“Forever,” he promised with a smile so sweet it made vomit churn in my stomach.
I dared a single glance at the gathered gentry and high gentry fae—and whipped my head forward again when I met the loathing eyes of my father. Bastard. “What do you need from me?” I asked the king. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
He’d already mentioned magic, so it seemed Khalid was right. That wasn’t surprising, but it was odd that my sneering cousin had helped me.
“I’ve heard of your power,” Bakshi said, the friendly expression not fitting the greedy gleam in his brown eyes or the way he leaned forward. Eager, restless. “Falael has told me many stories of its capabilities. I’d like a demonstration.”
“A—” I stared at him. Froze. “A demonstration? Of my killing magic?”
Bakshi rested his hands on his knee, watching me. “Do you have any other magic I should know about?”
My brow furrowed before I could stop it. “Fae can only possess one kind of magic.” No matter that Naila somehow had two. “I only have death, and I can’t demonstrate it without killing anyone.” My mouth was dry. “I won’t kill anyone else.”
But I wondered if word had reached him of the battle over the Red Star last month. I wondered if he heard that my magic swept out in a dark wave and killed every enemy wyvern in the sky. And ifhe’dgiven the orders for those wyverns to be there… yes, he’d want to see my magic. He’d want to know what he was up against, what stood between him and his wyverns attacking our home again.
“Rest your conscience, daughter,” he said, lifting a hand gleaming with a dozen different rings, summoning a member of the clergy on my right. The man who rose and strode across the chequered floor was two feet taller than me, and as thin as a rake, but there was something about his narrow face, his long nose, and his small eyes that reminded me of my father. Notthe way he looked, but the way he lookedat me.“Javed has volunteered for this honour.”
The honour… of me killing him? Yeah, I bet he volunteered. I’m sure the royal decree issued had nothing to do with it. I scanned the man’s face as he came closer to the golden star I stood upon, searching for a glimmer of fear. There was nothing except the flat expression that made all my alarm bells ring.
“What honour?” I breathed, even though I knew.
“He understands what will happen when you touch him with your bare hand.” Bakshi nodded, his amber eyes encouraging, sympathetic. “This will help keep our empire safe, Ameirah. I understand your reluctance, but this power you hold could save us all. We need touseit.”
I swallowed. Glanced at the dark clergy seated in the curved row of seats beneath the gilded dome. Looked for salvation among the gentry and wished I hadn’t. My father sat in one of the end seats despite the rank he bought himself by marrying me to Varidian. Rank, it appeared, did not buy him popularity.
Closer to the throne, to the king, sat an unwelcome face—Xiu. Beautiful and cold and judging as usual. Rare, so rare for a female gentry to rise to the council, and yet there she sat, watching me like a sand cat eyeing a hare as its next meal. She certainly worked quickly, to go from my handmaiden to a council member in a matter of months. If I hadn’t loathed her, I would have been impressed.
Beside her sat a man whose face I’d never been able to forget, who haunted my nightmares. Kaazhim, the man who was with my father in his office the day Shahzia died. The day I killed her and the clergyman they were meeting with. My stomach clenched, and I was held captive under his stare. He looked the same, down to his clean shaven, too smooth face, the smile that lit up eyes the colour of baked earth, and the king’s ransom of jewels on his wrists and neck. There was a delight and eagernesshe tried to hide, like he was as excited to see the display of my power as the king. As a child, I thought he seemed friendly, nice. As an adult, I saw through that veneer to the greedy truth.
I’d hate to disappoint them both—along with Kamaal, because there was no way I could play along with this—but there would be no show tonight.
“Remove your gloves and clasp hands with Javed,” Bakshi said, startling me.
My heart beat so loud, it filled my ears, the whoosh of blood so loud I barely heard my own voice. “I can’t.”
My hands trembled, sweating inside my gloves. Icouldn’ttake them off. I couldn’t add another face to my nightmares.
“I’m sorry,” I rasped, my eyes on the floor. “I can’t.”
The words seemed to pulse through the room, from the shining floor beneath me to the silver dome above our heads, then echo along the curved seats, through the vivid gentry and the monochrome clergy, and to the throne of the king.
“I can’t kill anyone else,” I breathed.Killing in defence of my home was one thing, but a sacrifice holding out his hand for the touch of death… No. I wouldn’t.
“You can’t,” King Bakshi repeated, leaning back in his throne and looking… pleased?
I shook my head, my breathing faster. A sense of danger heightened my senses until my clothes scratched my skin, my hair itched my face, and I couldn’t stand the sound of his voice when he asked, “Do you defy your king?”
I opened my mouth—and struggled for words. “I can’t kill anyone else. I can’t do it, I’m sor—”
“Yes or no.” His voice was a whipcrack and I flinched. “Do you defy your king?”
My mouth was so dry it hurt to swallow, and every instinct I had screamed at me torun.But I was surrounded by enemies,by predators, and I wouldn’t make it to the doors. Not unless I killed my way out and that thought was intolerable.
My voice was barely above a whisper.
“Yes.”
CHAPTER 17
