“Unfortunately, your promises aren’t worth very much anymore, myson.”
“Don’t hurt her.” The crowd titters, no doubt murmuring at my mortal weakness, my foolish human heart, but I ignore them all. “Your Majesty. I have never asked anything of you—”
“And you have no right to.” My mother raises an eyebrow. “Surely you aren’t deluded enough to believe you have the right to bargain with me, especially after your miserable failure in letting the heir to the mortal realm slip through your fingers?”
She’s right. I have no goodwill in this court. Nothing to give in exchange.
I hesitate only for a fraction of a second. “A covenant, then.”
A stillness falls across our court as soon as my words ringout.
“A covenant,” Sansiran repeats softly, but I sense intrigue in the way her tongue caresses the word. Beneath us, the mó are whispering. Said to derive from the same ancient magic of our realm that constitutes the bond between a mó and their offspring, a covenant is a binding agreement between two mó and can be invoked outside of familial relationships. So long as one side completes a bargain, the other is held to their service for eternity. It is a way for Higher Ones to gain loyalty of lesser mó: By sparing their lives through a covenant, the lesser mó are forced into a lifetime of servitude. Often, demons at war would rather die by their own sword than be forced into a covenant with their enemies.
The only requirement is that it must be given willingly.
My heart begins a drumroll. I stare at the monster who calls herself my mother, and suddenly any lingering hope, no matter how faint—for escape, for rebellion, for ways to subvert my mother’s plans—dissolves before my eyes. The world narrows into this hallway, the jeering crowd, and Sansiran leering at me from the dais.
An eternity of this—in exchange for Àn’ying’s life.
I hold my icy stare. “A covenant. Spare her life and ensure that no harm comes to her, and I pledge myself completely to you. No more disobedience, no more betrayals; my life would be yours to command.” I pause, then add, to seal it: “For as long as I live, I live to serve you.”
Sansiran’s ruby lips curve in the truest smile I have seen mymother display. “I accept,” she says, and sweeps down the dais, impossibly fast and elegant.“A covenant.”Magic trembles in the air as her words invoke this ancient rite.“With this covenant, I bind you, under the condition that I spare the life of the woman you love and protect her from harm.”Vines of red oleander bloom from her chest where her core rests, twining around her arms down to her palms as she speaks.“Should I fulfill my end of the covenant, hear your terms: So long as you live, you shall not use your magic to harm our kingdom. You shall not hurt me. You shall not disobey me. So long as you live, your life shall be mine to keep and mine to command. Do you accept?”
I stare at the flowers pulsing on her palm, the color so similar to the hue of my own magic.
Àn’ying’s face comes to me, through wisps of memories, and more often these days, through remnants of my dreams. In my dreams, she’s half-turned to me, sunlight limning the angles of her face, the shine of her braid, the curve of her lips. And I’m chasing her, chasing a life in which she might look at me and smile.
I extend my hand to my mother’s. Her cloying scent of blood and flowers chokes me as I say,“I accept.”
Ancient shadows and a whispering wind rise between us as soon as the words fall from my lips. Scorpion lilies blossom on my open palm, snaking toward the oleander, faster and faster, the two flowers twining around each other, encircling me and my mother in a blood-red light. I grit my teeth as the power of the bond burns into me, characters glowing like embers on my skin with all the vows I have made, all the conditions of my servitude burning, bleeding, into my bones.
Then it ends, as suddenly as it began. The ancient, bodiless voices fade. The shadows around us dissolve. And I’m kneelingbefore my mother at the dais of the Temple of Dawn, the court watching us in stunned silence.
The world settles again as if it never changed.
As though from very far away, I hear my mother speak: “Let us test it, shall we?” Sansiran holds out her hands to her council as if this is a show, and she receives the adequate roars of approval. “Let us see what happens when he uses his magic against me. Niefuzan, command him to harm me.”
Her second-in-command steps forward and utters a command:“Rise and draw your blade.”The power of his magic twines around me, suffocating and impossible to escape.
I do as he bids.
Niefuzan hesitates only a half second before he utters,“Cut the empress.”
I move forward, sword raised, compelled by the overwhelming power of his command.
A searing pain tears through my chest as the ancient bonds of my covenant knife into me. My sword hand shakes. Remains frozen in place.
“Cut the empress,”Niefuzan repeats, his magic pushing against me like an immutable wall, somehow stronger and more insistent than the last command.
I’ve taken one step forward before the covenant strikes again. Pain blazes through me, white-hot, like a thousand burning blades running through my bones. A red glow lights the hall as I fall to the floor. The taste of blood fills my mouth.
Slowly, it subsides. And this time, I do not have the strength to get up again. I lie there, drawing ragged breath after ragged breath, fighting the dark that crowds the corners of my vision. The cold marble floor beneath me is wet with the blood I coughed up; my robes are soaked with sweat.
Something sharp digs into my cheeks, shifts my face so that I am gazing up into my mother’s cruel beauty. Her nails dig into my flesh, hard enough to hurt but not enough to break skin.
“Good,” she says softly. “Very good.” Her fingers glide across my jaw in a cold caress as she lowers her lips to my ear. “Your life is worth more to me than this realm, now, for I have a new plan for you, my darling son.”
Then she thrusts my face back to the floor and straightens to address the court. Dimly, I hear her voice echoing in the throne room:
