“Sura?” Roshan asks, eyes finding mine.
My eyes brim anew. “Laleh’s dead.”
“I know, and I’m sorry,” Roshan says softly. “But she would want you to fight. Don’t give up now and let her death be for nothing.”
Javed laughs cruelly, his fingers winding into my hair. His blade kisses my torso, and I feel its cold bite through my clothes. “Sopredictable that you’ve come to retrieve your lost prize. You’re too late—she’s mine.”
Hearing Roshan’s soft words makes something warm flicker to life inside of me—a spark of sadness mixed with love and hope. I see Laleh’s face, her courage and her determination urging me to listen. Shecan’thave died for nothing. My beaten spirit rises to the fore, like a firebird from the ashes. The irony of the symbolism is not lost on me. As long as there’s breath in me, I have to fight. For my best friend. For myself. For everyone.
With a scream that comes from the depths of my soul, I hurl my elbow back with all the force I can muster, catching Javed in the ribs, and stomp on his instep. He curses, weakening his grip enough for me to twist out of his grasp. His blade whistles across my bodice, two pieces of silk falling in frozen panels to the floor. His blade is carved with an ice rune.
I snarl at the king, “I’ll never be yours, you fucking monster!”
I glance at Roshan, longing to throw myself into his arms, but I have other things to take care of—like the bitch of a death magi who still has my aunt. Roshan’s gaze meets mine, his lip curling into that half smile I adore as he mouths the wordgo. Heart full, I race up the steps to the parapet, where I’d seen Morvarid and Amma last.
Four guards stand outside the wooden door, but I dispatch them easily with a white-hot blast of my magic, feeling nothing as ash flakes from their skin. I hear chanting coming from the topmost tower room, and cautiously, I peer through the view hole. Amma is trussed and tied in the corner, and Morvarid is intoning something, holding up another shallow goblet. Four Fomalhaut magi in navy robes and hooded cowls surround her. The queen dips two fingers into the chalice to draw runes of rot on her skin, and my magic recoils at the unnatural nature of it. Is this what a death magi ritual looks like?
Exhaling a breath, I call my light forth and shove open the door.
“You,”Morvarid growls, and throws her neck back. “You can’t stop this. Even if my son cannot claim your power, the dark god will come and he will feast on your soul.”
I follow her stare, looking up. This tower has a skylight, and the moon is almost aligned in perfect eclipse position with a ring of constellations winking in the velvet darkness. A tiny sliver of a red crescent remains, growing smaller by the second, until it winks out and disappears. The tower shudders, and I don’t know if that’s from the eclipse or Roshan’s magicked earth blade below us.
“My lord Fero, come forth to claim my offering. The Starkeeper is yours.”
I’m rooted to the spot, gooseflesh rippling along my arms. There’s something foul in the air—a slick essence, slithering down on a carpet of darkness. Morvarid swallows the contents of her cup, teeth stained dark red, her body crumpling to the ground and shuddering in the throes of possession as the malevolent essence wraps around her. I stare in horror. The chanting of the four death magi grows louder. A ring of jadu lights up around them, and suddenly, the queen goes preternaturally still, her back frozen in mid-arch.
No one moves. No one breathes.
The tower groans and quakes again.
“Suraya.” The urgent whisper from my aunt drags me out of my petrified trance. Gathering my wits while the magi remain frozen by whatever ancient magic has them in its grip, I slip around the smoldering fire and untie Amma quickly.
Without stopping, we hurry down the stairs... to find Javed propped against the wall, his body motionless but for the shallow rise and fall of his chest. He and Roshan are not alone. A few Dahaka soldiers I recognize from Nyriell surround them.
“What are they doing here?” I blurt out. “Are they—”
“They’re loyal to me,” Roshan pants.
Since when? Doesn’t he mean loyal to Aran or to the commander? But I don’t bother to dwell on it as I nod my gratitude. If ithadbeen Aran I’d seen before in the square, they would have come to overthrow the king, but they’d ended up saving my father and his men from a massacre, and I’m grateful to them for that.
“We need to get out of here. The queen—she’s possessed or something.”
“Fero?” Roshan asks, rushing forward to help me with Amma.
“I don’t know, but whatever rites they’re practicing up there, it’s beyond anything natural,” I say. “We need to get all these men out.”
“What about Javed?” he asks, hooking a thumb at the unconscious king.
As much as I want to leave the prick, I shake my head. “Take him with us. He’s leverage, if we need it.”
Two men prop the king between their shoulders. Holding on to one another, we move as a unit toward the stairs.
“Wait,” I say, glancing to the upper parapet where the queen had slit my best friend’s throat. “I want to get Laleh. She doesn’t deserve to be left here.” I turn to Roshan. “Please.”
“Of course.”
His soft agreement is a balm, and I swallow past the lump in my throat. He takes my hand and we move to retrieve Laleh’s body—but even as we step forward, the tower starts to shake and crumble. I let out a whimper of frustration. She’ssoclose.
