Chapter 12: The Torch

I did not think. I crossed the stone floor and caught my sister's wrists.

The torch hung between us, spitting sparks.

"Lorna." I held her eyes. "Look at me. Not at him."

"I can't," she whispered. Tears ran down her cheeks. "He's so loud."

"I know. Listen to me anyway."

Garth's voice rolled over the room. "Lorna. Do it now."

Her arm shook.

"You held that torch once," I said. "I remember what your face looked like. You smiled."

Her mouth trembled.

"Do you want to smile now?"

"No." It came out a sob. "No, Bri. I was so angry. I thought if I was the one with the crown, I'd finally..."

"I know."

"I didn't think it would be like this."

"I know. Put it down."

"Lorna," Garth said. "Burn her."

Lorna's whole body went rigid, and a long, ragged scream tore out of her.

Her arm swung. She flung the torch with all her strength, but not at Pippa.

It spun end over end across the room and dropped into the pit.

The black stone lining caught with a whoosh.

Old wolfsbane, packed into the cracks for years, went up in a column of purple flame. The room lit up like noon.

The heat rolled across us. Every wolf on the stairs ducked.

My chest cracked open.

I felt it before I understood it. A hot, vast, terrible pull from the very middle of me.

Lorna's eyes went wide and gold, and her mouth opened in a silent cry.

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