“So you see,” Tisaanah said, “we couldn’t let her keep it.”

Sammerin took another drink.

“A fourth trial. Afourth trial, Max. Tonight.”

His tone said what his words didn’t:You are fucked.

That was an understandable reaction.

The fourth trial was the last step in the Arch Commandant selection process, and the simplest… as well as the most ridiculously archaic. Just one fight, Wielder against Wielder. It would take place in the Scar — the birthplace of magic, a chasm not far from the base of the Towers. When magic had returned to the world half a millennium ago, that chasm was the breaking point. To this day, it remained one of the most unique magical settings in the world.

That was the whole romanticized idea: put two candidates in the birthplace of magic itself for their final battle, to test their connection, their commitment, to the forces they Wielded.

“The whole concept is ridiculous,” I grumbled. “As if whoever wins a pit fight in a glowing magical ravine is better suited to lead one of the most powerful organizations in the world.”

Sammerin stared flatly back at me, silent.

“I can win,” I said.

“Max, sheknowsyou.”

I knew exactly all that was implied by that sentence.

Nura’s magic preyed on the fears of her opponent. And she knew exactly where the gaps between my ribs were, knew exactly which mental knives to turn.

“I know her, too,” I said.

“Right, and that’s exactly what she’s going to use against you. With stakes this high, she’ll fight hard. Nothing will stop her.”

I knew he was right.

No matter what Nura did, there was always a small part of me that hoped she could be better than she was. Yes, she had saved me, many times over, even when it cost her dearly to do it. But I had seen the way she looked at me in that meeting — with a hurt sharp enough to shred whatever tattered history had hung between us.

Sharp enough, maybe, to sever whatever still kept her from killing me.

“I know,” I said. “And I won’t let her take it that far.”

“I wouldskinher,” Tisaanah muttered, and I quirked an eyebrow at her.

“That’s charmingly vicious. Comforting to know that if she survives me, she certainly won’t survive you.”

“This isn’t a game.” There was an uncharacteristically harsh edge to Sammerin’s voice. “If you lose, if she’s truly that desperate, this affects more than you. Nura is not the kind of person who abides by half-measures. She could purge everyone who has anything to do with you. Did you consider that?”

I went silent. Sammerin stared back at me, his jaw tight. A pang of guilt rang out in my chest.

“Yes,” I said, quietly. “Yes, I did.”

Tisaanah and I had made very direct moves against Nura, and we were well aware of the consequences of that. But if we were to lose, there was a possibility that Nura would not stop with us. We had allies. Sammerin. Serel. The Threllian refugees.

I had seen the way Nura waged war. Scorched earth.

It would be putting it lightly to say that I’d had many objections, when Tisaanah first raised the possibility of my candidacy. Butthiswas the one that still lingered. The one that still made me think,Maybe I’m not doing the right thing.

“I’d make whatever deal I had to, to ensure you aren’t affected,” I said. “You were her friend too. I could convince her.”

Sammerin let out a low scoff.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Then he muttered, as if to himself, “Ten years, I spent building my practice.”