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“Leaving,” I said.

His eyes widened. “What?”

“We’re past the checkpoint. We can leave right now without being searched.”

“Then I assume you have a map of Ansora,” he hissed. “Because we don’t know where we are, how to leave this compound, or whether the guards will hunt us down if we run.”

Though he was right, I couldn’t bring myself to leave the compass here, nor did I want to risk the Ansorans confiscating it at the checkpoint. And given Valeria’s obvious suspicion, I only had one option left.

“Fine.” I went to move past him. “You can stay.”

Zeke blocked my path. “And say what? That my cousin spontaneously combusted while we were waiting for the medic?” Fear leaked into his voice, cracking it at the edges. “You don’t understand. I can’t get into trouble here. I can’t let them send me back.”

“Then get out of my way.” My tremors had returned, the scalpel juddering.

“You’re not well. Just sit down, and—”

My specter jolted off my skin. Zeke cried out at the blow, and the voices outside went abruptly silent. I lurched forward, slashing through the back of the tent. Sultry air blew through the fabric, and the scalpel slipped out of my sweaty palm.

There were no guards on this side.

I was about to dart out when Zeke growled, “You’re not going anywhere.” His hand closed around my wounded arm, and—

Agony.

My specter erupted with my guttural cry.

The power rippled outward, tearing Zeke’s hand off me, blasting through the tent and cracking its wooden poles. The structure plunged in on us, debris whooshing through the air.

Then I was on my back, crushed under Zeke’s weight, golden fabric slanting above. Dried dullroot flurried around us, landing in Zeke’s hair like dark snowflakes. Spitting curses, he shook my shoulders, sending fresh pain down my arm.

The scalpel shone in my periphery, and instinct drove me to grip the handle, to get him to stop hurting me—

Someone kicked the scalpel from my hand, and I yelped as the boot whacked my fingers.

Then Zeke was yanked away and shoved onto his back beside me. We panted as three swords appeared above our noses. And a guard said, his voice like thunder, “Both of you, on your feet.”

3

We were escorted between the tents like criminals, surrounded by half a dozen guards.

The compass seemed to burn a hole in my saddlebag, less conspicuous than the knife I’d used to stab the king of Daradon, yet twice as dangerous. I tried to convince myself that they might not recognize it—might not even open it long enough to understand its power. But if they did, I would have to fight to protect it.

And pitted against every Wielder on this compound, I knew I couldn’t win.

One of the guards strode ahead into a large golden tent, and an even more pressing fear bore down on me.

“Name your price,” I murmured to Zeke, who was still seething because I’d exposed and ruined his dullroot. But he knew what I was asking. Name your price for not revealing my identity.

Because if I was taken into custody as Lady Alissa, the news would definitely reach Erik. And regardless of whether I left this compound with the compass . . . he would know where to find me.

“You couldn’t afford me,” Zeke said, sneering. But behind his anger, I saw the same desperation currently quickening my own anxious heartbeat.

“I have gold,” I whispered. “Enough to replenish your stash.”

We drew closer to the tent, my panic rising with each step.

At last, Zeke mumbled, “Tell them it was yours.”