Lance of Earth and Sky (The Chaos Knight Book Two) by Erin Hoffman

the door.
    Moving sideways, Vidarian shoved the pup under one arm—another shock, but a weak one—and opened the door just a hand's-breadth with the other.
    A young man with nut-brown hair and eyes looked back at him, first hesitantly, then with mustering courage. “Are you Vidarian Rulorat?”
    “I am,” Vidarian said.
    The boy stepped into the room without invitation, and Vidarian was so surprised—and so intent on making sure he didn't stumble into the pup's spines—that he took a step backward and let him in before he quite realized it.
    Now you've done it, the Starhunter tsked.
    “My name is Farian Reyali,” the boy said, and a little chill sparked in Vidarian's heart. His oldest brother, lost to blood plague before Vidarian was born, had been named Farian. “Reyali” was almost familiar—a merchant family?
    “What can I do for you?” Vidarian said, trying to maneuver the boy back around to the door.
    “My father and grandfather belonged to the Court of Directors.” That explained the pain in his eyes, the barely controlled anger.
    “I'm very sorry,” Vidarian said. And he was.
    His father was three hundred and twenty-nine years old. Don't be.
    “I'm their only heir,” Farian said. “They've put me in the new Court. I suppose I should thank you.” This last he said bitterly, and looked away as he said it.
    The pup started to growl softly, and Vidarian turned again, placing himself between boy and animal. He summoned what little energy he had, and met Farian's gaze honestly, hoping to convince him of his regret, his own anguish. “If I could do anything to ease your pain, or make right the injury to your family, I would,” he said.
    For a moment, he thought he'd gotten through, that he'd be able to put the boy off to another time. But just as hope appeared, it fled, and Farian's face clouded over again with sorrow and rage.
    “When you opened that gate, you had no idea what you were unleashing on us,” he said, voice lifting with every word. “My family has lived and worked in the Imperial City for twelve generations. With my grandfathers gone, our guild secrets are gone with them! Some of those secrets kept people fed and clothed!”
    He's becoming tedious now.
    “Whether you think of it or not, people have died since the Opening, and more will die before long.”
    Honestly. Very bored.
    A cold sweat broke out across Vidarian's brow, which the boy interpreted as guilt and an invitation to sail into another diatribe.
    Sensing the Starhunter's impatience, but unable to cut through the boy's anger with reason, Vidarian tried entreaty instead. “Please—you should go—”
    “I will not go! I will not let you hide away under your cushions from the consequences of your actions—”
    Vidarian couldn't help himself. He launched forward and grabbed the boy by his shirtfront and hauled him close. “You genuinely,” he said, through clenched teeth and fist, “have no idea about the consequences of my actions.”
    Ding! Egg's done!
    Wait— Vidarian thought, then no! as he felt the Starhunter rush forward. He threw his own energy against her, holding her back.
    For half an instant it worked. His mind and body strained against the weight of her will, and his elemental self, a twisting column of angry, confused sea and fire energy, flared bright, stretching to its limits.
    Yes, that's amusing. Also pointless.
    Vidarian felt himself casually pushed to one side, an alien chill in the “hand” that moved him.
    Before Vidarian's eyes, the young man's face twisted from rage to surprise, then fear. He opened his mouth to scream, but it was too late. The Starhunter had opened up a void in the boy's chest, and first it seared him with star-fire, burning him from the inside out. His body became ash, which collapsed toward the floor—and vanished before it could mar the rich blue carpet.
    Vidarian staggered backward, covering his mouth out of reflex, sickened by what he'd just seen.
    Aaaah, the Starhunter