Shouting woke me. I sat up, the pain in my hands still strong despite being locked in place. The entire world felt like it was stuck in syrup. My lips were cracked.

"Get up, magetrix!"

I blinked away the blurriness and saw Vincent already in my cell reaching down for me. I flinched out of the way and scrambled to my feet, immediately tipping over to the side. He grabbed my upper arm and held me upright, beginning to yank me toward the door.

"Time to see the king. Let's make this an easy day, shall we?"

I felt Ember's ribbon rubbing the inside of my nightdress. I couldn't tie it in my hair with my hands, let alone around my wrist or ankle.

The pain in my hands and ribs had steadied, but I was still devoted to keeping they as still as possible. That was going to be an impossible goal very shortly.

Don't do what the kings asks. Don't do it.

My mind focused on that singular command.

We made our way up some stairs and past curious eyes. I must have looked—and smelled—atrocious. I was still wearing the shawl, thankfully, but my legs were freezing in the morning air. Seeing the sun made my chest ache.

We traced a familiar path until we diverted, and we ended up in a throne room. The king sat comfortably, perched as if he hadn't a care in the world.

We stopped in front and Vincent bowed, yanking me down to mimic his motion.

"Magetrix!" the king called. "Step forward."

I glanced at Vincent, who was still bowing. I took a few tentative steps forward.

"Closer, child. You have no reason to fear." His words provided no consolation. He chuckled. "We are on the same side."

No. No we were not.

"Magetrix, I must confess that I am happy to see you out of your cell. They're hardly suitable quarters for a Slate of your capacity." I nodded. He smiled and gestured for me to move forward again. "I must confess, I am impressed by your ability. And glad at your compliance, even if it took a bit of motivation." His eyes lingered on my hands.

"What do you want?" I asked. He smiled.

"Straight to the point." He nodded to a servant, who handed him a glass of wine. He sipped it, swishing the liquid around his mouth before swallowing with a refreshed sigh. "In my younger years, I was not fond of pleasantries. I thought they were a hindrance to the real work. Now, I think I've come to appreciate them for what they are." His eyes wandered around the room before locking onto him.

"What do you want?"

He smirked and set his glass of wine down. "I have only a small favor to ask. Low commitment with high reward. You see I am very grateful for the work you did yesterday. Far surpasses what hundreds of Slates tried in the past. Yet today I have a headache that not even wine can chase away. Would you be so kind as to heal whatever mild ailment has caused the headache?"

My heart was beating furiously. Nobel's words echoed in my ears. Don't do it. "No."

The king balked and coughed in surprise. "Excuse me."

"I will not."

He tilted his head. "Perhaps you misheard. I am asking for a minor remedy. I am alive and well. I could have any Slate do the task, but I am asking you."

I took a deep breath. "No."

He narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps I haven't been clear. If you heal this mild malady, I will rearrange your living quarters and have Slates attend to your wounds. If you refuse, Vincent will break the rest of your fingers and whatever else he finds necessary before you agree."

I forced down the panic building in my throat. I felt the bulge of the pink ribbon against my chest. "I refuse."

The king nodded. "So be it. Vincent?"

I winced in preparation, but Vincent only grabbed my upper arm and pulled me back. A few guards flanked him, and I shoved back. He let go and two guards seized me, pulling me back down into the dungeon.

Please let Nobel be right.

They led me back into the torture chamber and paused. Another man was chained against the wall, face covered by a bag. Vincent was pacing the room in frustration.

"Chain her to the wall. We'll burn her," he finally decided. I screamed at them, but the guards manhandled me to the wall and cuffed my wrists above my head against the wall.

My idiocy was beginning to come to light. Why had I trusted Nobel? All he showed me was a pink ribbon. "Help!"

Vincent rolled his eyes and nodded his head at the guards. "Get the iron white hot." They complied, sliding another piece of metal into a blazing fire.

"Vincent," I begged. "What's the point of this? Why does the king care if I heal him?"

Vincent walked up to me and drove his fist into my stomach again. I gasped in pain, trying to breathe through the pain. "Because he doesn't want to deal with disobedient dewloi. You know you're making me look bad? My father gave me a stern talking to last night. He asked why I didn't cover your body in brands like a cow. Thought I was weak." He let out a short laugh and glared at me. "Well, after today, he won't worry if I've gone soft."

He continued pacing and I squirmed in panic.

"How long until the iron's ready?" he shot to the guards.

"Fifteen minutes?" one guessed.

Vincent swore. "Maybe I should just break her legs."

"We can grab the old one," one of them suggested, nodding to an iron that was already in the fire.

Vincent shoved past him and grabbed the heavy protective glove. He grabbed the cool end of the stick and lifted it from the flames. It was white hot. It would absolutely melt my flesh.

My entire body buzzed with panic. No. No. No. Why did I refuse? Why did I do this? "Vincent, I changed my mind," I blurted out. "I'll heal him. I'll do it."

Vincent shook his head. "Too late, dewlos. You will heal him, but not after I do some decorating." He lifted the piece of metal ,and I heard the metal hissing as he brought it closer to me.

"I wouldn't do that," the man next to me said lowly. It was the man chained next to me.

"What did you say, bi—"

The man responded by jumping off the wall and grabbing the hot end of the iron and wrenching it from Vincent's hands. The guards jumped back but ran into two guards who ran them through with their swords.

The man with the bag over his head spun Vincent around smoothly, holding the white-hot rod against his throat. The man's hands burned white hot, and Vincent slowly faded into ash in front of my eyes.

My voice caught in my throat, my fear still driving anxious energy into my limbs at an outrageous pace.

"Took you guys long enough," the man with the bag over his head said, pulling it off.

His dark eyes met mine and I almost passed out.

Ember.