While Leanor had been stopped from doing something monumentally stupid, it didn’t change the reality of his situation. He needed to start acting, no more time for plans. It was vital he got more Elixir, and the freedom to operate without the leash his father kept around his throat.

  His mother had saved him. His father would kill him. As it had always been.

  The question was whether it would stay that way, whether he could weasel out of it before it tightened to the point of no escape.

  The white marble floor of Lithra shone beneath his feet, glass walls around him, stars spread across the night sky to guide the way ahead. His mother would distract. He would steal. It wasn’t elegant, but was all they could manage on short notice.

  As he crept around the corner, crouching low, his magic flowed in perfect rhythm, soothing nerves he should have felt. If he was caught, he would be executed. Then he froze as his eyes found the Fountain of Elixir. It stood in the open, gushing with the pink liquid of the gods as if it meant nothing. Unburdened by its importance. Unaware.

  Leanor swallowed, lifted his foot, and began to move, then stopped mid-step. The air shimmered in the corner, light refracting like a prism. Leanor concentrated, letting his magic run to his eyes until the world sharpened. It took a few seconds before his vision adjusted, before the outline became something more than a dark corner.

  A grey cloak rolled through the air like waves. Crill. His brother. Doubt bellowed in Leanor’s mind. He should have seen this coming, but he hadn’t.

  He bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood as he weighed his next move. But every decision, every path forward, led to the same conclusion. He would only have this chance.

  He concentrated, shaping a ball of condensed matter, hard enough to hurt but not enough to kill. Anything more would be a declaration of war. Death in Lithra was strictly banned.

  When the sharp edges softened, the dark, round sphere dropped into his hand with a soft thud. Too loud. Crill shifted, turning to reveal piercing blue eyes, dark caramel skin, and pearly white teeth.

  Their eyes met. A smile tugged at the corner of Crill’s mouth for a second, right up until he realised Leanor wasn’t supposed to be here. Leanor mouthed sorry, then flicked the matter-stone forward, magic trailing behind it in ribbons.

  The smile turned sour, and colour drained from Crill’s face, but he didn’t move. He didn’t have time. The stone made contact with skin. For a second he stood there, unmoving, the same expression plastered on his face, before he tipped backwards and a thud echoed around the room.

  Leanor was moving before Crill even hit the floor. He knew what he had to do. Even if he stole the elixir now, his father would be informed the moment Crill woke from his slumber.

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  Leanor dropped to his knees and placed both hands on his brother’s head. Crill’s skin was cold and rough, like hide. Leanor shoved the thought aside and pushed. Mind first. Will second. He forced himself into the darkness Crill had fallen into, trying to drive him deeper, keep him there.

  It wasn’t something Leanor was practiced at, but right now it was all he had. As his consciousness pressed further, it grew harder with every second. His mind felt like it was wading through quicksand, each thought dragging, his mission stretching farther away the deeper he went.

  He kept going. He had to.

  He didn’t know how long passed, only that at some point his mind met something hard and icy, like a wall buried in the dark. Leanor focused, sharpening himself, gathering what magic he could, then pushing it into a single point.

  He pierced the veil.

  It burst with a loud whoosh, and images flashed into existence, replacing the dull black void with memories. They flew past him. Crill growing up. Leanor. Their parents. For a second, the rush of it made him question his mission, made him forget why he was here. But he shook himself free and focused, letting his mind sift through the endless expanse until the most recent memory snapped into place.

  Leanor. The stone. The Fountain of Elixir.

  He reached for it with his magic and grabbed it. Then, with a thought, he crushed it. The memory splintered, shards of images scattering in every direction.

  He pulled his mind back. Like a rubber band, he flew backwards, his stomach jolting and his thoughts reeling. When he opened his eyes again, the world felt strange. Foreign. Everything swam in stars. He turned toward the fountain. It blurred, then swelled in his vision as the weight of what he’d just done finally hit his senses.

  Leanor let the focus return. But his heart lodged in his throat, because he’d expected a calm, empty room. There, clear as day, stood the amber-skinned Tristana, a thick, cruel smile on her lips. Before Leanor could even move, she vanished, like a wave in the air.

  Even if his mother was there to slow him, it wouldn’t buy him much time. He summoned the three flasks and crawled to the fountain, filling each to the brim before he slumped to the floor again. Now he regretted that he hadn’t brought more. The decision might come back to haunt him, but they’d deemed it an amount that wouldn’t be noticed.

  The ground rumbled, like thunder in a cave. Leanor flinched, he knew it was his father.

  “Home.” He spoke the word through gritted teeth with what strength remained.

  Then, in a flash of light, he saw his father’s face, mere inches from his own, a wild expression plastered beneath crazed eyes and flowing hair. But it was too late to catch him. The world shifted. Leanor’s stomach lurched. The warm floor of his home pressed against his back. He was safe. For now.

  His mind kept running a hundred miles an hour as he tried to make sense of it. He knew an open conflict was unlikely. His father couldn’t reveal that Leanor had been successful. It would only incite open rebellion, and Leanor hadn’t killed Crill. For now, it was more likely that his siblings would gain a political advantage.

  He groaned as he watched the stars. “Dammit.” All that work to gain an advantage, only to lose it like this. But then he remembered. He summoned the flasks, lifting them above his eyes as a smile settled in.

  He barely had time to savour the win before his father’s voice slid into his mind.

  Leanor’s smile vanished. The flasks winked out into storage, and his hands flew to his ears like that could help, like he could block a voice that lived inside his skull.

  “Rule change will be announced in one week at the family dinner. Please attend.”

  Please.

  It wasn’t a request. It was an order.