Chapter 30
THIRTY
TAMSIN
Power.
There’s no other word for it. Pure, undiluted, overwhelming power flooding through me, filling every cell, every thought, every heartbeat with something vast and ancient and terrible.
The Crown expands above my head, shedding its crystalline shell to reveal the true form within. Interlocking geometric patterns of light cascade outward, forming a corona that hovers inches above my hair. White light—the same color as my fire—pulsing in rhythms that match my heartbeat.
I can feel everything.
The Fire-Bringers’ flames—I sense each one distinctly now. Selene’s gold, warm and steady. Aisling’s orange, controlled and precise. Nasyra’s shadow-touched darkness, complicated and deep. They feel small compared to what’s burning inside me. Candle flames beside a sun.
My own fire blazes brighter than stars. I can reach out and ignite the air itself. Turn the stone beneath my feet to molten glass. Burn through the wards protecting this courtyard, through the walls of the fortress, through the mountain itself if I want to.
And my witch magic—
It resonates at frequencies that make reality shiver.
I can see the wards around the courtyard now, every thread of their construction visible to my amplified senses.
Unravel them with a thought. Rebuild them a hundredfold stronger.
Reach into the fabric of the world itself and reweave it according to my will.
Level mountains.
Boil seas.
Unmake anything that stands against me.
For a heartbeat—one endless, crystalline heartbeat—I finally grasp why Morrigan wanted this. Why she destroyed our family, killed an innocent girl, allied with monsters. For this feeling. This intoxicating, addictive, seductive rush of limitless possibility.
I see why Ulrik would destroy kingdoms to claim it. Why the Shadow Clan has been hunting Relics for centuries. Why anyone with even a taste of this power would burn the world to hold onto it.
More, the Crown whispers. It doesn’t speak in words—it speaks in sensation, in the promise of what awaits. Take more. Be more. You were made for this. Why would you ever let it go?
My fire flares higher. The corona above my head blazes brighter. The stones beneath my feet begin to glow with heat I’m not consciously producing.
Somewhere distant, I hear voices. Calling my name. Concerned. Afraid.
Why would they be afraid? I can protect them. Shield them from any threat. Make them untouchable, invincible, safe in ways they’ve never been safe before. All they have to do is let me—
“Tamsin.”
Auren’s voice. Not shouting—he doesn’t shout. But cutting through the roar of power with the precision of a blade, finding me in the inferno I’m becoming.
“Come back to me.”
The words hit somewhere deep. Pierce through the Crown’s seductive whisper to the part of me that’s still Tamsin. Still the woman who woke in his arms this morning. Still the princess who chose her side and refuses to break.
I reach for my witch magic. Not the amplified version—the original, the root, the control my ancestors cultivated specifically for this purpose. The ability to seal what Fire-Bringer flame has opened.
The Crown fights me.
No—that’s not quite right. The Crown doesn’t have will. It’s just power, ancient and vast, and power doesn’t want to be contained. Doesn’t want limits. The magic surging through me resists compression the way water resists being pushed uphill.
I push anyway.
My witch magic wraps around the Crown’s energy, containing it, compressing it, forcing it back into the crystalline prison that held it before.
The process feels like shoving a hurricane into a bottle.
My muscles strain. My heart pounds. Sweat breaks out across my skin, immediately evaporating in the heat rolling off me.
Come back to me.
I hold onto those words. Use them as an anchor. Something worth returning for. Something more important than all the power in the world.
Inch by inch, the corona contracts. The geometric patterns fold inward. The light dims from blazing to bright to merely brilliant.
And then the Crown seals.
The sphere sits in my palm again, beautiful and harmless, as if nothing happened at all.
My legs give out.
Cold arms catch me before I hit the stone.
Auren. Of course, it’s Auren. He’s there before anyone else can move, gathering me against his chest, his chill cutting through the residual heat still radiating from my skin.
I press my face into his neck and breathe—cold air, cool skin, the faint scent of winter that clings to him no matter the season.
“I’m all right.” My voice comes out hoarse, scraped raw by power. “I’m all right.”
“Your hands are shaking.”
I look down. He’s right. My hands tremble against his chest, fine tremors running through my fingers. The Crown rests in my palm, dormant, innocent, giving no indication of what it nearly turned me into.
“That was—” I swallow. “That was more than I expected.”
The others have closed in around us. Selene’s face is pale, her gold fire extinguished. Aisling’s healer’s hands hover near me, ready to intervene. Nasyra watches with knowing eyes—she grasps, perhaps better than anyone, what it’s like to be consumed by power you didn’t ask for.
“You were glowing.” Rurik’s voice holds none of its usual humor. “White fire everywhere. The stones started melting. For a second, I thought—”
He doesn’t finish. Doesn’t need to.
“But you sealed it.” Drayke’s voice is measured, assessing. “You opened the Crown, wielded its power, and sealed it again. Can you do it again?”
The question cuts through the aftermath. Practical. Strategic. The question of a king planning a war.
“Yes.” I force steel into my voice. “I can do it again.”
“You barely sealed it this time,” Auren says quietly. His arms haven’t loosened. If anything, he’s holding me tighter, as if he can keep me safe through sheer force of will. “I watched you fighting it. Another few seconds—”
“Another few seconds and I would have found my balance.” I pull back enough to meet his eyes. “It surprised me. The intensity of it. But now I know what to expect. I won’t be caught off guard again.”
“Tamsin—”
“I can do this.” I cup his face in my still-trembling hands. “I have to do this. Ulrik’s defenses won’t break for anything less. And I won’t—” my voice cracks slightly “—I won’t let you fly into that battle without every advantage I can give you.”
Something shifts in his expression. The fear doesn’t disappear—I don’t think it will, not until this war is over and we’re both still breathing. But something softer joins it. Something that makes my chest ache in the best possible way.
“You came back,” he murmurs. Low enough that only I can hear. “When I called. You came back.”
“I told you.” I press my forehead against his, not caring that everyone is watching. Let them see. Let them know. “I have something to come back to now.”
His hand slides into my hair, gripping gently, possessively. The touch grounds me more effectively than any magic. Reminds me who I am when the Crown’s power threatens to make me forget.
“The Crown,” Aisling says, her practical voice cutting through the moment. “What did it feel like? I need to know what we’re dealing with if something goes wrong during the assault.”
I pull back from Auren reluctantly, turning to face the healer. His arm stays around my waist, supporting me. I lean into the contact.
“It felt like...” I search for words adequate to describe the indescribable.
“Everything. Every ability I have, amplified until I couldn’t tell where I ended and the power began.
I sensed your fires—” I nod at the Fire-Bringers “—and they felt small, candles next to what was burning inside me. I saw the wards around this courtyard, every thread of their construction. I could have unraveled them. Rebuilt them. Done anything.”
“The stones.” Nasyra’s quiet voice draws attention to the ground around me. Scorch marks radiate outward from where I stood, the rock blackened and partially melted. “You weren’t trying to do that, were you?”
“No.” I stare at the damage. “That was just... overflow. Excess power bleeding off because I couldn’t contain it all.”
“If that’s overflow,” Selene breathes, “what happens when you actually direct it?”
“Ulrik happens.” Zyphon’s rasping voice cuts through. He’s moved closer, his violet-cracked presence darker than usual. “His wards. His defenses. Eight centuries of accumulated power, shattered in seconds.” His mouth twists into something that might be a smile. “I’d call that acceptable overflow.”
“We move at dawn.” Drayke’s voice carries command. “A full day’s flight to reach the stronghold. Tamsin, can you hold the Crown open for an extended assault?”
I think about the power. The seductive whisper of limitless possibility. The way it tried to consume me even in those few seconds.
“Not indefinitely. The Crown draws on life force as well as magical reserves. Extended use would...” I hesitate. “Would burn me out. But I can hold it long enough to break his defenses. Long enough to give you an opening.”
“And then?”
“Then I seal it and fight with what I have.” I lift my chin. “I’m still the most powerful Fire-Bringer alive, with or without the Crown. Ulrik won’t find me easy to kill.”
Auren’s arm tightens around me. I feel his disagreement in the tension of his muscles, the way his jaw goes tight. But he doesn’t argue. He knows, as I do, that this is the only way.
“Dawn,” Drayke repeats. “Rest today. All of you. This will be the hardest fight of our lives.”
The gathering begins to disperse. Rurik claps Zyphon on the shoulder, murmuring something that makes the shadow dragon’s mouth twitch.
Selene takes Drayke’s hand, pulling him toward their quarters.
Aisling lingers, her healer’s eyes assessing me one final time before Rurik appears at her elbow to lead her away.
Nasyra pauses beside me. Her mismatched eyes—one purple, one pale pink—hold mine for a long moment.
“The power,” she says quietly. “It whispers, doesn’t it? Tells you what you might become if you just let go.”
My throat tightens. “Yes.”
“Don’t listen.” Her hand brushes my arm—brief, barely there. “Whatever it promises, the price is too high. I know.” Her gaze flickers to Zyphon’s retreating back. “Believe me, I know.”
Then she’s gone, melting into the shadows that seem to welcome her, leaving me alone with Auren in the scorched courtyard.