The prince turns to point the dagger at my throat, his eyes fastening on my outfit and dropping lower. “That way we both get to enjoy the secrets of my little bride.”
The horrific intent sends raw panic bolting through me even as one hand reaches for me. I struggle, but the guard’s grip on me is unrelenting. Javed’s breath ghosts over my ear and I lose it.
“Stop!” I scream as dread and helpless fury boil up—a firestorm coalescing in my chest that makes the air in my lungs contract and my breath hiss through my teeth. Just like in the arena with the azdaha and after the prince’s announcement right before the explosion, my body heats. But this time it’s much worse, saturating every cell, arching my spine, and searing my skin as a white-hot fever floods my veins, and I’m burning, burning,burning.
It feels... unnatural, like something monstrous straining to get out.
Toburstout.
Time slows, just like it had in the arena, and the staggering, portentous pressure in my chest intensifies. I gasp for air. A feeling that can only be described as something unfurling stretches inside of me... like a pair of fucking wings.
Fly, my little firebird.
The voice comes from nowhere and everywhere... and it’s so familiar, my knees nearly buckle.Mama?But then my mouth parts in a soundless scream as whatever monstrous winged creature is inside of me ignites, and suddenly, I can see it in my mind’s eye:
A firebird, just like the simurgh in mythology she so loved, made of something that resembles pure stardust. Its head shimmers between canine and human as it flexes its brilliant, multicolored birdlike body and undulates its enormous wings. I sense it connected to every inch of me, so gloriously powerful it takes my breath away.
Stars above, what is this? What... am I?
Every hair on my body stands on end as the simurgh studies my enemies through my eyes. Sharpened lion’s claws curl, wings snapping straight, as it delves into the well of my memory. I can feel it pondering the last few moments right before its energy begins to gather—a lightning bolt cracking across storm clouds. Raw power thunders through me, a feral, primal magic I can barely keep leashed. The beast in me wants vengeance. It’s thirsty forblood.
Everyone must die.
The guard holding me starts screaming. His shouts don’t last long as his body brightens and vaporizes to nothing but cinders. I gasp and look down at my arms. I’mglowing,the lines on my palms bright like incandescent, star-shaped constellations, the marks standing out in stark, bleached relief on my brown skin. Runic swirls in elaborate patterns climb my arms from wrists to elbows, and I feel an otherworldly force gather in my veins as if something suppressing me has finally been lifted.
Instinctively, I thrust my hands out, their silvery blaze almost blinding, and slam them into the guard restraining Roshan. Like the first, his body bursts and disintegrates into charred embers. A wide-eyed Roshan tumbles out of the way. I feel the power building again, and I don’t stop to think or to question—I’m operating in pure survival mode now.
The others are too far to touch, but that doesn’t deter the fiery simurgh stretching and beating its wings within me. My back bows, glowing ribbons spearing from my palms toward the middle of the room, where the remainder of the guards have surrounded the heir to the Oryndhr throne in a protective semicircle. Their bodies halt midmotion, shackled by the strange energy now pouring from me in gleaming, luminescent streams that would be beautiful if they weren’t so deadly.
Javed’s ice-blue gaze is pinned on me, his lips bared over his teeth. Anger, greed, and stark possession war in his eyes as his lips form words I don’t catch. Was this themagiche’d spoken of? It doesn’t feel like magic, it feels murderous, like something born in the pits of Droon. Something inhuman and hungry.
With a strangled gasp, I release my feeble control, watching in fascinated horror as the sizzling light slams the entire contingent into the far wall. No one rises, not even the prince caught in their midst. My entire body slumps as power and rage burn out like a weakened sandstorm, leaving me limp.
Oh sands, is the prince dead? Are theyalldead?
I stare down in dread at the smoke rising from Prince Javed’s head and nearly vomit at the smell of charred flesh. The palms at my sides tingle, and I snatch them to my chest. “I killed thecrown prince,” I whisper, terror seeping through my voice.
“He was going to hurt you,” Roshan says hoarsely. “You defended yourself.”
Trembling violently, I swallow hard and open my palms to him, the star-shaped marks there still faintly glowing, along with the mysterious symbols stamped across the ashen skin of my forearms. I meet Roshan’s eyes; fear and faint wonder are swirling in their depths. “Isthisthe Elonian prophecy you spoke of?” I whisper.
“I don’t know,” he says. “But I promise you, we will figure it out together.” Without any trepidation, he reaches for me, his thumbs stroking the now cool centers of both palms before squeezing gently. “For now, we run, and don’t look back.”
***
When we leave the palace grounds and enter the capital city, it’s like stepping into a nightmare. The once colorful houses and bustling streets are a blackened, crumbling landscape. Bodies litter the rubble-strewn streets, and I almost gag, tears springing to my eyes. So much death. Barely an hour ago, these people had been alive.
Had the Dahaka strike been so ruthless? My nose clogs as I force the tears back, my legs shaking with each body I cross. I follow Roshan in a daze through the smoking remains of the city. Tears tighten my throat as we weave through a half dozen more collapsing buildings and dead bodies, Imperial House soldiers and Dahaka alike. The loss is senseless.
Eventually, Roshan pauses and stoops, and I avert my gaze, retching helplessly as he drags two bodies to the side, one no bigger than a boy.
“What are you doing?”
“The carriage is just past that hill,” Roshan says, his voice low. “Put these on.”
I stare weakly at the bloodstained gear he’s peeled off the two dead soldiers and recoil, fresh nausea pooling in my belly. He sees my expression, and his mouth tightens.
“The Dahaka are still here. Our only chance of escape if we get caught is to pretend that we’re with them. Get changed. We don’t have much time.”
