She’s shouting, screaming, but not to save herself. “These children have no power. Let them live!”
I pull her to a stop, hardening my heart against the terror I’ve caused them.
“These children can’t hurt anyone,” she pleads, her eyes raised to mine as she continues searching, searching betweenthe bloodied strands of my hair, as if she’s desperate to read my thoughts. “Please. Let them live.”
On the floor behind her, Gallium and Tamra have reached for each other and are huddled together once more, their sobbing painful to hear.
“No power?” I narrow my eyes at them, reconsidering their hands.
Malak confessed to draining their power but…No.
There is a spark in both of their right hands. It’s a small spark, certainly, but it’s there.
Perhaps he didn’t take all of their power or perhaps, more dangerously, they’re already recovering from the ordeal.
My fear rises that one day they will regain their full power—not because it will allow them to challenge me, but because if the humans catch even a hint of it, they will lash out and kill these innocent children. The pain of the humans’ history will ensure it.
I take a deep breath, promising myself I will plan for that day and I will keep the twins alive despite it.
Even though I’m resolved, I question Asha’s assertion, because from now on, I must be careful about revealing what I already know.
“You are the children of Kalith and Ayla Silverspun,” I snarl. “Your parents were two of the most powerful Blacksmiths to stand at Malak’s side. How is it possible that your brother and sister are powerless?”
“My parents gave them as a gift to Malak,” she says, a painful hope rising in her eyes, and I suppose it’s because I’m listening to her. “He drained their power for his own purposes.”
“What ofyourpower?” I ask, wondering if she has any knowledge at all about how much power she wields—a power Malak said she isn’t aware of.
Her shoulders sink. “Malak didn’t want mine.”
Oh, but he did.
He craved Asha’s power.
“I sense your hatred now,” I say.
Anger flashes in her eyes. “Malak was a monster. So were my parents.”
“As am I!” I roar, needing her to believe it. “Do not forget it.”
I’m running out of time. I pull her toward me, hoping to make her believe that I will cut her power from her body, even though I came here without a knife.
Her left hand shoots forward, her palm landing flat against my bare chest.
Within my mind, I’m suddenly transported back to those fearless moments in the cabin when she rested her hand against my heart beneath a warm fur. The fine strands of her hair tickled my chin and my cheek. Her head fit perfectly in the crook of my neck.
Her scent, even now, speaks to me of peace.
I fold up the memories and put them away.
They are no help to me now.
Outside the castle, a cheer goes up, cries of jubilation coming closer. The humans will have seen the final bodies outside the castle walls.
Asha’s face falls and her heart thuds in my hearing. “Please,” she whispers. “Have mercy for these children.”
My father’s voice echoes back to me.“They will have no mercy for us.”
A roar tears from me. “You beg for mercy, but where was the mercy for my family?” My grip on her tightens. “When I fought to save my father’s life and my brother’s life, where was mercy then?”
