Such a Daring Endeavor Read Online Free PDF Page B

back at Micro, who maintains his steady posture, then to Ren beside me.
    Dircey straightens and gives a couple of lazy blinks. “You want to tell me
how
you supposedly undid the claw? Because last I checked that’s impossible.”
    I rub my thigh, remembering all too well the feel of the metal nail digging through my flesh, gnawing hungrily, parting my muscle on its way to the bone, almost as if it came to life the minute Gwynn sank it in. Dircey’s right to be skeptical. Once an Arcaian soldier uses his Xian claw to remove your magic, there’s no way to get it back.
    The Prone is on. Ren hasn’t been able to use his magic at all since we were stuffed in here. But I inhale and call mine.
    Cold cloaks my bones with an icy chill. And though the magic capers beneath the surface, chomping at the bit, aching to be released, I contain it to wrap around my hands like tinsel.
    Micro barges forward, but Dircey stands and stops him with an outstretched arm. Flecks of light shimmer and reflect in each of their eyes.
    “That’s impossible,” she says. “No one can use magic in this room. We don’t just have it rigged with a Prone—our goods can get around those. We sealed the door with Talc powder. Even I can’t use magic in here.”
    “Dircey.” Her name tastes weird to my tongue. Dear-See. “I could have done this at any time,” I say, offering my glittering hands to her. “The fact that I’m holding off should be proof enough. You can trust me.”
    I let the magic extinguish, and a breeze rushes through the room like a breath.
    Arms still folded, Dircey glares at me. Her gaze calculates, examining the two of us. Without a word, she stalks toward Ren. And while she stands a head shorter than he does, she demands the attention.
    “You know what’s at stake for us here.”
    “I’d never jeopardize anyone, Dirce. You have to know that.”
    “Yeah, but you did, Ren. They found us. Ayso got injured, and we lost Kent. We had no warning.”
    “I’m sorry,” says Ren. “If I could fix it—take it back somehow—I would. You don’t understand, Tyrus—”
    “How can I just let you go?” Dircey interrupts, her voice deadly soft. “I should kill you for this. Kill you both.”
    “Let me prove myself,” Ren pleads. I don’t like the unease in his voice. He knows more of what they’ll do to us than I do. I prep my magic, ready to fend off whatever they attempt.
    Dircey retreats, arms folded across her chest. She reaches for the doorknob, thrusting the door open and gesturing to the hall.
    “Move,” she orders. “But you try anything, Csille, and I won’t hesitate to take you down.”
    Ren leads the way out. It’s not a hallway, like I expect. It’s a main foyer, like that in the waiting room of an extravagant office building. The walls are faded and peeling, chunks of plaster missing as though nibbled away by local city wildlife. A few of the ceiling rectangles are missing as well, forming an odd checkerboard.
    Light breaks through multiple windows surrounding the space, and off to the side are what must have been elevators. A stairway set off by two columns is now covered in graffiti. No one sits in the mismatched chairs placed here and there, no one to see or greet us.
    “If what you say is true, prove it. Channel your magic out here,” says Dircey to Ren. “Set that chair…” She points to a chair with thin metal legs and a red plastic back near the door we just exited. “…beside the stairs.” She points to the stairwell.
    Ren closes his eyes and inhales. Sparks begin at his elbows, and I marvel at the confidence in my brother’s shoulders as he spears the stream toward the chair, lifting it and using two hands to modify its situation.
    Dircey’s mouth works, and she watches through half-lowered lids. Micro stands beside her as if waiting for her call. Hands glittering, Ren bares his teeth, crumpling to his knees as the chair crashes down on the tile.
    “That’s convenient,” says Dircey with