Heat.

  I felt the vellus on my arms vaporize as flames erupted from the duchess’s fingertips and grazed my body, setting the ribbon on my dress uniform alight. Stumbling back, I quickly extinguished the fire with my off hand and drew my blade with my right.

  “Your Grace, are you certain I can’t convince you to settle for a written note?”

  The duchess shrugged. “Solana tends to let letters pile up unopened, you see. She only truly gets a message if it’s delivered physically. Judging by the heirloom at your side, I suspect engraving my feelings on your flesh would suffice to get her attention.”

  Solana’s tutoring ran through my mind.

  Coroban wielded fire on instinct, totally unbound from the constraints of magical schemas or the delay of invocations. In short: the worst possible opponent for a swordsman. Her flames would devour the air I needed to breathe, set my hair alight, and melt my weapon. And on top of that, she could fight up close, unharmed by her own magic.

  At least we were alone. No bystanders to set on fire and use against me.

  The duchess stretched her arm up into the air. A massive scythe materialized in her grip, its blade razor thin and made entirely of roiling fire.

  Oh, that looks very hard to parry.

  She bowed politely, then swept the flaming scythe straight at my neck.

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  My vision blurred. Where was I? Was I still standing? My head seemed to be connected to my shoulders, at the very least. Pretense was still gripped in my hand, its familiar warmth spreading through my fingers. Right—I was still armed.

  The duchess paused and looked me over, the magic scythe smoldering in her idle hands. “How interesting. Please, show me more.” The scythe flew forth once again, this time aimed at my waist.

  Instinct took hold of my spine and sent my sword rushing forward. Blade clashed against flame, halting the scythe. Pretense glowed blinding red in my vision.

  The scythe dissipated, and the duchess clapped her now-empty hands with delight. “Oh, wonderful! Solana must care deeply to gift a treasure like that to you. I’ll have to ask her where she found it.” She paused. “Hello? Can you still hear me?”

  I could, though it was a struggle. Something was very wrong. Was it fear that gripped me so tightly, or had something else wrapped itself around my chest and crawled its way into my head?

  “In any case, I’ve still a message to send, so enough playing around. Do you think one arm will suffice?” With this, Duchess Coroban summoned a pair of scythes, and, wielding one in each hand, swung.

  An image rose from my memory: the fairy’s lake, frozen over in the middle of winter. It shone beautifully in the midday sun. All around, icicles draped from the trees in shimmering curtains, ice bending the light into rainbows that refracted through Helian’s eyes, making them look like gemstones.

  I shut my eyes tight, gripped Pretense tighter, and while recalling another memory, snapped my fingers.

  ------

  When I came to my senses, the sun had already set. The countess was staring down at me with concern, her figure framed by… something unrecognizable. My whole body was numb.

  “You’d best lie still, little bird. The healer is on his way, so do your best not to flap your wings.”

  “I… still have my arms?”

  “Despite punching your dance card with the duchess, yes. The frostbite isn’t too severe, so a bit of love and attention from a proper healer should fix them right up. I doubt he’ll be able to do anything about those singed eyebrows, however.”