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THE BLACK TEMPEST

Their counterattack had taken less than three seconds.
Malcolm felt a series of shifts as the High Protectors each
opened their nexus. He heard shouts of outrage and the clatter
of weapons. The twins spun, preparing for an epic ‹ght.
They turned to see Asha running at them. Her robe £apped
in the wind, revealing shiny new Ember Guard armor to com-
plement her new qamas. As she reached the twins, she whirled
around and skidded to a halt with weapons drawn, placing them
at her back.
“They only want to defend their home! Wouldn’t you?”
Looking over her shoulder, Asha caught Malcolm’s eye
and glanced down at her own weapons. He furrowed his brow
in confusion. She repeated the pattern with her eyes, growing
more insistent.
Then he understood. There was only one play that would
get them out of the throne room without a battle. And every
second they delayed brought the Frost Hammer closer to victory.
“Follow my lead,” he whispered to Valentine.
Before he could talk himself out of it, Malcolm threw his
arms around Asha, tore the qamas from her hands . . . and then
held them at her throat. As he channeled Time into the weapons,
they blazed red, and the air around them sizzled and popped.
The queen leapt from her chair, shouting a command that
halted the High Protectors in their tracks. She stared murder at
the twins, but he saw terror in her eyes and felt a stab of guilt.
The king wore a di¢erent expression. Sunken back against
his throne, he beheld the twins with awe, terror, shock, and
something like realization. The curious array of emotions puz-
zled Malcolm, but he had no chance to dwell on it.
Valentine caught on quickly. “Don’t follow us, or else!”
She threw up her hands and her corona became a swirl of

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