chapter eighty-eight

I saw them move toward Lena, and then my vision flickered, and there was only magic pouring forth to tear her from existence. It was like staring at an optical illusion, a landscape that suddenly resolves into the face of a man, or a goblet that becomes the silhouette of two faces. They weren't casting a spell; they were the spell. They reached out, flesh and magic stretching to touch Lena's arm, to unravel the cells of her body one by one.

I couldn't read the expression on Lena's face as she collapsed. Fear?

Sadness? She didn't appear to be in pain, for which I was grateful.

"Wait!" I could bargain for her life, trade the books for Lena. Trade myself, if that was what Deifilia wanted.

Deifilia stepped back and watched, completely entranced by Lena's pain.

She seemed not to hear me at all.

Nor did she see as Bi Wei reached skyward and pulled down the stars' fire upon the two magical ghosts.

They should have died instantly, but I could see them moving within the twin pillars of white flame, pulling Bi Wei's attack into themselves, trying to reshape her magic.

Bi Wei's eyes bulged. Blood trickled from her neck as the millipede clamped tighter, cutting off her breath and the circulation to her brain. Inside her body, tiny metal serpents seemed to be finishing the job. She would be dead in seconds, as would Lena.

I studied Deifilia, trying to see not the physical form, but the words that had brought her to life. I didn't have her book with me, but the text was seared into my memory. I focused on the final battle when the nymphs and the commoners rallied together behind John Rule to overthrow a false ruler. I knew this book, knew the snippets of text that defined her powers.

Her hand glided over the shaft of her spear. The wood thickened in response to her gentle touch.

Correction: I knew the snippets of really bad text that defined her powers.

Branches swung low, weaving together to form nets, ripping soldiers from their footing and dangling them in the air like freshly killed smeerp.

Her fingers sank into the crevasses of the bark, touching the hot wood beneath.

Why would the wood be hot? Neptune was a cold planet, even with— I stopped myself. Following that trail of thought would only lead to distraction and frustration.

Under ordinary circumstances, the nymphs were no match for the Lords of Neptune, but here in her grove, the strength of her oak pumped through her veins like fire.

I could imagine my fingers sinking into the text, but the wood of the tree remained stubbornly solid. How had Gutenberg done it? He hadn't touched Smudge to take his magic. He had simply reached out and drawn it from the air between them.

I stretched my arm toward Deifilia. The movement sent new pain tearing through my leg.

Bi Wei collapsed. Blood dripped from her mouth and nose. The starfire was fading, leaving behind a smell like an arc welder. The two ghosts remained standing, but they were in bad shape.

I wasn't strong enough. Not without my books. I could see the words, but I couldn't touch their magic. I wasn't Gutenberg. This was my plan, and it was going to fail, and I was going to have to watch Lena die in front of me.

Even Gutenberg used books for magic, though he was a lot cooler about it than I was. But he hadn't had Smudge's book, and I doubted he had bothered to read it before that encounter. He had never struck me as a fan of lowbrow sword and sorcery. How did you tap into the magic of a book you didn't have and had never read?

But he had read it. During that battle two months ago and again at the library, I had seen words inked beneath Gutenberg's skin. And he had referred to spells written on my being.

I needed to stop thinking of the book as separate. The text was a part of

Deifilia. Her core. Her soul.

I imagined the overlapping blocks of printed text swirling through Deifilia's center. I had done this before. I had glimpsed Gutenberg's spells. I had read the words printed into the automatons. As I stared at Deifilia, I saw the magic sparking within her. I saw it in Lena, too, though the words were blurring.

Deifilia pressed a hand to the trunk of the tree. Bark pulled free in a long, thick strip, which lengthened into a dagger.

I concentrated on the words I had seen in that moment. Gutenberg had made this look so easy, dammit. I didn't even have to cast a spell. That work had already been done. I just needed to borrow it for a minute. But without that physical connection, I couldn't—

"Idiot!" I had a physical connection. This was Deifilia's grove now. She had raised these trees, and she had all but taken Lena's oak for herself.

How many times had Lena explained that the tree was as much her body as her human form?

I reached into the tree, read the magic there, and pulled it into myself.

I had to close my eyes to keep from passing out. I could feel my roots sinking deep into the earth, the dry taste of the soil and the moisture trapped far below. The trees swayed with every breeze, the leaves catching the wind like tiny sails. I felt every one of the metal insects and rats and squirrels scrabbling over my bark. I felt each restricted breath of the prisoners trapped in the roots, the heat of their bodies, the feeble strain of muscle against wood.

I felt Lena struggling to rise, tasted her blood and sweat. With a movement as natural as shrugging a shoulder, I twisted the roots beneath Deifilia. She stumbled, but it wasn't enough to stop her from thrusting her dagger.