Alarmed, I dart away from the insane prince and away from the dead Kadranian lords. The camp scrambles like a destroyed anthill, some rushing toward the roaring Morineause, some toward the fire, some into the darkness. I stride through the chaos, striking out at anything that dares get in my way. I've paid my due; I'm not dying out here before I collect my reward. The prince may have turned on me, but I will receive what's mine, no matter what that takes. The foolish Kadranians fall around me, but most ignore the little witch slipping toward the castle.

I hit my first pocket of Morineause soldiers and angle to get behind the confrontation. Then ice arcs from the sky, rocketing through one of Aster's soldiers like a javelin. He crumples, and across the gap, behind the Kadranians, stands a woman weaving ice out of the air.

Amarris Veradeaux.

The Kadranians press forward, and the Morineause fall beneath their blades and the wizard's magic.

"Why don't we make it a fair fight?" the voices coo.

A wicked smile splits my lips. I enter the fray, cutting through distracted Kadranians to create a path to Veradeaux. Her gaze catches on my trail of destruction. An ice shard shearing through the air twists and hurtles toward me. I roll across the ground, popping up just a few feet in front of her. Panic flares in her eyes. Her hands shoot to the side, and a sheet of ice flares up in front of me. I kick through the bottom, and it shatters as she scrambles back. Her hands thread designs in the air, and I charge with my silverglass.

Icy pain shoots up the back of my leg, and I tumble to the ground, warm blood running over my calf. As ice crystals rain down at me, I roll to the side. More thump behind me, and I roll faster, pushing up to my feet.

My knee buckles, but I keep my footing. I glance back. A wicked shard forms close behind, a dagger ready to kill. As I spin back, Veradeaux smirks and draws her hands toward herself.

The voices scream in my head, but I hold steady until—

The air whistles. I duck as the ice shard shoots over my head, straight toward Veradeaux. She waves her hands, but the course of the shard is set. It hurtles toward her, and she throws herself out of the way. I surge forward, teeth gritted.

"Bye-bye." My silverglass plunges into her side and twists. She screams, but as I raise my blade to finish her, something else catches my eye.

The color drains from my face. In the crowd, a cloaked figure weaves toward me. But this man isn't built like Aster.

I turn to run. It can't be him.

My leg betrays me, and I go sprawling. I scramble up, throwing a glance over my shoulder. Alaar raises his arms, and my heart goes cold with surety.

I didn't kill all the shamans.

A crack rings out of my pocket, and searing pain rolls through me. An image of a red bead infects my vision, and the picture shatters. I broke my deal with Aster.

The image disappears, revealing Alaar's hands twisting in the air. Excruciating cold slides through my body, and I gasp. No, no, no. He can't do this to me again. My gaze erupts with disorienting lights, and impossible shadows splay across my vision. Through them, Alaar strides closer.

Fear claws into my throat. You were supposed to be dead!

I scream and charge him. He draws his own dagger and easily blocks my weakened blow. I growl. I'm not coming this far, not going to be to blame for all those soldiers, not going to have worked this hard, and him not die!

I trip as I come at him again, and he sidesteps, smiling grimly. "Fool."

"He's going to kill you," the voices taunt, "just like he said he would."

My bloody silverglass swipes for his wrist, and he dodges, snatching my arm. I stomp his foot, head spinning. He snarls, but before I can slide out of his grip, it tightens again, and he twists my arm up. Pain flares in my elbow, and involuntarily, I spin to keep him from breaking it.

My foot kicks up behind me, colliding with his shin, and he drops me. I stumble away and whirl to face him.

"How aren't you dead?" Anger drips from my lips like venom.

His fingers twist, and the images in my vision warp and shudder. I stumble, off-balance. The world tilts, and he marches on impossible ground toward me. His hilt comes at my head, and I try to dodge, stumbling over the wrong-angle field. The dagger slams into my skull, somehow closer than it looks, and I fall. Stars burst in my eyes, and I claw the dead grass and snow, scrambling back.

Calmly, he walks toward me. The world still shifts, off-balance, and I can't tell if it's from his shaa or the blow. My good leg clumsily sweeps out, but he just steps over it. Panic claws my throat.

Terrified and disoriented, I raise my silverglass shard. He sidesteps and kicks me. I go sprawling, nearly landing on my own blade. World shaky and hateful, I look up at him. He picks up the silverglass and turns to me.

A slow smile crevasses his face.