He nods. “Yes.”
For a moment, I feel a strange, bone-deep sense of loss for the aqueduct, for Ro and Sura, whose existence was so heartbreakingly fleeting and free. But we both knew what would happen once we left the cave. Life was going to resume... reality was going to crash down... as surely as the sun was going to rise.
We dash through the crowds, making our way to the lift as quickly as we can.
Clenching my fists, I stand quietly on the platform as we rise to the surface—until the sound of a pained scream pierces the silence.
The scene at the top is horrific. Several dead bodies litter the ground, including those of the soldiers who had been on duty and what looks like several mercenaries. Two rough-looking armed men are still standing, one over the runecaster clutching his chest that has a sword protruding from it and one on horseback. The pieces of jadu fall from his hand as the merc kicks him off his blade.
I glance up at Roshan, whose eyes are slitted with rage.
One of the men looks right at us and I freeze.
“Don’t make a sound,” Roshan whispers into my ear, and I realize belatedly that they can’t see us because of Aran’s illusion.
He tenses, and the next thing I know, he’s leaped across the platform, slashing the closest man with a silent swipe of his dagger. He whirls, and sparks fly as their blades collide, though Roshan is at a disadvantage with his shorter weapon. My lungs squeeze as he levels a savage right hook to the man’s stomach, making him double over, and before he can recover, the prince grabs him by the scruff of his neck and smashes his knee upward into his head.
The second man climbs off his horse and swings his sword wildly—a jadu sword that is more than capable of killing Roshan—anger rippling across his face. The rune etched at the base of the fuller is air, and a frisson of worry takes hold. Air is the most temperamental element for jadu. I once forged a sword with that rune that split in half from the sheer pressure of the charged element.
I charge forward, unsheathing my dagger as I run. “Roshan, look out!”
But it’s too late. I’m too slow. The blade kisses the prince’s neck.
The man leers at me as Roshan goes still. “You! Don’t fucking move, or I’ll slit his throat.”
At the threat, my vision narrows to a haze of red, and visceral heat spikes through my veins. My palms feel like they are on fire as a tsunami of wild, fractious energy crashes over me. Roshan’s gazecollides into mine, and I can see my own alarm reflected in it as he glances down to my hands. I don’t need to look to know they’re glowing and ready to do damage. Weeks of practice, and my magic has never felt this white-hot. Thisangry.
“What the fuck are you?” the mercenary snarls.
Your death, my simurgh snarls.
Roshan takes advantage of the man’s distraction with an elbow to his gut, followed by a vicious fist into his temple, and the man slumps to the ground. I fight to control the white light arcing between my fingers and stare dumbly at Roshan when he snatches the horse’s bridle and turns toward me.
“Hurry, Suraya. More will come!”
His urgency snaps me out of the shaking haze of rage. I glance around, and sure enough, a dust cloud rises in the distance, indicating more riders. I clench my fists together, trying to control the visceral tingling of my palms and the sparking light.
Calm, breathe, calm.
I swing up onto the saddle, and Roshan mounts behind me, clamping me into place between his thighs. His arms surround me, the side of his chin grazing my temple as his fingers grasp the reins. With a grunt, he urges the stallion into motion.
“They’re getting closer,” I shout, leaning to peer over my shoulder and around Roshan’s side. Relief fills me as they ride completely past the hidden platform, but it doesn’t last when I see the glint of weapons. “They’re going to shoot us!”
We are still in their range.
As my eyes scan the sands for a way out, the shadows around us seem to move, pouring across the surface like a pool of inky darkness toward the dozen men riding hell-for-leather toward us. I look down at my hands in confusion. Is thismymagic? But my skin looks normal now, the power subsided. And I don’t control the shadows, only starlight...
But something about that shimmering darkness and the sinuous way it unfolds strikes me as oddly familiar. I can feel the immense power of it breaking like an unforgiving wave of viscous ink over our pursuers, the echo of a vengeful satisfaction invading my mind.
I shake my head and tear my gaze away as I’m jolted in the saddle, Roshan urging the horse to go faster.
“Keep your head down,” he says, his breath gusting against my ear.
The stallion whinnies as we race across the dunes away from the outcropping.
“Hold on,” Roshan says.
“I am.” I hold my breath, too, as he gives the horse its head and it runs into a full gallop. If we fall, we’ll break our necks.
