I want to know what the fuck he’s doing here. We need to question him.
And if he’s a traitor…
Thenyou can roast him.
A rumble moved through Mak’s chest as he tucked his wings in, falling like a star from the sky with his full attention on the jade wyvern.
When we landed, meeting the rocky ground so fast that a yell of reproach blasted from my chest—and Mak vibrated with laughter—Burhan was already stumbling away from the jade wyvern. The glare on his face was familiar from a hundred training sessions, and I couldn’t deny that this felt wrong as both legions landed on the rocks, surrounding him from the rocky path to the ridge that jutted out from the closest mountain. He was supposed to be one of us, not on the other side of a dark war.
He had no wings, not like the creatures we saw in the swarm over Torn Isle. But as I dismounted and stalked closer, Ameirah reaching my side so quickly she must have run, my heart missed a beat when I got a better look at Burhan’s face. His eyes were black from edge to edge, and dark veins spilled down his cheeks.
“What the hell are we doing?” Ameirah hissed, glancing up when Shula fell in on her right, Nabil and Zaarib beside me. My brother’s legion approached from the other side, enclosing the man who I’d trusted just this morning. I even wrote to him to ask for his assistance when I sent letters to all the commanders I knew.
“Questioning him,” I replied, giving my wife and mate a once-over and finding only confusion edged with determination.
“We’re miles from Shyra,” she pointed out. “This will slow us down. And mean we lose that dark legion.”
“Heleadsthat dark legion,” I said quietly. “And once, he led Zaarib and I.”
Her eyes widened, then turned hard. “And now his eyes are black and he flies with the Zalaam wyverns.” She brushed her gloved hand over mine. “If you can’t do what needs to be done, I will.”
The thought put a lump in my throat, but I nodded. This wasn’t the Burhan I knew, even if that was his face and even the way he moved was familiar. Every movement had purpose and power, even with his eyes pitch black and corruption visible on his face.
“Varidian, Zaarib,” he greeted when we came within two meters of each other, stopping as if an invisible demarcation line cut through the rocky ground between us. So he knew who we were and was capable of rational thought.
“Strange company you keep,” I remarked, barely able to crush the rage out of my voice. “Where are you flying to?”
Burhan smiled, lips tugged back to show teeth too thin and plentiful. The sharp, needle teeth of a fish. “I don’t answer to legion commanders who I outrank.”
If he took orders from the king, he might think his actions were on behalf of Ithanys. “King Bakshi is dead,” I told him, my voice as flat as I could muster. “Did you hear?”
His smile remained. “I heard. But we answer to no king, only the queen and church.”
“Thechurch,”Zaarib hissed, jerking forward a step. I caught the back of his jacket, digging my fingers into the leather. “You mean the zealots who mass-slaughtered innocents at Wyfell? Who burned Strava and collapsed the mines at Tourlestyn? Is that your fucking church?”
Burhan was unmoved. “You can’t see the bigger picture, boy. Everything has happened as it was meant to happen. There have been tragic losses, but soon, there will be greatness and liberation.”
“From who?” Ameirah’s voice went through me like a lightning charge. I had to press my mouth flat, had to swallow down words. As terrified as I was that she drew his attention instead of staying quiet, safe, I wouldn’t repeat mistakes. My wife wasn’t a woman to be sent away, and if fear was the price I had to pay to keep her with me, I would choke down my gut reaction and bear that fear. “Liberate usfrom who?”
“Not who. What.” Burhan considered her, his stare probing deep enough that I growled. Behind us, every wyvern in our legion echoed the warning. Not just Mak and Raheema—everyone. “There is an imbalance in Ithanys. For too long, warriors have fought for gentry who cloister themselves in their glittering cities, sheltered from the slaughter. Who dictate who can and cannot bond a wyvern, leaving most of the poor and non-gentry defenceless.”
“So you decided to bring the slaughter tothem?”
“Our queen and church will share power witheveryone.We will be equal, each one of us valued—”
“Power,” Ameirah scoffed, throaty and raw. “I’m tired of hearing men speak of the power they crave.”
Movement drew my eye to the mountain, to Habiba descending carefully on wing and claw, not exactly conspicuous with her wine-red scales.
“The king was desperate for power, too,” Ameirah said, stalking forward two steps. I released Zaarib, the bond gripping my chest and dragging me after her, as if I wouldn’t have followed her without the compulsion. “He had my mother killed for it, had me conceived for it—all in his great pursuit ofpower.”
Her sneer was a thing of beauty, the hatred in her voice powerful in its own right. I didn’t look away from her, even if I was aware that Kamaal’s legion drew closer.
“You’re attempting to herd me closer to the wyvern descending the mountain face,” Burhan remarked, his black eyes light with amusement. “There’s no tactic or strategy that I don’t know.”
And that was an issue. If the queen had filled her ranks of commanders—and he had to be a commander, to lack the dark wings Ameirah saw illustrated in the journal—with military officers possessing clever minds and decades of experience, there would be no way to out-manoeuvre them.
I flicked a signal to Aliah, and Habiba launched off the mountain face, aiming claws, talons, and teeth at my old training officer. Instead of drawing a sword or racing for his wyvern, he reached into a pocket and withdrew something small and metallic.
