Pain shatters across my cheek, snapping my neck to the side and ripping a gasp from my lungs. “I gave you a chance,” Alarra says, her voice a hard, clear blue. “Remember that. What comes next is your own doing.”

She spins me around and presses the bolt to my throat again, nodding to the soldiers beside Thare and Redge. “Make them talk,” she says.

The first soldier punches Thare in the ribs, making him double over. Redge is met with a similar attack when he tries to lunge forward, his arms straining against the rope at his wrists. The soldiers fall on them, fists and boots swinging, never letting up to ask a question or hear a response.

“Stop,” I beg, grasping at Alarra’s wrist. “Please, stop!”

“Tell me what I want to know,” Alarra hisses.

I summon the power of a bonfire and press it into my fingertips. “Fi—”

Alarra’s hand clamps over my mouth. “Don’t ruin the fun,” she says. “Watch. It’ll be over soon.”

Neither ranger cries out, but I hear their breaths driven from their lungs with every new blow. Tears sting my eyes—useless, helpless tears that do nothing to help myself or my friends. Ieldran, Phoenix, Pathkeeper—save us, please, please—

“Stop,” Alarra says. The soldiers step away, revealing bloody and bruised skin through the rangers’ torn clothes. The stitches in Thare’s shoulder have torn free, leaving a scarlet stain on his shoulder to match the wound in his leg. Redge’s nose looks broken. But their mouths are closed, and when they look up at me, I read the same command in both of them.

Silence at all costs.

“Do you see?” Alarra says. “This is what happens to my enemies. Would you rather die with them than rule with me?”

Phoenix, save us. Ieldran, give us strength. Pathkeeper, guide us home.

The heel of her boot slams into the back of my leg, and I crumple. I do my best to curl in on myself without the use of my arms, but it doesn’t help. She kicks again, and again and again and again. Pain throbs through my stomach, my chest, my face, my back. I try to breathe, but there’s no air. Blood pools in my mouth, down my eyes—no, those are tears. The sound of my cries echoes in my ears, reverberating around my skull. Ieldran, save me. Phoenix, Ieldran, Pathkeeper...

“Tell me where to find the prince,” Alarra hisses.

A punch this time. My lip splits.

“Tell me where to find the prince.”

Pain curls along the length of my spine, settling in between my bones. I try to arch away, but it follows. It pierces through each sobbing breath—“Tell me where to find the prince.”—Please, make it stop. Please, Ieldran, make it stop, make it stop...

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It does. I press my face into the earth, sucking in dirt and frost with each sobbing breath. Alarra’s boots filled my vision.

“You know how to make it stop,” she whispers. She seizes my collar, pulling up until I get my knees under me. I must have said the words out loud, though I don’t remember voicing them.

I open my mouth. If it will make the pain stop, I will—I’ll tell her everything.

“Don’t.”

Thare. Through tears and blood, I lock eyes with the injured ranger. His face looks like mine feels, but his eyes are hard and unyielding. Beside him, Redge gives me the same solid look.

Silence at all costs.

Edelweiss for courage.

“Go on,” Alarra says.

A thread of clarity burns through the pain. Alarra will kill us for defying her, no matter what I say. Redge and Thare have held fast this long—I can’t let their suffering be for nothing.

I open my mouth. Redge shouts. Alarra grins.

“Silence.”

Needles sting my lips, my tongue, the roof of my mouth, melting and scalding down my throat to settle in my chest like a smoldering coal. The pain steals my breath, sharper and hotter than Alarra’s blows, but my scream never sounds.

Alarra stares at me. “What did you do?”

I can’t answer. She releases her hold on my shirt and I collapse as though my bones have been burned away with my voice. She brings back her foot to kick me again, but I don’t feel it connect. I don’t feel anything except the fire in my chest and the rawness in my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for it to end.

Pathkeeper, prepare my way and welcome me into your Golden Halls. I’m ready.

Alarra’s hand scrabbles for my throat, and despite my willingness to enter Ieldran’s Halls, I tense against the feeling of her nails on my skin. “You will tell me what you know,” she snarls. “You may think you’re clever, but I am the greatest Wordweaver in Awnia. Your power is no match for mine. Speak!”

The reflection of her Wordweaving bathes her eyes in cool blue light, lightning stabbing through ice. The frost flashes across my skin, but only cools the surface—the coal burns as steadily as ever underneath. No matter how powerful she thinks she is, she’ll never be able to reach it. This is my promise to Thare and Redge—to Six—and she won’t take it away from me.

As if realizing the same thing, Alarra cuts off the flow of power. The chill withdraws from my skin and returns to her eyes. It’s over, and she knows it.

I’ve won.

“Take them,” Alarra hisses. “When Malgren returns, we will continue on to Andred. The prisoners will remain bound and under guard at all times. No one is to speak to them. No one is to go near them.”

I hear her words as if from a distance. Something inside me tries to feel alarmed at the idea of marching to Andred, but it’s buried under too many layers of pain and exhaustion. My resistance has accomplished nothing. Thare, Redge, and I will die in Andred or on the journey there.

But Six is safe.

Alarra watches as her men throw Redge, Thare, and I together, testing our bonds and nodding when we are secure. “This is what comes of loyalty to the Ryvenlocks,” she says, her eyes on mine. Then she looks over her soldiers and shouts, “For the Grand General!”

“For the Grand General!” the soldiers repeat. Alarra tilts up her chin and stares at me, but I haven’t the strength to do anything but meet her gaze. It’s enough; she turns and sweeps into her tent, leaving us to her guards.

“You didn’t really...?” Redge whispers, twisting to look at me. He trails off, and I let the silence be my answer. “You can undo it, can’t you? Reverse it?”

I shake my head. If Alarra couldn’t do it, no one else will be able to. There is no going back from this decision.

I am no longer a Wordweaver.