Page 164 of Carousel

The magic is vibrating, like a ship about to take off. Or shatter.

I want you to feel completely sober when you inhale it. Wherever, and however, you do.

Drake’s hands are on my shoulders. I still don’t open my eyes. Try to stay here, in this moment – even though there are waves churning in my ears, and my head is a pounding, heavy weight.

“Ara. Whatever you are doing, stop. It is failing.”

No.

It has to work. I can do this.

I know I can do this.

I take advantage of the fact Drake has touched me, and channel his power too. Work it up through him, into me.

He cries out and tries to let go of me. But I keep him connected with me with a single command. Stay. It adds another strand to the magic, which is already fraying.

“Let me go,” he says, into my ear. “I will not help you with this. It is a waste of magic.”

A new voice, accompanied by footsteps.

“Is everything all right over here?”

The guard. I should have known we would attract his attention.

My teeth are scraping against each other so hard they might break. I can feel every muscle in my body.

I just need more time.

“Ara,” Drake stresses, his voice cracking – or maybe that’s my magic. “You cannot stop something like an addiction – that is what you are trying to do, isn’t it? It won’t work. It is too engrained.”

I don’t acknowledge him. His fear.

Simply continue to use him – his power – through me.

After all. Everyone always seems to use me.

I say my final command.

Cosmer. I want you to never let it hook you again.

The magic implodes. I am thrashing, living pain.

My eyelids are white.

The world puckers like it could kiss me. I open my mouth to let it in.

But instead, something leaks out of me.

I’m lying still. No longer in spasm.

I don’t know how much time has passed.

All I can see is the smoky world I recognise as the one in my mind. A carousel is turning in the distance. A jaunty song plays. Maybe something I heard performed by the morale boosters. The air is humid, like a fire could catch if I moved the wrong way.

“Let me radio the infirmary,” a voice is saying. But by the time it reaches me, it’s an echo, as if I’m hearing it from a shell.

“That won’t be necessary.” Drake’s voice. Also on the outside. “She fainted – and I don’t blame her, what with the temperature in here. She will recover momentarily.”