I tried to struggle, tried to die.

I couldn't.

He breathed, Focalor breathed into me. He forced Claire Fourcay's life force into my lungs. It was alien and unwelcome—but it was mortal and vital. I coughed, gagging on it, feeling it unfurl inside me and infuse my limbs.

The stone doorway faded.

The other remained.

Focalor let me go and rose. I knelt, retching, trying to expel the energy he'd forced into me. "Let it be, little bear-witch," he said in his pleasant tone. "You'll live. Long enough, at any rate." He turned to Raphael, clucking his tongue with mock dismay. "You should have cleaved to the gifts of healing, physician. The purity of that love, I might have believed."

Raphael pulled me to my feet and thrust me behind him. "Let Moirin go, my lord," he said in a ragged voice. "She wanted nothing to do with this. She's here for love of her father, nothing more. Her motive is the purest of them all."

"How can you think I mean her harm?" The spirit's eyes widened in a parody of innocence, lightning flickering in their depths. "Why, I saved her life when she tried to spend it. You brought her here, physician. You found her a useful tool. I do but complete the task to which you set her. I'll make you nigh unto a god." He smiled his knife-blade smile. "Although I fear there won't be much of you left to enjoy it."

Thunder rumbled.

Focalor held Raphael effortlessly, putting his mouth over his and exhaling, pouring his own essence into Raphael's body.

I tried to grapple with him to no avail. As long as the doorway stood open, we were not wholly in the mortal world and he had strength without substance. The cords on Raphael's neck stood out and his chest heaved as he struggled helplessly against the invasion, unable to breathe, his eyes terrified. Focalor's manifestation grew transparent as his essence filled Raphael. I wept in frustration and horror.

Somewhere, a door crashed, mortal and ordinary.

The spirit hesitated, his form growing more opaque.

And then there were panicked voices shouting in D'Angeline, another voice shouting wordlessly, and yet another speaking a foreign tongue in a calm, sonorous tone. A lean figure swept into the chamber like a whirlwind, spinning in circles, twirling a staff so swiftly it was a blur in his hands. Sparks shot from the ends of the staff, bursting with loud cracking sounds like an ember, only louder and brighter.

"Bao!" I cried.

"Stupid girl!" he yelled, driving Focalor toward the center of the star. "Get the stupid man away!"

I yanked Raphael backward. He took a deep, gasping breath and began coughing and retching, bracing his hands on his knees.

Bao's staff had ceased to shoot sparks. Bits of charred string and paper hung from the ends. Focalor eyed him as he spun it, then took a step forward.

And then Master Lo Feng was there, chanting serenely, holding a small, round mirror in his hands. Focalor averted his gaze from the mirror, held at bay.

"Stupid girl!" Bao retreated and cuffed my head. "Close the door!"

I winced. "I can't!"

"Then you die!"

"Bao is correct," Master Lo Feng said calmly. "You opened this doorway, Moirin. Now that the demon-spirit is unbound, only you can close it. If you do not, you will spend your essence and perish, and the spirit will linger, trapped and capable of much mischief."

"She can't." Focalor raised his head and gave me a smile full of malice. "There were great magicians born to your people once, weren't there? No more. What can you do on your own? Play peekaboo in the dusk? Sing to plants?"

I didn't answer.

He laughed. "You're good for nothing by yourself! You're a useful tool for other hands to wield. Save lives? I think not. You couldn't even open this doorway without the aid of a handful of inept scholars." Members of the King's Guard spilled into the chamber, hugging the walls, swords drawn. I wondered what they saw. Focalor sidled closer to me, avoiding Master Lo Feng's mirror. He loomed over me, bending his face close to mine, his spread wings casting me in shadow. A scent like the aftermath of a lightning strike hung in the chamber. "You're the half-breed offspring of a dwindling folk, nothing more."

He was vast.

But I had seen vaster. I had seen the Maghuin Dhonn Herself blotting out the stars. I had felt Her tread shake the earth. She had accepted me as Her own. I was Her child. I clung to that memory, and I felt Her presence embrace me, settling over me like a mantle. I was angry. She, too, was angry at his words. I drew strength from it.

I pointed at the doorway. "And you are nothing more than a god's discarded servant. Go!"

The foundations of the manor house trembled. Thunder rolled and rattled. I breathed the Breath of Earth's Pulse and said it again, pushing with all the strength I had—mine, and poor Claire Fourcay's, and the anger of the Maghuin Dhonn Herself. Go!

It came out as a guttural roar. And he went, Focalor went, retreating and banished. Step by step, he retreated, grimacing with rage. I felt the last of Claire Fourcay's fading life force drain out of me and pushed harder, drawing on my own dwindling reserves. The doorway sucked Focalor into itself, and I closed it with one last tremendous push. Its outline flared and vanished.

Done.

I sighed.

Bao rested one hand on my shoulder. "Not bad, stupid girl."

I leaned wearily against him. "Thank you."

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

The mood in the chamber was subdued, to say the least. The surviving members of the Circle avoided meeting one another's eyes—and most especially, they avoided my gaze. Orien de Legasse buried his face in his hands and wept. Balric Maitland turned his face to the wall and said nothing. Lianne Tremaine and Denis de Toluard clasped one another's hands, but didn't look at each other.

Raphael sat on the flagstones, Claire Fourcay's head in his lap, his head bowed over her lifeless figure.

The King's guardsmen glanced at one another, helpless and confused.

"I'm sorry," I said to Master Lo Feng. "I'm so sorry. I couldn't find a way to tell you."

He folded his hands into his sleeves. "Be grateful your Queen was wise enough to do so."

King Daniel entered the chamber, his face taut with fury. His guardsmen stood at attention. He was imposing in his anger. He spoke to Denis de Toluard in a low voice, and then to Lianne Tremaine. I saw the latter wince, then incline her head in acceptance. I suspected the youngest King's Poet in history had been stripped of her title.

He stood before Raphael. When he spoke, his voice was wintry. "De Mereliot."

Raphael shifted Claire's body with tender care and rose. "We broke no laws, your majesty," he said in a dull tone.

The King regarded him with contempt. "I have no words for you."

And then he came to me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, repeating myself. I was weary beyond telling. Only Bao's strong hand under my elbow kept me upright. "So sorry, your majesty. I failed you, I failed my lady. I failed everyone."

"Not in the end, child," he said with a gentleness I didn't deserve. "Come, let's get you home. Jehanne's sick with worry."

Home.

Home sounded like a wonderful notion. Once it had been a cave, warm and snug and safe. Now it was a bower at the Palace. All I wanted to do was fall into bed beneath the overhanging ferns and sleep for days, then awake to apologize a thousand times and find absolution in Jehanne's arms.

But I had to confront Raphael.

To his credit, he met my gaze without flinching. And I found that like the King, I had no words for him. Instead, I stooped and touched Claire Fourcay's cheek. Her skin was still warm. Her motives may have been tainted, but at least I could understand them. I'd been just as foolish. I should never have let Raphael use me in the first place. Once upon a time, I'd wanted so much for him to care for me.

"Moirin." His voice was hoarse. "Lest it need saying, I release you from your oath of silence. And—"

I straightened and found a word worth saying. "Good-bye."

Raphael nodded and said nothing more.

He stayed behind when we left. All the members of the Circle stayed. And although a large part of me hoped I never saw any of them again, I couldn't help but glance behind one last time as we left the chamber. Raphael was watching me. For a second, I thought I saw a faint spark of lightning in his grey eyes; then I blinked and it was gone, leaving only guilt and abiding sorrow in its place.

I shuddered.

Never in my life had I been so glad to see the sky. I breathed deeply with no particular art, just filling my lungs with clean air. After what had transpired, it seemed like it should have been the dead of night, but it was still morning.

"Can you ride?" King Daniel asked me gently. "I'll commandeer a carriage if you're not strong enough."

"I'll manage." I swallowed. "You shouldn't be so kind to me, your majesty. I'm as guilty as any of them."

He was silent a moment. "Raphael de Mereliot spoke the truth," he said at length. "You broke no laws. And it is in my thoughts that mayhap if I had not governed so cautiously, if I had given my people somewhat greater to strive for and dream about, these few would not have been driven to such lengths in search of glory."

"Mayhap," I murmured.

"One is never given to know such things," he mused. "Such is the burden of rule. But I do hold you less to blame, Moirin. For all your uncanny ways, you're young and inexperienced. De Mereliot forced your hand cruelly; and even so, you found a way around your oath. Still, I heard him release you from it, and I expect you to give a full accounting of this business, holding back nothing and protecting no one, least of all Raphael de Mereliot. They may have broken no laws, but this is a matter that must be exposed. Will you do so?"

I nodded fervently. "With all my heart!"

It was a somber ride back toward the City. The guardsmen spoke in hushed whispers of what they had witnessed. King Daniel conversed in low tones with Master Lo Feng. I concentrated on remaining upright in the saddle, grateful for Blossom's smooth gait and mindful that I was only conscious, let alone alive, by virtue of Claire Fourcay's unwilling sacrifice and the grace of the Maghuin Dhonn Herself.

Bao stuck close to my side, ready to catch me if I toppled, muttering under his breath about my stupidity. For once, I couldn't begrudge him.

"How did you know what to do?" I asked him. "How did you make sparks and thunder come from your staff?"

He shrugged. "Everyone know you use pao to drive away demons. You no have pao here?"

"No," I said. "I don't think so."

Bao showed me the charred bits of paper dangling from the end of his staff. "String of pao. Only fire-powder and paper. No magic. Mirrors good, too. Demon can't look at they own face." He raised his eyebrows at me. "You lucky we in time. That demon-spirit, he get into Lion Mane, maybe nothing make him go. Big trouble then."

I was confused. "Lion Mane?"

"The stupid man," he clarified.

"Raphael."

"Uh-huh." He nodded. "Master Lo right. You lucky the White Queen smart enough to send for him." He snorted. "Ten time smarter than you, anyway. If she don't….." He drew his thumb across his throat. "I think you and lot of people get dead."

"I know," I said quietly. "Believe me, I do."

Bao regarded me. "You did good. Strong." Unexpectedly, he grinned. "You see the face on that demon-spirit when you shout and make the ground shake? Big surprise."

It made me smile a little. "Very big surprise. For me, too."

"Uh-huh." He looked away. "Huh. Rider coming."

I glanced down the road to see a guardsman in Courcel livery approaching at a good clip. King Daniel raised his hand to call a halt. We waited. The guardsman approached and drew rein, his lathered mount prancing sideways.

"Your majesty!" he called in an urgent voice. "There's a rather large delegation coming! And begging your pardon, they were quite insistent."

The King frowned in perplexity. "I expected no such thing. What delegation? Are they hostile or friendly? Who are they and from whence do they come?"

"From Ch'in." The guard pointed at Master Lo Feng, who sat serenely upright in the saddle. "They're looking for him."

I glanced at Bao. He shook his head. "Very big surprise."

"Well," King Daniel said mildly, looking sidelong at Master Lo Feng. "That's never happened before. Let's see what they want, shall we?"

A short time later, we rounded a curve in the road and came upon the delegation. I sucked in my breath at the sight of them. There were at least fifty mounted warriors riding in a tight formation, all with the golden-brown skin and dark, tilted eyes of the Ch'in. They wore armor plated like scales and adorned with gilt and pointed helmets, curved swords at their sides. I was accustomed to Bao and Master Lo Feng, but such a large party of their countrymen looked strange and out of place here. The King's guardsmen regarded them uneasily, hands hovering over their sword-hilts.

"Lo Feng Tzu?" the leader inquired.

Master Lo inclined his head. "Shi."

In unison, every last warrior dismounted and bowed. Head still lowered, the leader poured out a torrent of Ch'in, bowing again to Master Lo and then to King Daniel.

"General Tsieh apologizes for disturbing you, your majesty," Master Lo translated. "He comes on a very urgent errand."

"Name of Elua!" The King looked dumbstruck. "How urgent can it be? How many months have they been on the road?"