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Three more boom-stones exploded overhead. Tris flinched at each one; her hair began to rise and crackle. She tucked her hand into her pocket, and rubbed Aymery’s earring.
They had to distract Tris, before something else happened, thought Daja. “What if you tried your lightning on that?” She pointed to the heap of black powder that lay forgotten in the path.
Tris stared at it. “I–I don’t know,” she said, her voice trembling.
“Well?” Sandry nudged.
“What lightning?” Briar demanded, sarcastic. “She’s just got the worst case of Runog’s Fire I’ve ever seen, is all.”
Daja knew the pale fire that played on ship masts and tower roofs in storms as well as he did. “What she’s got is seed lightning,” she retorted. “It’s not the same. Show him, Tris.”
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