Starsinger

Striker

The barge had to be a transport ship, Jace reasoned. It was too small for anything else.

Who could they be transporting that would be worth wasting four warships for defense? Perhaps one of King Caspar's many heirs. But if that was the case, why not hang back and keep the princeling removed from the battle? Instead the barge and her escort were plowing straight toward the first wall of Aster.

"I never picked you for a traitor," said Commander Vance.

A muscle jumped in Jace's jaw. "I'm no traitor, commander."

"You were one of us." Vance's voice was low and solemn. "A lieutenant of the Flint Guard, sworn to protect the king against these new threats. Now you ally yourself with serpents and attack his subjects."

"They're not—" Jace rounded on Vance, and the look of disgust in the First Strategist's eyes cut him to the core. Gods, how I wanted to be you.

"We were wrong, commander," Jace said softly. "Magic is here. It always has been. We can't go back, and we can't afford to be afraid of it."

Commander Vance's eyebrow twitched. "You want Zareyma to embrace this menace?"

"It's not a menace if you're prepared for it."

"We are prepared for it," Vance burst out. "Damn it, Brasher, you gave us the spell we needed to stop this. We can use it. There's still time."

Jace winced. "I was wrong. That spell is dangerous."

"Dangerous to our enemies. Dangerous to those whose magic would thrust the world into chaos."

"Magic is a tool," Jace said. Delia's words felt strange in his mouth. "Like a sword, it can be used for good or ill, depending on the person who wields it."

"Swords are only useful when they swing on the king's command," growled Vance. "You were trained to obey."

"Then you know what this costs me," Jace snapped. "Since I offered the king my service, I have followed every order without hesitation. I built my life around it. Let the king's will guide me instead of my own. Choosing a different path now means recognizing that all those decisions, all those choices to obey may have been the wrong choices."

A bubble of helpless laughter burst at his lips. "I thought I chose duty and honor, but what if I just chose to give up responsibility?"

Commander Vance was staring at Jace with a strange expression. Wonder? Alarm? Confusion? Jace couldn't tell. Where's Aaron when you need him?

Aaron. Jace glanced nervously towards the sky. No fire arrow. Which either meant his friend was fine or already dead.

He's fine. Give him some credit. Jace tried to settle his anxiety. A good leader trusts in his squad.

Then the screaming started.

Jace dashed to the edge of the parapet. He scoured the second wall for danger, but Delia and the Apprentices were fine, still locked in magical battle with the Ravens aboard the Bloodhound.

No, the wails were coming from the first wall. A trebuchet had caught fire, and the archers were running from it. But... slowly. They were slipping and falling over each other, as if they were wading through a swamp.

Then Jace saw it. The slight dip as the stone beneath the trebuchet began to bend and give way. The molten rivulets that rolled down the sides like molasses, leaving black scorchmarks in their wake. The first wall of Aster was melting.

Whitley. His friend was down there. Jace whipped out the spyglass he'd borrowed from Katrina. He couldn't see the sapper, but he watched smoke rise from the stone as it slowly hissed and liquefied. He caught a glimmer of rose and yellow light.