, murmuring the words into her hair. “I need to settle a few things before we leave. Wait here for me, all right?”