But my burning lungs force me to breathe—and Nimh still kneels there, poised and graceful. And unbroken.
Nimh’s gaze swings around and her eyes find mine, wide and flashing with sudden disbelief and wonder.
Then Inshara’s eyes flick to the side, and I realize what she’s looking at.
There’s something there, half-hidden by the crumbled terrace stones. It glints in the spellfire, and for a moment, no one moves.
The crown. The key to my home—the key to finding a way to destroy it.
Nimh told me once that the mist didn’t just bring madness and death—that sometimes, very, very rarely, it could bringgreat power.
Inshara has been deeply, deeply mist-touched.
As one, Nimh and Inshara both lunge for the crown. But Inshara is closer.
I move without thinking, trying to give Nimh a head start by grabbing at Inshara’s ankle, but she kicks, catching me in the jaw, and as my vision momentarily fills with stars, she’s gone.
Out of nowhere comes the cat, an orange streak of fury launching himself at Inshara with claws extended, raking them down Inshara’s body with an unearthly yowl. She screeches in reply and flings him away—he lands in a pile of rubble and doesn’t move.
We’ve bought Nimh enough time to grab the crown, but Inshara’s right behind her, and with a cry of effort, she gets a hand on the gold band as well.
Nimh’s on her knees, and she braces one foot against the ground as she hauls against Inshara’s grip—grappling, the two lurch to their feet. The mist around them swirls faster and faster, glowing so brightly I’m forced to shield my eyes as I look up at them.
“Give it to me,” Inshara screams, wild now, clawing at Nimh in desperation.
But before Nimh can reply, a burst of light erupts from the crown itself like a soundless explosion, sending a shock wave rippling through the mist and nearly knocking me flat again.
The cut on my cheek, I realize.She has my blood on her hand—
No.
I struggle back onto my knees in time to see a column of light surround the two of them. An invisible force begins drawing them both upward. Dust and bits of debris rise around them, as if the laws of gravity mean nothing at all. The golden crown hangs in the air above, glowing from a set of fingerprints against it—Nimh’s, painting the surface with my blood. Inshara strains to reach up for it, her fingertips just missing its surface. I find Nimh’s eyes as her toes leave the ground, hair drifting away from her shoulders like she’s suspended in water.
For the first time since she defended her divinity, Nimh’s eyes flash with panic as she sees me. She opens her mouth to shout, her lips forming my name, but no sound comes out—I cry out her name in response, and I see her eyes widen when she hears nothing.
I scramble to my feet and sprint for the two of them, throwing one arm up toward Nimh as she reaches down. Her fingers strain toward mine, and I rise up onto my toes, willing myself to find that tiniest bit of extra reach.
Our fingers come so close to touching that they eclipse the crown’s brilliance for an instant before a sunburst of white light peeks between them, then explodes against my half-blinded eyes.
And then all of it—Inshara, the column of gold light, the roiling mist, and Nimh … my Nimh … is gone.
THIRTY-FIVE
NORTH
The crown clatters to the ground, bouncing once and slowly rolling to a halt against my shoe as I stare at the place Nimh was just a moment before. Or rather, it was once a crown—now it’s twisted, melted into a dull mass of gold, scorched sky-steel circuitry exposed. The afterimage of Nimh, a silhouette of her reaching for me, is burned into my eyes, still glowing.
“No!” I grab what’s left of the crown and shake it, disbelieving. I touch my fingertips to my face, ignoring the stab of pain that runs down from my cheek, and smear the crown’s surface with my own blood.
Nothing.
“Take me to her, do it again!”
Techeki is walking forward, his face ashen. “It is ruined,” he manages to say. “Your blood will not help us now.”
“Do you know what Inshara can do to my world? Nobody believes in magic there. They wouldn’t have any idea how to defend themselves against a magician.”
Techeki gives a shiver. “Gods know what she is now. The mist has changed her into something else—I fear for your people and mine, cloudlander.”
