Page 162 of A Magic So Deadly

She tossed a cloak my way, which Raphael fastened around me, raising the hood. Right—still daylight. That would help block the burning.

“How do we get out?” I asked.

“Through here.” She dragged me to the window. I couldn’t help but look back at Raphael.

“Be safe,” I pleaded.Don’t forget too much of me.

“Soon,” he vowed.

Thea tugged at me more impatiently. In her other hand was a deck, which she thumbed through expectantly. But I recognized the cards—they were the ones I’d pilfered from Ferro and left in the drawer of the bedside table. How had she even known they were there? Her magic?

She reached the transport card and slipped it between two fingers, not letting go of my wrist.

“Hold tight,” she ordered.

“Thea, wait! We don’t know where that card is keyed to—”

She activated the card, and any further words were lost as the wind of the transport card swirled around us.

Frantic, I looked back at Raphael, but the magic had already engulfed us, pulling us out the window and with that, from their minds.

My stomach lurched. I hadn’t taken a transport card since I was a child, and never over hundreds of miles. I couldn’t see beneath the swirl. Magic like this operated almost between dimensions, pulling us into the darkness. The ground beneath disappeared, nothing around us but the swirl of magic. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t find words, couldn’t think.

When the magic finally spat us out, it was on lush, patterned carpet.

I fell on my knees, Thea a few feet away, but all I could do was stare at the carpet pattern. My throat burned with ash.

No, no, no…

“You’ve brought the girl.” A hint of surprise colored the imperious voice. I could barely hear it over the ringing in my ears. My fingers shook in front of me as I tried to find some way to center myself. There was no scent of cedar. Any breath I took to balance myself came out too shallow, too fast.

Thea had recovered from our graceless landing. Now, she knelt with one knee raised, her forearm braced against it. A position of fealty I’d never seen her make toward Raphael.

“Yes, my king.”

No.Not Thea. Not myfriend.

My friend who had brought me tea and biscuits and hugged me and put cosmetics on my face and taught me how to do it on my own. My friend I’d sparred with, laughed with, cried with.

My friend who I’d confided in about my magic.

My friend who had agreed neither of us should tell Raphael.

How could she do this? Nothing made sense. How had she known the card would lead here? I curled my fingers into the carpet, trying to quiet the pounding in my head.This was planned. Thea wasn’t surprised. Her voice didn’t wobble.

She was exactly where she intended to be.

“I’m impressed. I confess, after this winter, I had my doubts. You will be rewarded for your loyalty.” His voice was level, any surprise gone, and in its place, lethal boredom.

I finally lifted my gaze. First to the copper throne, polished so brightly it was nearly blinding. Then to the man who reigned from it. He couldn’t be called old. Old made one think of feeble, and King Vaughn the Storm-blooded was nothing less than a force of nature. He’d allowed himself only the slightest bit of gray around his trimmed beard to show age, disguise magic no doubt hiding anything as undignified as wrinkles.

He looked down at me with contempt, lip curled back with distaste.

I swallowed sharply, a million questions and accusations on my tongue.

But what came out wasn’t a question or even a scream. It was, perhaps, the most damning accusation of all.

“Hello, Father.”