Recognition slams into me. This isAtoc’spriest, his loud shadow, master of vicious magic. Memories flood my mind. His many attempts to cross the magical bridge dividing the Illustrian keep from Atoc’s army. His use of torture and control to force our people to let him pass.
“This man is dangerous,” I say. “He’s capable of terrible magic.”
The priest shoots a quick look in my direction, and he seems almost amused. “So youhaveheard of me.”
“What do you want?” Kusi asks.
“Many, many things,” the man says. “But for now, the way to Paititi will serve. Which of you will give it to me?”
Kusi’s face turns mutinous.
The priest casts his eye around. “Pachamama has blessed me this night. I have an Illustrian royal and a handful of Illari warriors to join my army.” For the first time I notice a small leather pouch at his hip. “You’ve all been a nuisance, standing in my way, distracting me from my plans, but once you swallow the flower, you’ll become immortal.” He points toward Manuel. “You first, Illustrian.”
“It’s not meant to be consumed,” I say. “Can’t you see that you’re bringing death—”
“Your companions will eat the flower,” he says.
I gape at the priest. Horror pools deep in my belly, buzzes through my jaw and teeth, locks my knees. “No. Por favor.”
He scowls at me. “No? Do you know the way to Paititi, then?”
I shake my head. “I can’t even tell you where north is.”
“Pathetic.” He turns toward Kusi. “And you?”
“I will not,” Kusi says.
He snaps his fingers.
Kusi leaps forward but abruptly stops, clutching his throat. He’s immobile, his eyes growing wider and wider. He claws at his throat, opening and closing his mouth, unable to drag in air. One of the monsters carries a writhing Chaska toward the priest, unfazed by her kicking and clawing. Manuel holds up his machete, standing in front of me when another figure races forward, a blur of movement, his legs pumping furiously to save his brother in time.
Sonco.
I let out a smothered cry. Manuel sweeps his machete in a wide arc and lops off the head of one of the monsters. The decapitated body falls forward, but no blood spills from the gaping hole between its shoulder blades.
And then something grips me. I can’t move my hands or feet. Fingers won’t curl, knees won’t bend. My blood seems to freeze under my skin. I can’t even move my neck.
The priest stands in the middle of all of us, bodies frozen mid-movement. The only ones in motion are the monsters. Sonco’s dagger is inches from piercing the priest’s heart. He was so close: Another step forward and the weapon would have done its job. The priest stares at the Illari leader coldly and then rips the weapon out of his hands.
He drags the blade across Sonco’s neck.
We are all frozen, unable to cry out or rage. Sonco attempts to look in his brother’s direction, but he’s trapped in his statue-like state. The angry line at his throat waits to be free of magic, to widen and release the king’s lifeblood.
It’s too horrifying for words.
The priest lifts a finger. Whatever magic holds Sonco in place releases him, and he slumps forward, his eyes wide open, blood gushing from the gash.
I can’t see Kusi’s face—his body positioned away from mine, still clutching his throat, utterly trapped in the priest’s magic. Tears streak down my face.
The people of Paititi have just lost a good man.
The priest lifts another finger. The magic vanishes. I drop to the ground, shuddering. Everyone else follows.Thud, thud, thud.The monsters encircle us. Kusi stares in horror at his brother—his mouth formed into a silent scream.
“I hope you understand that fighting is futile.” The priest snaps at one of the creatures. “Pick up the girls.”
A monster yanks me by the hair, bringing me to my feet. I accidentally brush against its arm and I shiver. The body is bone white, cold to the touch. Dark eyes gaze at me, and its jaw closes with an audible snap. Curling brown-black hair falls to its shoulders. I keep staring, sure there’s something familiar about this face, and it takes me a while to finally understand that I recognize the monster.
Rumi. The vigilante.
