Rae Carson - The Girl of Fire and Thorns

Concern flickers in the animagus’s porcelain features for just a moment. It’s replaced by a feral smile. “I think you love your friends too much, little girl,” he hisses. He turns to the other two. “Burn the tall one.”

“No!” I can’t see Mara’s face, but I imagine it. I picture the droopy scar across her eyelid, her lips pressed together in determination.

Rosario drops the Godstones into my hand.

The animagi’s amulets are blazing now; I can hardly look at them. The one clutching Mara’s hair hauls her to her feet.

The champion must not waver .

I yank the golden flower from my sash and thrust the Godstones into the indentations on the petals. They click into place, fused there by sorcery. Streaming light from the animagus’s amulet plunges into Mara’s torso as I raise my own amulet toward him.

Please help me . God has never intervened to save the life of a person I care about. Still, I pray, willing the amulet to do something, anything. Just this once.

Nothing happens. The amulet does not even warm in my hand.

Mara’s screams rend the air. Something breaks inside me. “Wait! Stop!” I cry. “I’ll give you my Godstone. Just stop.”

The animagus thrusts Mara away. She crumples to the ground. Smoke rises from her clothes. Oh, Mara. You’ve already suffered so much .

As one, the three animagi advance on me, blue eyes on the strange object in my hand, their long fingers twitching like spider legs. Tears stream down my cheeks. I have failed so utterly. Rosario will not escape. The animagi will have their ten Godstones, and more. My hands fall to my sides, my chin drops. Four Godstones should have accomplished something.

Shouting, heavy bootsteps, the ring of steel. Joya’s soldiers pour through the doorway. The animagi turn from me, startled. I back away quickly, hand still grasping my failed amulet.

An animagus seizes Ximena by the shoulders and places her body in front of his; the other two grab Rosario and Alejandro. The presence of the soldiers makes no difference. Invierne’s sorcerers will still have what they want from me.

“Let them go,” a dark voice commands. Lord Hector! Foolish hope glimmers inside me. No, it’s the Godstone, sparking warmth.

“Leave this room at once, or we burn your king and queen.”

The Godstone pulses in manic excitement, like it’s going to burst from my belly. I look down, half expecting to see it glowing through my sash. I realize I have clutched the amulet to my stomach.

My mind is a fog of heat and certainty, my body awash with blistering power.

Four Godstones is not enough. Five is the perfect number, the divine grouping.

I turn the amulet over in my hand. There, in the back, almost hidden. Another indentation, perfectly centered.

Of course. A living Godstone should complete the holy grouping. My Godstone.

I tear the sash from my waist, pull up the edge of my blouse and hold it in my teeth. The Godstone gleams at me, and I gasp. Light swirls inside it. No, thousands of tiny lights, from white to midnight blue, whirl in a lazy, glittering maelstrom.

I press Roldán’s ugly amulet to my stomach. The muscles in my body tighten as it clicks into place. The sorcerer holding Ximena thrusts her to the ground and strides toward me, his eyes fixed on the amulet. He reaches for it.

“No!” Alejandro screams. He wrenches free of the animagus’s grasp and launches toward the one approaching me, yanking a dagger from his boot. He plunges it into the sorceror’s back.

The animagus freezes midstride, icy eyes opened wide. He drops to his knees, and blood bubbles on his lips.

The remaining two lift their amulets toward the king; light streams forth, crashes into his body. Alejandro collapses to the floor, shrieking in pain.

“Papá!” Rosario screams.

And then my amulet begins to spin like a pinwheel on the axis of my navel.

Everything tingles. The maelstrom of light from my Godstone is all around me now, swirling and beautiful and terrifying. My skin breathes in the energy of the earth, of the air around me, and feeds it to my living Godstone.

So much power! I’m panting, shaking. It’s all too big for my skin, too huge for me to hold. I will burst if I don’t do something soon. My amulet spins faster.

Instinctively, I do what I have practiced unceasingly for months: I pray, harder and more desperately than ever.

Dear God almighty, please deliver my enemies into my hands.

The maelstrom of light coalesces into a tight ball, a small blue sun hovering at my navel. I place my hands below it. Though the air crackles around me, it is cool in my palms. Wonderingly, I lift it toward the animagi.

Words stream unbidden from my lips. “My God is with me; I will not waver. My God is with me; His power is mine.”

The animagi gape at me in horror. I realize I’m quoting scripture in the Lengua Classica. I cannot stem the flow of words, and my voice grows stronger. “I will look in triumph on my enemies. They will scatter to the ends of the earth, and God’s righteous right hand will endure forever!”

The ball of light whirls. My body tingles with power. I’m shouting now.

“ I am God’s righteous right hand! And I will. Not. Waver.”

I splay my feet wide and toss my tiny, whirling sun high above my head.

It hovers near the vaulted ceiling a moment, spinning faster and faster, sending sparks in all directions.

A massive boom rocks the world as it explodes into a wave of heat and shimmering air. My hair blows back from my face; my skirt plasters against my legs. Windows shatter, and glass falls in a glittering wash all around me.

The animagi scream. I watch in horror and relief as their bodies wrinkle and wither and dissolve into blackened dust.

And suddenly, I am empty. Powerless. A drained husk of a girl.

My knees can no longer support my weight. I crumple to the floor as the amulet detaches from my stomach, plinks to the ground, slides under my bed.

I’m lying on my side, cheek pressed into my sheepskin rug, my eyes drifting shut. The amulet flares once where it lies, and winks out. I follow it into blessed darkness.

I wake to sun streaming harsh against my eyelids.

“Elisa?” A head hovers above me. I blink rapidly, but my mind clings to sleep. “Elisa! You’re awake.”

“Rosario?”

“Ximena! She’s awake.”

Another head. My vision is clearer now. My body aches everywhere, like I was beaten with wooden swords. “Ximena?” I croak, almost choking on the dryness in my throat. “What happened?”

She places a cool hand to my forehead and chuckles. “Elisa, my sky, you destroyed the animagi.”

I gasp out a sob of relief, remembering. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

“That amulet of yours. It sent a wave, like light or heat, all through the city. Every mirror and window in Brisadulce shattered. Then the animagi just . . . grew old right before our eyes. It was the strangest thing I’ve ever seen. They say the same thing happened to the two who remained on the battlefield.”

It’s overwhelming. The animagi are dead. Tears squeeze from the corners of my eyes. From habit, I put my fingertips to my Godstone and send a prayer of thanks. It responds with balmy warmth.

I gasp. “My Godstone. It lives.”

“Yes. I suppose God isn’t done with you yet.” I’m not sure I appreciate the amusement in her voice. The possibility that God has a further use for my stone could make me ill if I thought about it too much.

“Your amulet didn’t fare so well, I’m afraid,” she says. “When it fell away from your body, it blackened and shattered.”

“Invierne’s army?” I ask in a shaky voice.