The next door was unbarred, and when he burst through it, the world narrowed. Shackled in the centre of the pyre was Aisha. A motionless figure amid smoke, eyes pressed closed, surrounded by a ring of flames. They hadn’t reached her yet, but they were nauseatingly close.
Zahvik, Jamil, and his mother stood off to one side with some of the guards. Every head turned in his direction when he entered.
Kaidon skidded to a stop beside Tariq, taking in the scene. ‘Gods above.’
Adrenaline surged through Tariq. ‘You!’ He pointed at the guards. ‘Put out the flames!’
The guards hesitated at first, but when Kaidon roared, ‘Obey your king!’ they leapt into action.
The fire crackled, climbing higher. Tariq sprinted forwards, eyes locked on Aisha.
‘Wait!’ Kaidon shouted.
But there was no time. Heat swallowed Tariq as he leapt over the fire, his cloak brushing the blaze. The scent of scorched fabric followed as he landed hard atop the wooden platform. It groaned beneath his weight. Shackles clinked as Aisha startled, her eyes snapping open. She stared at him as though she was trying to figure out if he was real or not. He moved behind her, wrestling with the metal, fingers fumbling with the locking mechanism.
‘Shit,’ he hissed. The cuffs were already heating up, and smoke blurred his vision as pails of water were thrown over the flames.
‘Leave,’ Aisha pleaded, her voice hoarse. ‘Before you die here with me.’
‘Not a chance.’
With a final twist, one of the shackles snapped free. He dropped to a crouch to attack the chain around her feet. It burst open and clattered against the wood. Tariq scooped her into his arms, shielding her with his body as he looked for the best exit.
‘This way,’ Kaidon shouted. The guards had managed to extinguish a small section of the fire.
The heat clawed at Tariq’s back as he made his way towards Kaidon. ‘Cover your face,’ he told her. Then he leapt, hitting the ground below with a grunt and twisting to cushion her from the impact.
Kaidon doused Aisha with water, cursing the entire time.
Still cradling Aisha in his arms, Tariq looked her over. ‘Are you burned?’
She shook her head, dazed. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Keep working!’ Kaidon shouted at the guards as he pressed a water flask into Tariq’s hand.
Tariq lifted it to Aisha’s mouth. ‘Drink,’ he told her.
She did, tears spilling from her red-rimmed eyes as she swallowed. ‘They’ll hate you for this,’ she said when he lowered the flask.
‘Yes, but that’s not for you to worry about.’
His emotions were all over the place. Part of him wanted to cradle her forever, and the other part wanted to place her on the filthy floor and walk away. He couldn’t bear her death, but what was the alternative? A life locked in the tower? Or banished to the countryside, perhaps? Her mere existence would serve as a permanent reminder of everything she had done and all he had lost.
Footsteps approached, led by Zahvik. Smoke swirled in his wake.
‘You have offended the gods,’ Zahvik said.
Tariq slowly stood, lowering Aisha’s feet to the ground while keeping her pressed against him. ‘And you have offended me and this court by collaborating behind my back.’ His glare flicked to his mother, who at least had the decency to look guilty.
‘She is a covenweaver,’ Farrah said. ‘We had no choice.’
‘You have no proof of that,’ Tariq replied. ‘You should have been first to object.’
She raised her chin. ‘I was trying to spare you further pain.’
‘Liar,’ Tariq said. ‘You wanted to make yourself feel better and appease him.’ He set his gaze on Zahvik. ‘Well, that stops today. Pack your things, gather your men, and get out of Gruisea. You’re no longer welcome here.’
Nothing changed on Zahvik’s face. He simply tutted. ‘The devil has hold of your soul. The woman you defend is both a covenweaver and a murderer.’
