Longwark glanced up, for the barest second. His blue rune tattoos were stark in the lamplight of the cave. Then he dropped his attention back down to his puzzle ball.

Gray wrenched his jaw open. ‘You what?’

Longwark continued to play with the puzzle ball. Boiling heat was tearing through the shock within Gray. He stalked over and snatched the puzzle ball out of Longwark’s hands.

Gray was fast enough that Longwark didn’t pull it out of the way in time, Longwark barely had time to move, except to twitch his eyebrows as he glanced up.

Gray pegged the puzzle ball out of the cave. Hard.

Weeks ago, Gray would never have dared.

Longwark was notoriously volatile. Gray was all about control. Longwark was big enough to swat away a full grown man with one hand. Gray was small and skinny.

Gray didn’t damn well care.

‘What - are - we - doing - here?’ said Gray.

And Longwark was still damn sitting there, comfortable, relaxed. He’d been here, this whole time, eating freaking meat pies and potatoes and piles of strawberries. He was acting like they weren’t in some damp, dark cave up a mountain in the south, like they weren’t a million miles from home and everything they knew, like Gray hadn’t been through hell, like Alistair had never died, Rowan, too.

Like him kicking Alistair out of the advanced alchemy final hadn’t tipped Alistair over the edge into running away.

Like he’d not brought the soldiers to Krydon.

Like he’d not started this whole damn nightmare.

Like he felt nothing.

No remorse. No guilt. No shame.

A switch flipped inside Gray.

A pitch black fury like Gray had never felt was flying through him.

‘What am I doing here?’ The words were screaming through Gray. His throat was tearing.

Anger was shifting through Longwark, Gray could see it, he could see the fast building of Longwark’s famous temper, and Gray was angry enough to be glad to see it, because he was damn ready, he’d fight this man.

He’d kill him.

‘Why did you steal their stupid jar? Why did you bring it to Krydon? WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST GIVE IT TO THE SOLDIERS?’

And Longwark didn’t even answer; he sat in his armchair, his temper visibly rising, staring at Gray like Gray was being unreasonable.

Gray launched himself at Longwark.

Longwark struck out to throw Gray back, but Gray dodged, his boots skidding on the damp cave floor.

Gray landed on Longwark with enough force to knock him out of the armchair and they rolled onto the ground. The chair tipped on top of them. They scuffled.

Raw anger gave Gray strength, speed. His internal walls were smashed around his magic, and it was lighting up his skin, the cave, the side of the mountain.

’STOP,’ Longwark shouted.

Longwark was on top, but the chair had knocked him off balance, and Gray slithered free, Longwark’s wand in his hand.

The wand zapped with static.

It prickled like water filled with electric eels.

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Gray didn’t care. He didn’t care if the wand contained lightning. He was angry enough not to care about any pain.

He pointed it at Longwark.

Right at Longwark’s chest.

Gray was flat on his back, both hands on the wand, and hot, uncontrolled power bursting through him.

Gray could barely see for the light. It was unbearable. Raw.

Longwark was on all fours. He reached out a huge hand. ’Stop.’ He was angry, his face was deep red.

‘I don’t think I will, thanks,’ said Gray. His hands shook.

His whole life, Gray had refused to so much as touch a wand. This one was solid, rough. Like Longwark had walked up to the closest tree and snapped off a twig.

‘You don’t know how to use that, do you?’ said Longwark.

‘Can’t be too hard,’ said Gray.

‘It will be,’ said Longwark, ‘while you’re having a flare.’

‘Then why are you scared?’

Longwark’s ice grey eyes slid to the side. His mouth was twisted in contempt. ‘You don’t go picking up another’s wand without permission. It’s uncomfortable, yes?’

Gray drew in a shuddering breath.

‘By all means,’ said Longwark, ‘have a go.’

Gray’s hands shook harder.

‘I’ll even tell you the words to say,’ said Longwark.

‘You want to try your reverse psychology somewhere else, Longwark. I was trained in this battle strategy bullshit at the same school as you.’

‘You were trained in axe fighting at the same school as me, too, but you’re nowhere near the same level I was at your age.’

Longwark started to move.

‘No,’ snarled Gray.

Longwark slowed, but didn’t stop.

‘Back up,’ said Gray.

Longwark was inching closer. Gray’s flare was dipping. The magic was fading, it was water quickly swirling back down a drain.

‘Back the hell up,’ said Gray. ‘I want you in the middle of the room, hands up. I mean it.’

‘You don’t know what you’re doing.’

‘Really?’ said Gray. ‘I’m holding your cyngyrd. You can’t do wandless magic. You have no weapons.’

Longwark stopped. His wild hair obscured his vision for a second as a strong, cold wind whipped in through the cave mouth. His hands clawed into the cave floor. ‘Oh,’ said Longwark delicately. ‘They’ve taught you a word.’

‘I want answers,’ said Gray.

‘I only answer my king,’ said Longwark.

‘You will answer to me.’

‘Put down my wand,’ said Longwark.

Gray tightened his grip on the wand and swiftly stood up.

Pressed the end of the wand to the centre of Longwark’s forehead.

Longwark’s intense gaze narrowed. ‘Ask your question, then.’

He said it like they were in class, like they were in the alchemy lab at school, and not inside a dark cave filled with mismatched furniture and he was being held at wand tip.

‘What the hell was that in the street,’ Gray demanded, ‘what just happened?’

’That,’ said Longwark, his upper lip curled, ‘is unimportant. Ask a better question.’

‘Humour me.’

Heat shot through Gray, and he felt it aim straight for the wand, like lightning going for the metal spire on a tower.

Longwark flinched. His face darkened.

‘You think,’ said Longwark, ‘you’re any scarier than everything else I’ve faced in my life?’

‘I think,’ said Gray, ‘you haven’t come this far to be killed by a fourteen-year-old in a cave.’ Gray pressed the wand against him harder. ‘I also think, if I were in your position, answering an unimportant question is worth less than my life. But, that’s just me.’

Longwark glared up at Gray.

‘That was a sorcerer called Rikkie,’ muttered Longwark through clenched teeth. ‘He likes to blow up carriages. He likes to blow up anything. He likes the mayhem.’

Gray adjusted his grip on the wand. Longwark eyed him, his nostrils flared.

‘I - ah - was aware,’ said Longwark, ‘you were riding back to the guild in the royal carriage, and I knew Rikkie was waiting. I was too late to intervene. But not too late to haul you out of danger.’

‘Why?’

‘Why what?’

‘Why are you hauling me out of danger? You don’t give a shit. You don’t care.’

Longwark was completely motionless.

‘You used an illusion of me to steal from Othoa,’ said Gray, ‘you didn’t care about the danger then, and that was a huge part of the reason why I - why they thought I was your apprentice. A sorcerer. That put me in huge danger.’

‘The Othoans are morons,’ muttered Longwark. ’They have almost no mage population, they know almost nothing about magic, they don’t know how to spot an illusion when they see one. To this day they don’t know it was an illusion they were chasing.’

Gray dug the wand in hard. ‘Not what I asked.’

Longwark locked his intense ice-grey eyes onto Gray.

‘I do what I have to, to succeed in my orders,’ said Longwark. ’The Othoans are aware of Conor. Your face is similar enough to Conor’s that I knew they’d throw every Othoan guard into chasing you through that palace. It worked perfectly. Sometimes I have to make difficult choices. It's called being an adult.’

‘Orders?’ said Gray.

‘Everything would’ve been fine, there would’ve been no real danger to you if the Blodrinka Dry hadn’t been released, if Slate hadn’t come-‘

‘Who’s giving you orders, Longwark?’

Gray’s mind was reeling, it was bombarded with a million thoughts, questions, sharp as knives.

What the damn was a Blodrika Dry?

And Longwark was skirting questions. There was information he did not want to share. But, one at a time, Gray told himself. And sorcerers get in your mind and mess with it, Killian had once said. Gray had to be careful.

He breathed in slow. Focused.

‘Who’s giving you orders?’ Gray repeated.

‘They really told you nothing, Griffin?’

Longwark’s gaze fell to the exposed X on Gray’s wrist.

It was the smallest movement.

Fast.

But, Gray caught it.

‘You tell me, then,’ said Gray.