Page 92 of The Prince's Sacrifice

The tears spilled over, and Nawa pulled her into her arms and then kissed her hard on the lips.

“We both know how much he loves”—she choked and corrected herself—“lovedthe baby.”

Torex would have done anything for Cala.

Pama sucked in a breath and managed to choke out, “We need to get the baby to her father. I promised Prince Torex.”

It was the right thing to do for Cala, and Pama owed it to the Prince. Nawa gave a curt nod and led them on. When they finally arrived at the heavily guarded door, Nawa demanded, “Is the High King with the Queen?”

The guards exchanged glances, and then one of them nodded. Apparently, they knew better than to get on Nawa’s bad side.

“We need to see him.”

“He is not to be disturbed,” one of the women pointed out. “We can’t let anyone in there right now.”

Nawa’s tone brooked no argument. “Tell him it’s Pamuna with Nawila. He will see us.”

The guards eyed one another, and then one of them went to the door while the rest stayed alert. Pama supposed she couldn’t blame them, under the circumstances.

A moment later, they were ushered inside.

Varex

Var felt like he’d tossed and turned for most of the night, but apparently, he’d managed to fall asleep for at least a moment, because he was suddenly snapped out of uneasy dreams. Jerking upright, disoriented, it took him a moment to realize that a guard had entered the room. Ferna was clutching at him.

“Your Majesty! There is a fire in the kitchen!” The guard sounded like they were trying not to panic.

Cursing, Var hurried out of the bed, and Ferna rose with him. He turned and gave her a swift kiss. “Let me go see if there’s anything I can do, Sweetheart. Stay here.”

She frowned, looking worried. “Are you sure?”

He kissed her again. “Absolutely. I’ll be much more effective if I’m not worried about your safety.”

She sat back down on the bed, her gaze fixed on his. “All right. If you’re sure.”

Var hurried out of the room and followed the guards. Soon, he was close enough to smell the smoke, then he could hear the crackling, and finally, the fire was in sight. If this was a kitchen fire that had gotten out of control, someone deserved to be dismissed for letting it get so far. The room was practically engulfed!

He pushed the thought aside. He’d investigate how this had happened later. The staff with buckets were doing their best, but the fire was too large to be doused easily.

Var drew a deep breath and then flung up a shield. It couldn’t be used to smother, because it always allowed air through. Var and Tor had experimented with this underwater when they wereteens until their mother had caught them at it and told them in no uncertain terms that they would not be let out of their rooms until they were one hundred and twelve if they ever tried such a stunt again. But by then, they knew from real-life experience that you could breathe underwater while you were shielded—for hours.

So he couldn’t choke the fire, but he could prevent it from spreading further. He could contain it, and then it could be put out. Fire wasn’texactlyan object the same way that something solid was, but it wasn’t like air, either. He and Tor had experimented until they’d been able to keep fire in (or out, depending on what they were trying to do).

It had been years since Var had tried to use this particular skill, but from what he remembered, the hard part was moving the shield and forcing the fire to move with it. Var let his magic well up and out into the shield, trying not to think about the fact that his magic felt subtly off—as it had since Var had bound his brother’s magic. Var needed to deal with that, but he could only do one thing at a time.

He pushed back against the flames, slowly shrinking the shield and letting the edges of whatever the fire had been burning slip out of the shield. It was no easy task. If Var lost concentration, the whole shield would fall. The trick was to let the object you were releasing from the shield just sort of… slide out. Getting the speed and effort right meant the shield didn’t treat the object like somethingpiercingthe shield, which would make the shield fall.

He also had to move the shield slowly because he was treating the fire like an object, and so it was behaving like one. If he shrank the shield too fast, he ran the risk of the fire bursting forth. If he removed enough of its fuel, it would grow small enough that it would go out, or it could be put out by conventional means.

Var directed the guards to wet down the areas that he was freeing from flame to ensure that there were no embers that could spark back into flame.

Bit by bit, he corralled the fire and removed its fuel… and thought about how he and Tor had come across a wildfire when they were seventeen. (They’d been visiting Lotar and had sneaked out to the forest.) They hadn’t known to move slowly, and when they’d tried to shrink the shield, it had buckled under the force and exploded, sending the fire raging further. They’d both wound up singed—and Tor had insisted they stay and try again. Var had wanted to run for help, but Tor had argued there wasn’t time. Var had been the one to suggest moving slowly, and though they’d not been nearly as skilled as they were now, that’s what they’d done. They’d broken trees and lost the shield multiple times, but they’d persevered. They’d put out the fire. Var could still remember Tor’s stubborn face, shining with insistence that they see this through.

They’d returned to King Stronex’s castle soot-covered and blistered. Their mother had been furious, had hugged them, and had told them never to do something so foolish again.

Had they not come up with the correct method, they might have died. But had they run like Var suggested, the fire might have reached villages or fields, imperiling even more people.

And now, thanks to Tor’s persistence, Var knew what to do today. He lost track of time until the fire was finally out. His limbs trembled faintly, and he could feel sweat slicking his body. A cheer went up, and he smiled.