The men vanish behind the increasingly thickening smoke. I use the opportunity to crawl toward Amir and Tuleen, their ash-coated faces white with fear above their gags. I’ve nearly reached Tuleen’s side when a ball of shadow shatters the bookshelves. Her eyes widen, and she frantically shakes her head. Something wraps my waist from behind and yanks me backward. I slam into Prince Balior’s chest.
“Enough of this,” he snaps, and a long steel dagger materializes inside the darkness pooling in his outstretched palm.
I stare at the dagger. My brother leans against the wall, his arms positioned at awkward angles, one of his shoulders having been wrenched from its socket in his attempts to unknot his bonds. Tuleen, meanwhile, glares at Prince Balior with utter loathing. Whatever fear sent her cowering against the ground, it has hardened, become something obdurate, uncompromising.
“Where did you get that blade?” Notus asks. He stares at the hilt in mystification: cut gemstones, tarnished steel.
“I conjured it from the realm of the gods.” He slips the edge beneath my jaw, pressing it to the pulse point in my neck. I flinch from the metal’s icy kiss. “Now you see how serious I am. With a god-touched weapon, I can kill you myself if I have to, but I am giving you the opportunity to end your existence on your own terms. Refuse me, and your precious love dies.”
I clench my teeth, fighting tears. The agony carving open the back of my skull has become unbearable. I feel close to passing out. “Why are you doing this?” I hiss to the prince. “Why not leave Ammara as you came? Return to Um Salim and let us rebuild what was lost.”
“I do intend to rebuild, Sarai.” He grazes the wound on the back of my head. I recoil with a soft cry. “But the land will be different now that the beast has been freed. With the power granted to me, I can rule Um Salim and extend our borders, share our prosperity with smaller developing nations. I can ensure our realm will never bow to a greater force.”
“You fool.” The South Wind’s voice is pure thunder. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? The beast will rain fire over your realm, and all others beyond it.”
Prince Balior gazes at him blandly. “I’m not concerned with your opinion of me, Notus. I’m aware of what the beast is capable of. I’m aware of the revenge it seeks. And I can’t risk you driving your god-touched sword into its heart once it returns to its humanoid state.”
Because Prince Balior’s power is dependent on the beast’s life, I realize. Though not a god itself, the beast is descended from a divine bull. Vulnerable to god-touched weapons.
As the prince drags the dagger point along my collarbone, he says, “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Your life, or Sarai’s. Choose.”
The South Wind is frozen. A muffled cry bursts from Amir’s mouth. He crawls forward on his knees, but a whip of shadow unfurls, snapping his head sideways. The sight surges through me. My struggles grow more violent. The prince spits out an oath. The tips of his fingers dip deep into the place where my neck and shoulder meet, forcing me still. I’m panting, wild-eyed with despair.
“I won’t ask again,” Prince Balior says.
The South Wind considers his adversary. It matters not that he is a superior swordsman. The prince has the upper hand. “I will agree to the bargain,” Notus replies. “On one condition. I do not wish to die by my own scimitar, for it has been a friend to me these long centuries. I will trade my sword for your dagger, and with it I will take my life in exchange for hers.”
I stare at him, mouth agape.
Prince Balior is equally taken aback, judging by the silence that follows. But he is a man of greed. He wants what he wants. “I accept.”
“Notus,no.” My voice breaks.
He glances at me, eyes incredibly sad. My lungs twist onto themselves, rendering me breathless. Smoke lies as a dense veil between us. Why does it feel like he is already gone?
“Try anything,” Prince Balior warns, “and I will snap her neck.”
“Wait!” I renew my struggles. Prince Balior drives his fingers deeper into my shoulder, forcing me still, the shadow a subtle tightening around my waist. “This isn’t the answer. Notus,please, just… think about what you’re doing.” Higher and higher my panic mounts. There must be another way. A loophole. But I am powerless in this moment, little more than an animal pacing its cage. “It can’t be undone.”
He bows his head in surrender. “If the choice is between your life and mine,” he says, “then it is no choice at all. I would gladly give my life for yours, Sarai.”
As the South Wind offers his sword hilt first, the prince’s dagger floats through the air and into his outstretched palm. Notus stares at it, the dull shine of its blade, the sharpened point. He looks to me. I understand, then, the decision he has made. I clench my teeth, trembling, tears already sliding down my face. “Don’t go,” I whisper.
“Forgive me,” Notus says, and plunges the dagger into his heart.
There is a scream.
It is a shrill, splintered sound, drawn from the blackest depths of grief. On it goes, and on. I don’t realize I’m the one responsible until the strain in my throat forces it closed, cutting off the shriek.
Blood pours forth, sopping the South Wind’s robes. A hard exhalation punches out of him, wet and torn. His spine folds forward, like the toppling of a great stone tower. I lunge, catching him before he hits the ground.
Prince Balior peers down at the fallen god dispassionately. He then looks to Amir. “Tell Notus’ brother the beast is coming for him.” He oozes into shadow and is gone.
My heart feels like it will tear free of my chest as I lower Notus onto the floor, the rug already soaked with blood. He will leave me. He does not wish to go, but I must watch him vanish regardless.
A low curse briefly draws my attention from Notus. Tuleen shakes her arms free of the rope, having managed to pick the knot. After freeing Amir, she stumbles over to me, wrenching the gag from her mouth. “How can I help?”
Through his labored breathing, the South Wind stares at me. There is a glaze to his dark eyes, which have begun to lose focus.
