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bladelike shape in my hand that I can slam into his heart like an electrified stake. “I
will
kill you,” I tell him. “Unless you say it.”
    And I mean it.
    Something changes in Rowan’s eyes as I hitch my arm back to spike the lightning blade into his heart. A sickly, sweet scent, like rotting pomegranates, wafts up from his body.
    It’s the smell of fear.
    At the last second, I shift my aim. The lightning spike explodes against the stone floor, leaving a blackened crater next to Rowan’s head, and nearly takes off his ear. Chinks of marble go flying, sending the crowd scattering.
    I let go of Rowan and climb to my feet. The hand I held the lightning in throbs, but I refuse to look at it. Rowan clutches his chest while his friends help him to his feet. As soon as he is standing, he pushes their hands away. Like he hadn’t needed them in the first place.
    Rowan squares his shoulders and walks toward the great golden doors leading out of the antechamber. The remaining crowd follows him—ever on his side. He lets the others pass by him into the corridor, and just before leaving, he turns back. His eyes land on me as I tuck my burned hand behind my back. I’d held the lightning for a moment too long, and it hurts like Tartarus, but I won’t show any sign of pain with Rowan—or anyone else—watching me.
    The crowd follows his glare.
    Rowan is the one who lost the fight. He’s the one who was at my mercy—but he looks at me like
I’m
the one who should feel ashamed. They
all
look at me like that. His mocking smile returns. His lower lip cracks and bleeds, but he only licks the blood away.
    “Defending a Lesser? Sparing an opponent?” Rowan says. “How adorably predictable, nursling. Did
Mother
teach you such useless manners?”
    “Shut up,” I say, and raise my uninjured hand.
    Rowan makes a scoffing noise. “Your impulsiveness is so predictable. Ironic, I know. That’s why I know you’ll fail. Even if by some miracle Father goes through with his decision and actually allows you to pass through the gate tomorrow, you’re still going to lose. Because you’re weak.”
    “I’m stronger than you. I just proved that.”
    “Brute strength and good aim aren’t going to get you anywhere on this quest of yours, Haden. You lack the proper training. You’re a simple foot soldier, not a Champion. That takes brains, not brawn. Do you have any idea how to convince this Boon to return to the Underrealm with you? Do you know how to manipulate someone into doing and saying exactly what it is you want fromthem? Because all this little fight proved is that
I
do. You played your part so well, little nursling.”
    I open my mouth, ready with a comeback, but all I can think is that no matter what I say, it’ll be exactly what Rowan expects.
    “And when you
do
fail in this quest, I’ll be the one the Court turns to, to clean up your mess.” His smile widens. “No matter what you do, I’m still going to be the one who wins.” He sweeps through the doorway.
    I can’t help it. A great, raging burst of lightning escapes my hand. I fling it at Rowan. The electricity explodes against the heavy golden doors just as they bang shut between us. The force of the lightning ricochets off the gold and takes out the two alabaster statues that stand guard at the exit. I throw my hands over my head to shield myself from the flying stone bits.
    Only Dax and Garrick remain in the corridor with me—the only witnesses to my losing control. But I can
feel
Rowan’s smugness seeping under the doorway as he walks away with his adorers.
    I think I even hear laughter.
    The blood from my head wound drips off my chin and pools in the hollow of my collarbone. My hand is black and singed. Sweat prickles up from my pores as my body tries to cool the hot electrical currents that swirl inside my chest.
    Garrick steps close to me. Too close. I smell the stench of Keres on him. I think he is about to bow down in front of me and thank me like I’m