“How about Iako?” Endred’s fire flared as someone from beyond the glowing red-orange wall blasted it with airmagic, but the barrier held.
“That i***t,” scoffed Cezon. “Never met a food he didn’t like, even if it’s prison bread. He won’t be any use.”
“The princess is doing a fair job in his place. Where is he, anyway?”
“Dunno. Out there distracting them, I expect.”
“He’ll get himself killed without his magic.”
Seba couldn’t see Cezon—she was preoccupied, watching energy distort the air around her fingertips like a heat mirage as her magicthreads became water—but in her mind’s eye she imagined him giving Endred a negligent shrug as if to say, Who cares?
Now space itself was distorting. The world narrowed around Seba. Everything caved in toward her shaking hands. She heard Endred’s voic
