In the gray twilight, the first snow of the year lay over the city like a wool blanket.

  The carriage wheels cut in and out of it, rattling over cobblestone as they sped south from the palace toward the Merchants District.

  The princess was trembling. Her face ghost white, she looked like she might start screaming at any moment, and Eliza didn’t know what to do. Just one more thing to control, one more unknown variable. Eliza grabbed the girl’s arm, then stuck her own head out the window to check on Rafe.

  The boy looked back from the driver’s seat with terror in his eyes.

  “Try to jump,” Eliza yelled, “and you’ll be incinerated. Nothing doing.”

  The delusion she’d put on him, helplessness, was holding. She ducked back inside.

  “What are we going to do?” Liv sounded scared, and Eliza got the uncomfortable feeling it was mostly of her.

  “You’re the thief… no offense. Any suggestions would be lovely.”

  “We can’t stay.”

  “That much I surmised already.” Though trying to be cold and rational, Eliza’s voice had anger in it. “Look, being on the run will be much easier if we can grab a few things from the house. Is that advisable?”

  “If we’re going to, best to do it now, unless the king has a way of alerting the cops faster than a carriage can travel.”

  “Drake might…” Eliza bit her lip, “But he doesn’t work with the yard. Not generally.”

  A thud came from below and Liv’s eyes went wide. She peered out the back, then looked relieved. “It was just the bridge ramp.”

  They crossed high above the water while the lights of the city glimmered through flurries of snow.

  “She’s nice, by the way,” Liv nodded to the princess. “A good person.”

  Eliza returned her attention to her captive, only now realizing the grip she held on the girl’s arm, the way her hand was squeezing it. She let go. “Sorry, sorry.”

  As the princess gave a single, shuddering nod, Eliza felt ill. How to explain? “Look, they want me to help them kill a lot of people… a whole lot of people.”

  She paused to let that sink in, hoping the girl might speak, might say, ‘Well that’s okay then.’ But all she did was sit there and tremble.

  “And they were going to give Liv to her stepfather, that bastard of a man. I couldn’t let that happen.” Eliza added, “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. I don’t do that sort of thing.”

  She looked to Liv, hoping for reinforcement, but all she got was a hesitant nod.

  A sound, metal on metal, hammered from behind, echoing off the water.

  Liv stuck her head out.

  “What was that?” Eliza asked.

  “I’m not sure… something in the shadows.”

  “They would never just let us go.” Eliza leaned out the window, flinching when the sway of the carriage almost threw her. She got a grip on the frame with one hand, and cast a line of spark with the other. Flames sprung up on the road behind, carving a twisting wall of fire to discourage pursuers.

  The carriage swerved hard left, and Eliza glanced over to see a wagon passing in the opposite direction, heading into the fire. Her stomach tingled with the chill as she yanked the firewall off to one side, away from the wagon, relieved when she hadn’t murdered its occupants.

  Behind, a dark figure stopped at the edge of the flames, holding an enormous sword over one shoulder.

  “They’ve sent Ulbrecht!” Eliza called out.

  Then the carriage swerved right, scraping past a taxi. Eliza yanked at her flames again, trying to keep them from incinerating it, while farther back, the first wagon they’d passed was turned sideways. Its horses were bucking away from the flames, trying to jump over the side of the bridge.

  Too many variables. Too many lives at stake.

  Eliza released her fire wall, letting its flames sputter in the air, one final flourish, before snuffing out.

  “Hold on!” She turned, peering ahead to the bridge’s exit ramp. It was clear, and as the carriage bounced over, she raised a short fire wall across it. “That will last maybe… four minutes.”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  ? ? ?

  The carriage stuttered to a stop in front of her townhouse. The streets were empty, the night silent, save for the patter of falling snow.

  Kicking the carriage door open, Eliza said to the princess, “Get out.” But the girl just stared at her until she snapped her fingers, shooting spark. “Now.”

  The four hopped down to the cobblestone.

  “You can go,” Eliza said to Rina. “Sorry about the… scary witch stuff. You too, burglar,” she said to Rafe, “but leave the carriage. And if you would, make sure she gets home. I imagine there’s coin in it for you.”

  Rafe stood there looking at the princess, dumbstruck, until Eliza shooed them off, “Go!”

  Then, pulling a startled Liv to the front door, Eliza raised her hand, commanding it to fling itself open. “Go to the room with the clocks. Grab the blue one. It’s worth a fortune and has sovereigns inside. Grab a can of rot brew from the kitchen. Then meet back here, quick as you can. I’ll get the books. The Sylvan too.”

  Pointing her hands downward, Eliza ran at the base of the stairs and, using her spark the same way she’d used it to move chests, flung herself up to the second-floor balcony. She looked down to see Liv staring, still not moving. “Go!”

  She ran to the library and snapped a candelabra to life. Satchel? Liv had one, the other was… who knows where.

  A line of embers shot across the top of a curtain as Eliza cut it free. She grabbed it, wrapping it around itself to form a rough bag.

  There were so many books in her collection, so many things she’d wanted to make time for. The last alone could have paid for a new townhouse.

  She pushed those thoughts aside and rushed to a low shelf where she’d placed reading for Liv. Math, science, anything mundane she ignored, grabbing books on battle magic, ward crafting, and charms, and shoved those into her curtain bag. She bit her lip, almost forgetting, and added a Sylvan language study too.

  Hesitating at the door to her room, she decided there wasn’t anything in there they’d need, but it was easy enough to pull her housecoat, soot-covered as it was, off the door handle, so she did.

  Oliver’s—Liv's room next. She grabbed the Sylvan book off the dresser and the Wordsworth dictionary. Clothes? No, they could steal some.

  Eliza checked and double checked the curtain bag. Everything seemed to be there.

  Then she ran back to the staircase and stopped dead in her tracks, dropping it all.

  Liv was in the foyer, dangling. Her feet kicking in the air, her hands sputtering spark uselessly, she was gasping, trying to free her throat, held fast by an armored hand.

  “Let her go!” Eliza demanded. “Or else.”

  Ulbrecht’s mouth curled into an amused snarl.

  He lifted his free hand forward, and his sword spun up on its own. Its chain rattling as the hilt aligned to his open palm, he took it.

  Embers popping from her fingers, arcs of red snapping in her hair, Eliza hopped over the railing and into the open air.

  Forcing spark from the pit of her stomach out through her hand, she sent a ball of red flame crackling toward the giant.

  Then pushing more spark down, she formed a pocket of hot air to cushion her fall. She landed with a whoomph, realizing her mistake: Liv would make a very handy shield. An image hit her, a boy knocking on her door, begging for a job, erupting in fire.

  But Ulbrecht spun, pulling the girl behind him, and his sword intercepted the ball, showering the floor with red spark. Then, keeping the sword raised, he made a series of short backward hops and retreated out the front door.

  Eliza flung herself with a spark push, lunging into the street after him.

  Ulbrecht, still carrying Liv like a rag doll, was backing away from the carriage when Eliza saw them: the remains of the two horses, now headless carcasses, slumped in the bloody snow.

  Hot breath licking her lips, cold sweat dripping down her sides, she lashed her spark at the ground and surrounded the giant with a circle of fire.

  Ulbrecht grinned, wide and bright, holding Liv out, and flinched her toward the flames.

  “Bastard!” Eliza let go of her spark, snow sizzling with its dying embers. She couldn’t attack, not while he had Liv.

  Holding the girl’s limp body, the giant spun his sword down and tucked it under one arm.

  And then Liv’s hand reached up and slapped his face. Lightning turned night into day as the entire block lit up. Staggering back, the giant dropped her.

  Eliza pounced, propelled on a stream of fire, as the last remnants of her dress burned away. Her hair fell to ash, replaced by a plume of flame as the air between them distorted, rippling with heat.

  As the giant hopped back, back away from Liv, a lance of fire burst into Eliza’s hand. He widened his stance, bending at the knee, and hopped up, letting Eliza pass under.

  He landed on the carriage. She plunged into a snowbank.

  Her lungs stung as they forced in cold air. The pit of her stomach tingled with burning as the snow around her collapsed into water and then burst to steam.

  Ulbrecht hopped effortlessly from the carriage to the first story roof. Then up again to the top of the townhouse. He swung his sword around by the chain and grabbed it overhand, like a spear.

  “Run!” Eliza yelled to Liv.

  The girl staggered up, looking for an instant like she was going to protest, but then began limping away, building up speed as she fled.

  Ulbrecht charged off the roof, making a leap any snow leopard would be jealous of. He sailed through the air and landed across the row, on a line of roofs that ran parallel to the fleeing girl.

  He would be on her in an instant.

  “No!” Eliza swirled spark as she ran, building pressure beneath her feet.

  Ulbrecht leapt into the air, and Eliza ignited her spark.

  In a twisting vortex, a fire tornado, Eliza shot herself at the giant.

  She grabbed hold of him. She’d never killed anyone, but she could not let him take Liv. Clutching his body, she swirled flame around them, forcing it into his chest.

  As they landed, his cloak turned to embers, revealing a suit of blackened armor that looked rough-hewn rather than forged.

  Still driving flame into him, Eliza stumbled forward.

  His sword, his face, his chest, all glowed with a dull red that brightened to orange as the heat worked its way in. And as he stood there smiling, he ran his fingers through his flowing hair, now glowing the color of melting butter.

  Eliza felt the chill in the pit of her stomach, the one that wasn’t exactly cold. Her feet faltered. The night spun around her.

  Ulbrecht’s body groaned like cooling metal as snowflakes sizzled off his skin.

  She was down now, on her hands and knees, struggling to stand, and as he grabbed her by the neck, Eliza felt the last remnants of her spark ripped from her body. Her vision dimming, the world dissolved into the chill.