“Already?” Nowthatdeep voice I recognize. Masišta.
“I told you she’s powerful,” the disguised voice says. “Even basilisk venom won’t stay long in her system. You are lucky she’s magically cuffed.”
Basilisk venom! Gods, is Laleh alive? The venom might not harm me, but it will definitely kill her. Footsteps approach and familiar green eyes assess me as she yanks the gag from my dry lips. “No worse for wear,” Raissa Tabiti pronounces, and I want to kick her in her teeth. So I do, jerking my legs out toward her. She ducks the strike and grins.
“Where’s Laleh?” I grit out. “What did you do with my friend?”
She ignores me. Dread pools in my stomach when Masišta joins her with a booming laugh. “The king will dismember you,” I snarl.
“The king is drunk and fucking my daughter,” he says smugly, and I suck in a breath. In our mental exchange, Darrius hadn’t sounded drunk or distracted; he’d sounded unhinged. “As it was supposed to be,” Masišta goes on.
“You need to hurry,” the other voice commands. “Then deliver her through the portal as agreed.”
Deliver me where? As agreed withwhom? With a wild lurch, I fling myself off the edge of the cart to identify the speaker, groaning at the bite of stone, and peer around the side past the dozens of Karkad and Rakh warriors surrounding us on horseback. But the only thing I see instead of who is speaking is empty space. My simurgh roars inside of me as if she knows someone is hidden there.
An illusion!
“You’re a dead magi, whoever you are,” I shout loudly.
“Who’s going to kill me, Oryndhrian? You?” Ghostly laughter echoes on the wind as the presence dissipates. I frown. Why did that soundsofamiliar?
I have no time to figure it out, recoiling in horror as Masišta approaches. I need to fight! I need to do something, anything! I struggle wildly, fighting against my bindings. Runes explode down my arms in a blinding explosion of light as my bracers flare, brutally suffocating my magic. My simurgh shrieks her fury at being so starsdamned powerless.
Tabiti crouches, a fingertip trailing over the iridescent runes on my arm. “Beautiful. Too bad. The oracle advised your magic would have been useful against the rot. But it’s not as valuable as azdaha eggs or hatchlings. Our clans will ride the winds.”
Whois this fucking oracle? Laleh had mentioned the same name before she’d been poisoned. Who had promised them such an impossible prize? Is it the owner of the other voice?
“You will never be worthy of them—azdahas choose their riders, they know their hearts,” I say, tears of impotent rage spilling from the corners of my eyes. Unwilling to give up, I focus on surreptitiously working my thumb through the knot at my wrist. “This oracle is lying to you!”
An unholy roar echoes across the space, rattling my bones as a furious crimson azdaha smashes into the circle of Karkad and Rakh warriors, scattering them like pins. I can feel the seething vengeance of the rider on her back and a wild, hysterical laugh bubbles up inside of me.
My king is here.
The next thing I see is body parts rolling across the dusty ground, one head with sightless eyes staring up at the sky, right before it is devoured in a vengeful storm of shadows. Boils and pustules cover another handful of men as Indira’s poison rains down. I could fucking weep with relief. My frantic attempts to loosen my bonds renew.
Shouts of the dying pierce the air as the remaining warriors desperately start to fight, ice and fire magic exploding. Darrius is a swirling vortex of shadows, magic blasting from him, even as he compels the men to turn on one another before dispatching them with his onyx blade.
Tabiti screams, a blazing fireball forming between her hands.
“Darrius, look out!” I yell as the knots securing my hands finally slacken and I tackle the ones on my feet.
Darrius dodges the missile and counters with a vicious ice blast. A deadly smile blooms as the darkness swarms around him, sucking in every point of natural light. His shadows promise death.
“You stole from me,” he says in a multilayered voice that makes my insides quail, even though it’s not directed at me.
“You do not know what is at stake,” the raissa snarls. “The rot spreads to our herds. We had no choice.”
“They don’t care about that, their price was hatchlings, Dare,” I say. “Azdaha babies. They’re in danger!”
Indira screams with rage and immediately takes to the skies after the king gives her a nod. She must warn the other azdahas and protect her own precious clutch.
“Who?” Darrius says coldly, but Tabiti only laughs.
“The oracle foretells a new god, and soon, your reign will be at an end.”
His lips curl. “So be it.”
With a howl, she rushes toward him, her body engulfed in flames. The king doesn’t hesitate. He disappears into a column of smoke, and I watch with rapt horror as it—he—pours down her throat until she’s gasping and clutching at her neck.
