Chapter 14

I fly backward, hitting the water with a crash. The shockwave took out my clever little walking-on-water spell and my personal shield. That never happens: I literally learned to hold that shield in my sleep.

So I am more than a little stunned when I hit the water, am plunged under the water, hit the ground beneath the water which knocks the wind out of me, gasp, inhale water, start choking—

There goes my graceful fucking victory lap.

Anyway, it takes me a minute to first get my base shield back in place, because I'm at least that well trained, and then to get back on my feet and stop hacking and be able to see again.

Understandable, maybe, but in a fight to the death, that amount of time could have ended me.

Even if my spellwork is still on point, I'm clearly out of practice with the physical side of duels—my whole body feels wrung out from the choking, from smacking against the ground at speed, from taking the echoes of the grand magus' hits while we fought. The only reason I'm not dead is because I took out Evram's wand first.

That, and Nariel standing in front of me?

That sobers me fast as my hacking finally quiets down enough for me to hear Nariel saying, "You are not the only one who can infuse power into a wand. Merely the one with an entire cadre of angels behind you to back up your work."

What the hell, he's taking credit for breaking Evram's wand?

I freeze as my brain catches up.

He thinks if the angels know I can break an angel weapon unassisted that they'll kill me.

Fuck, I didn't think of that. But what the hell else was I supposed to do?

While Nariel hides me from Koshiel's focus, I take quick stock of the situation. All the High Earth guards are still keeping back, many still getting to their feet. Destien is hauling Evram out of the water—the old man's arm is bleeding, probably slammed back into the shrine—but Destien will have him conscious again in no time.

A quick glance reveals Brook is much farther back than I left her, no longer anchored with magical binds to this world. She's nearly invisible as she's sunk all but her head below the waterline to be as unobtrusive as possible, but she lifts her arms to give me a quick double thumbs up.

Destien didn't abandon her injured, then, and got her into as safe of a position as he could before returning to assist his superior officer. I'm honestly not sure what to make of that.

Then Koshiel says, "I sensed no angelic magic on her wand," and my attention whips back. She's calling the bluff.

Nariel purrs, "And why should you have?"

That makes me frown. It's a double-edged dig: that Nariel is no longer an angel and can do this, and that he can work magic that Koshiel can't sense. This is only going to make him look like more of a threat to Koshiel, and it's a bluff he won't be able to back up if she tests it.

I move out from behind Nariel to stand at his side, my wand ready and my gaze clear.

The angels chose to ally with High Earth. I chose to ally with Nariel. And I let Koshiel see us presented as a united front, and one that can stand against their alliance.

The angel looks between us—and then focuses on me, and this time I think she is finally seeing me.

"Wizard Master, was it?" she asks as if idly.

The courtesy of my title at last, but my heart pounds.

I don't think this is a good sign after all.

Nariel shifts almost imperceptibly, but I know him now, and I can practically feel it. He doesn't like this either.

He looks just the same, but somehow I get the impression that he is ragged too. I'm not sure he can afford to keep fighting the angel and survive, and if I had that much trouble with an angelic weapon , what could I do in my current state against angelic power in the hands of someone who actually knows how to use it?

I ask calmly, for all the world as if I have not just defeated a grand magus of High Earth on my own and shattered angelic power to do it and come out standing, as if an exiled demon has not fought at my side and not crumpled under the might of angels. "Shall we discuss the situation we find ourselves in then, Scepter of Bright Earth?"

Koshiel considers me. "You would restore Low Earth as a power. You cannot do this without the backing of Bright Earth."

I narrow my eyes. "The attempt would certainly not be my preference, no," I say carefully. "I am well aware that Bright Earth is formidable, to say the very least, but I will do what I must to keep our magic and autonomy."

"And what different choices would you make, were Bright Earth not to oppose you?" Koshiel asks.

Behind him, I hear Evram choke. Destien muffles him somehow.

She's trying to get me to abandon Nariel. Everyone always is.

God, it's a wonder Nariel trusted me, as much as this keeps happening to him.

I try to catch his gaze, but his expression has gone unreadable—no, stony. Does he expect me to throw him over now? Maybe.

But I think he may know something I don't and doesn't like it, but I don't know what that something is.

"My choices," I say carefully, "are dependent on specifics, Scepter Koshiel. Would you do me the kindness of speaking plainly?"

"Were this world to have a leader capable of making wise decisions, Bright Earth's concerns over Low Earth's ability to handle its own magic would be ameliorated," Koshiel says. "We would not see any reason for High Earth's custodial relationship, provided that remained true, and would be glad to amend the treaty."

What?

The grand magus is now on his feet and protesting, but I barely hear him through my own shock.

Destien's face is ashen, but he looks more angry than surprised.

I don't understand. If the angels abandon High Earth, they won't have the funnel of magic from our world, will they?

But High Earth also won't have that magic.

And someone who can work angel power unleashed a devastating plague in High Earth very recently.

My blood runs cold. This angel does see me.

And she wants to use me to distract the mages.

As long as I live, High Earth will focus on trying to restore the flow of magic from Low Earth to them. While they try, they won't focus on whatever the angels are doing. And if they succeed, the angels can claim there is no custodian in Low Earth capable of handling the power, and they'll restore the previous status quo.

And in return for staying out of my business but throwing me to the wolves—

"Am I to understand," I say slowly, "that a leader you considered wise would not ally herself with the Prince of Makora?"

Koshiel eyes gleam. "I see I was not wrong in my assessment of your judgment."

I can practically feel my eyes spark.

Of course, she only judged me worthy—of being used—once she saw that I was powerful enough to be a dangerous asset to Nariel.

Because a wizard from Low Earth can't be a power in her own right, of course. She can only be used, be it by a demon or by an angel.

And of course the angel thinks humans are so weak, so mercenary that I would jump at this fucking slime of a deal—

"You may even keep your wand, as a sign of our goodwill," Koshiel continues. "And to ensure you have the space to make good choices, since, as you say, choices are dependent upon specifics, are they not? This fallen angel will return to Dark Earth and remain there.

"And if he breaks his confinement—" Koshiel smiles, and I shudder. "Bright Earth will treat that as an act of war of—what did you call your paltry domain, ‘Makora'?—and all of Dark Earth will suffer the consequences."

I suck in a breath.

That's a bridge too far. It's a hundred bridges too far.

Not even for the security it would buy me, and all the wizards of Low Earth, to not have to worry about angelic interference on top of the mages.

I have an obligation to protect this world now, yes.

I don't get to sacrifice another world for my own security.

"And if," I ask in a low, dangerous voice, "the leader of Low Earth objected to having a part in threatening genocide?"

"Don't."

It's Nariel, his voice sharp, harsh in a way I've never heard it, and I meet his gaze.

It's like we have a whole conversation silently.

He reminds me of Costa Rica, when I let my emotions rule me and he pulled me back from the brink because too many people would pay the price.

And I look back at him and let him see in my face that I am mad and ready to fight.

"Don't," he says to me again more quietly.

He's tired.

So am I.

If we fight right now, we may lose, but I cannot accept this. I can't.

I'm stupid after all.

But Nariel, that fucking martyr, gets to make his own choices, and without breaking eye contact with me he raises his voice and says, "I will go and will not break the wards you set, so long as Bright Earth upholds their end of the agreement."

Leaving himself a loophole. Nariel has lasted as long as he has by surviving long enough to take another chance.

"Then we are agreed," Koshiel purrs, and I do not miss the fact that she did not actually care what I said.

She'll regret that.

I will make them all regret this so hard, because they won't be able to stop me.

Blinking back tears—of grief, of rage—I pull the clip out of my hair and press it into Nariel's hand. "Something to remember me by," I whisper, and hope that no one pays any attention to the magic I press into it.

A piece of me, that I hope he doesn't hate.

A promise, that I can't state aloud.

Nariel's eyes burn. "This was a gift."

Does he mean the clip, or his choice? I can't tell, and I can't ask. "I know," I whisper, and hope against hope he understands, and that I'll have the chance to make him understand.

But for now, that's all the time we have.

I keep my peace as I watch very closely the magic I sense Koshiel performing, the spidery threads of it that swirl around Nariel and grasp him tight, that draw him down to bind him to another world.

I'm no expert on angel magic yet, but I will be.

As Nariel passes through the water as if sinking into a world below, our eye contact never breaks.

"I will see you again," I promise him fiercely.

And the last I see is Nariel's unbearably sad smile before he passes out of this world into his imprisonment.

Leaving me hollow.

Despite all the odds, I won.

I have all the magic I ever wanted. I have the freedom to use it.

And it isn't enough.