“Time’s in short supply just now, my lady.”

I’d really hate to survive this long only to have the Saghred slurp me up for dessert, but considering where we were—and who and what was out there—I had to agree with his suggestion to vacate the premises. But that didn’t mean I had to like what I had to do before we left.

“I’ll find a stick,” Piaras volunteered.

I sighed. “And I’ll poke the rock.”

He found one. Quicker than I wanted him to. Now it was my turn. Mychael offered to do it himself, but I couldn’t let him. This one was mine. I didn’t want it to be, but that wasn’t how things had turned out.

“There wouldn’t happen to be any elaborate containment spells or extra-strength incantations I could use, would there?” I asked anyone and everyone who might know.

Mychael answered. “There are, but none that have been particularly effective. Personal shields have been the most often used.” He turned to A’Zahra Nuru. “My lady, do you know of any?”

The primari was supporting a now half-conscious goblin prince. “I am sorry; I do not.”

Great. I wondered if the poor sots the Saghred had inhaled for breakfast, lunch, and dinner over the ages had used shields, or just thrown caution to the wind. I was willing to bet most had been cautious, like Sarad Nukpana—right before they had been consumed.

No spells. No incantations. Just me and mine, poking at a stone with cataclysmic power with a stick. If I was the Saghred, I would have been insulted. Hopefully it wouldn’t take any resentment out on me.

I turned the casket on its side; and wielding the long, forked stick like a rapier, made contact with the Saghred and pushed it neatly into the box. Point control was good for something. I closed the lid using the same maneuver. Power prickled up my arm, but other than that, the rock didn’t seem to mind the contact. I shuddered, blew out the air I’d been holding, and picked up the box. The beacon was in the Saghred with Sarad Nukpana. In theory since I no longer had the beacon, I should no longer feel a connection with the Saghred.

No such luck.

“I really hoped I’d be able to get rid of this.”

Mychael was looking at me funny. Not the good kind of funny. I looked down at myself. I wasn’t glowing or anything.

“What?” I asked.

“The bond is still there.”

He didn’t ask it as a question. I wish he had. He knew it as well as I did. Must have been kind of obvious somehow. The power the Saghred had offered me to destroy Sarad Nukpana was still there, inside me, waiting just below the surface. Waiting for what, I wasn’t really sure. Oh boy.

Mychael’s lips set in a grim line. “Is it trying to influence you?”

“No. At least not right now. It feels more like a big dog with very big teeth on a very short leash.” I grimaced. “A well-fed dog at the moment. Any idea how often it gets hungry?”

“Not a clue.”

“Not what I wanted to hear.”

His expression was unreadable. “We’ll be taking it back to Mid.”

That was good news, but I didn’t need the Saghred’s help to know his thoughts. That wasn’t all Mychael wanted to take back to Mid with him.

“I would like it very much if you would come with me,” he said.

I assumed since he asked nicely there wasn’t a trip over his shoulder in my immediate future. Good to know.

“Because the Saghred thinks I’m its new psychic roommate?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Think someone on Mid could help me serve the eviction notice?”

“Probably.”

I wanted to be rid of the Saghred, so that was a good reason to go to Mid, but it wasn’t quite good enough. Not anymore. I walked over to where Mychael was and looked up at him, a challenge in my eyes and a tiny smile on my lips. “Is there another reason you want me to come home with you?” I asked softly.

A corner of his mouth quirked upward. “One.”

“Does that reason have anything whatsoever to do with the Soul Thief?”

“Nothing,” he murmured.

My smile broadened. “Can you answer me with more than one word?”

His smile melted into that boyish grin. “Maybe later.”

Garadin cleared his throat. “Riston has boats waiting for us.”

Piaras started. “What about my grandmother?”

“Not to worry, my boy,” Garadin said. “She’s safe with Tam Nathrach.” He glanced at me. “Your primaru does good work.” He only sounded slightly begrudging.

“He knew where Nukpana was keeping your grandmother,” Mychael explained to Piaras. “We worked it out ahead of time that he would take a few Guardians, rescue her, and destroy Nukpana’s workroom so he couldn’t open any more Gates from Mermeia. Nukpana’s overworked his shamans for the past few days, so Tam didn’t encounter much resistance.”

The Ruins were quiet as we left. I don’t mean quiet as in serene. I mean silent in an unnatural and bad way. The only sounds we heard were the sounds we made, and I wasn’t the only one who didn’t like it. Blades were out. Crossbows were ready. I knew only too well you couldn’t rely on footsteps to announce some of The Ruins’ nasties. Too many of them didn’t have feet.

There was one thing everything living in The Ruins had in common—a need for and an addiction to all things magic. And it didn’t get more magical than the stone I carried clenched in my white-knuckled hands. If I could feel it through the casket, I knew that creatures, whose sole purpose in existing was the hunt for, capture of, and consumption of magic, were hot on our trail.

“Can we move faster?” I whispered to Mychael. The sound of my own voice was absurdly loud.

“What is it?”

“Company’s coming.”

The Guardian turned to where Chigaru was now walking unassisted. “Your Highness?”

“Yes?”

“Are you able to run, or do you require assistance?”

The goblin prince stiffened at the implication of help from anyone. “I can manage on my own.”

“Glad to hear it.” Mychael addressed everyone else. “Stay together, stay alert, but let’s pick up the pace.”

We did. And so did the things following us.

It was a race to the canal surrounding the island. And after what I’d been through over the past three days, it was a race I was not going to lose. Our exit point would still put us in the Goblin District, but if the Khrynsani guards’ reaction was any indicator, there wouldn’t be a welcoming committee. Or if there was, flashing the Saghred in their general direction should clear us a wide path. Unless someone had stepped in to fill Sarad Nukpana’s boots in the past few minutes, the former grand shaman seemed to be the only one of his order chomping at the bit to get his hands on the Saghred. Nukpana’s underlings were more enamored with the idea of having the Saghred than with actually having it in their collective face.

At least that’s what I was counting on.

It had occurred to me that I was carrying the most dangerous thing in The Ruins, which by association made me the most dangerous thing in The Ruins. It had occurred to me, but I was doing my best not to think about it. It wasn’t a distinction I wanted.

We actually got out of The Ruins without incident. I was nothing short of stunned. I kept expecting battle-armored Khrynsani or Mal’Salin guards to jump us at every turn, but it never happened. A pleasant surprise. I wondered if Sathrik Mal’Salin had any notion of what I had just done to his right-hand shaman. Would he care? I think he would. I was just lucky that way.

I made my decision before we even reached our borrowed gondolas.