Rory sprinted after Zhang, just as Gwen spun around and drove her heel into a man’s knee. When he stumbled, she plunged her hand into what must have been his aura, because he let out a bloodcurdling scream, staggered to the side, and fell at Rory’s feet.

Gwen thrust something at him. “Here!”

The Tempest Ring glittered in her hand.

He stared at it, realization hitting. “You switched the rings,” he said, grabbing his ring back and sliding it straight onto his finger without hesitation. “You never gave Becker my ring—you gave him Ellis’s wedding ring, full of the paralysis magic of the Venom Dagger.”

In the chaos, her eyes met his. “I’m sorry for the deception,” she said. “And I had to lie about the lead; no magic gets through that. But I didn’t lie about the strength of your magic. Find Becker, and use that relic to get his damn blood magic out of Arthur.”

Rory didn’t need telling twice. He took off toward the house, dodging as a much bigger man came barreling toward him with a pipe.

But someone else crashed into Rory from the side, sending him flying. He hit the ground, skidding through dirt and gravel as the crunch of fist on bone rent the air.

Rory looked up and his gaze found Arthur.

He was fighting Ellis—and winning. Blood was gushing from Ellis’s nose and from a scrape on his face, and there was real fear in his expression. Because even if Arthur probably couldn’t see Ellis, the Puppeteer could, and he was pulling Arthur’s strings.

Arthur swung again, and Ellis dodged, but Arthur followed his first strike with a second, like a boxer in the ring. The second, harder swing connected with Ellis’s temple, and Ellis hit the ground.

“Arthur, no!” Rory scrambled back up, stumbling forward. It didn’t matter that he was someone else’s weapon; Arthur was never going to forgive himself for violence on someone who’d been his own soldier. “Ace, stop—”

Arthur whirled and Rory dodged the fist that came his way, getting clipped on the side of the head instead of his face.

Oh Jesus, the look in Arthur’s eyes—

But like the marionette he was, Arthur swung again.

Rory dove for the ground, skinning his hands and bruising his knees as he rolled away. He hit the side of one of the convertibles with a grunt of pain, and caught sight of his own hands in the gravel.

The Tempest Ring gleamed up at him.

As Rory stared at it, the breeze kicked up around him, blowing his hair off his forehead, making the tiny rocks around his hands dance.

He heard footsteps approaching in the gravel. “Had enough?” Becker taunted, from somewhere behind him.

Rory closed his eyes. “Have you?”

And this time, when Rory reached for his magic, he fully opened the floodgates.