I felt rather than saw its horrific flame gather and knew we’d soon be dead alongside Buchra on the ground. Mak, Nabil, and I would be taken out with a single breath of that dark fire.
Mak’s defiant roar was drowned out by another. No, byfiftywyverns screeching all at once. Piercing, harrowing cries that made me recoil. Dread sank like a stone in my soul. So, this was it. I would never see Ameirah again. Never again watch her eyes crinkle when she smiled. Never see the wicked smirk on her face as she casually threatened my life. Never feel the warmth of her in my arms. Never again feel safe the way I did inherarms.
“I love you,” I said into the wind and hoped she heard me.
And then Mak and I turned to face the horde at our backs.
More than fifty. So many more. Wings filled the entire sky, rain hammering them with no effect as they flew in five legions, each a deadly arrowhead we would break upon instantly.
I should have called for help from the other legions, should have confided everything that had happened in the few commanders I knew would never be corrupted. My inability to trust others had done this. Killed us. There should have been three legions to protect Daurith at least, but these were not ordinary times, and any legion of Ithanys could harbour those black-eyed wyverns, those traitors in black clothes who sought to turn us on each other.
Yet, if I’d dared to ask for help, the risk be damned, we might have survived this. We might not have been so outnumbered.
Habiba shrieked an urgent cry, and my heart knocked into my ribs, my hands trembling on Mak’s scales as Aliah rode for us like a streak of wine-red lightning through the storm. She flew like the wind itself, weaving through the clouds, carving space through the drumming rain to get to us. Habiba shrieked the same noise over and over, at first too distant, too quiet, and then loud enough that Mak jolted under me.
They’re not enemy wyverns,he communicated in a rush.Not enemies. Allies. The flag—they bear a flag.
I couldn’t breathe as I searched the legions, the formations that spelled our deaths and the ruin of Daurith and every child who lived there. In my panic, it took fraught moments to find the flag borne by a rider in salt-stained grey leathers. A white flag with a silver star in its centre, surrounded by rays of starlight.
The banner of the Torn Isle.
The legions hadn’t come to send us to our deaths; they’d come to defend Daurith.
I bowed over Mak’s neck and sobbed.
CHAPTER 4
AMEIRAH
Mihrunnisa was quick to forgive the offense I caused my first night in the capital. There wasn’t a hint of resentment or anger in her golden eyes. On the contrary, she gave me a sly smile and linked her elbows with mine as we walked through one of the palace’s three opulent riads, verdant plants framing benches carved with suns, moons, and stars, creating private spaces where friends and lovers gathered to share a quiet moment. I expected Mihrunnisa to lead me to one of these, but we crossed the purple mosaic floor, slippered feet whispering over the Saber wolf tiled in the heart of the garden and left the waxy leaves and delicate floral scents behind.
“Don’t look at it too closely, but I have a gift for you,” she murmured so her voice would only reach my ears.
“A gift?” I replied at the same volume, glancing pointedly at the silver gloves on my hands, the rich purple djellaba that hadbeen waiting for me when I returned from prayer this morning.“Anothergift?”
She waved a hand, leading me into a broad corridor. “Clothes don’t count. Besides, this is a functional gift, and you can never be too prepared given what happened in Tourlestyn last night.”
My lips pressed thin. Yes, Tourlestyn was the talk of the palace this morning. Finally, the acts of the dark clergy had reached the capital, but instead of panic and wariness, there was a buzzing air of gossip. Speculation. Were the clergy making a move against the king and gentry? Did they want to usurp them and rule Ithanys alone? It wouldn’t be the first time an attempt was made, but that was centuries ago.
This time, those dark soldiers who acted under the clergy emblem had rounded up the people of Tourlestyn and repeated the warning we were issued in Wyfell. The three-day storm had created a lightning soul, and we were all at risk. Turn in our neighbours, evict any newcomers, trust no one who was even remotely abnormal, etc, etc. No one had been executed on a stage, thankfully, but a fae steel mine and a nearby factory had been conspicuously burned to ruins on the same day.
“Well, put it on,” Mihrunnisa urged, a sly smile crossing her face that piqued my curiosity. She passed over a hammered silver bangle inlaid with green enamel with the same level of secrecy and discretion as payment for an illicit deal or a forged document. Amused, and a little touched by the gift and the acceptance it implied, I slid the bangle over my glove and admired the way it sat against the beaded fabric.
“There’s a catch on the bottom that will release spikes if you’re in danger and need to rip someone’s face off,” she told me with wicked glee.
I muffled a laugh, recognising where we were in the palace as our route carried us past the training rooms. Traumatised, my muscles flinched in remembered pain at the sight of the archeddoorway to that hall of endless bruises. Yesterday’s session ended with my legs shaking so hard I couldn’t stand, but I’d learned three new moves andalmostcaught Kamaal with the flat of my hand.
“How often do you need to rip someone’s face off?” I asked Mihrunnisa with a wry smile.
She grinned. “Daily. But I display a level of restraint befitting a princess and suppress the urge.”
“Very impressive of you.” I laughed, checking the bangle was secure on my wrist. The laugh wasn’t quite natural, the matching smile awkward like everything else felt awkward in a new city around new people. I wanted to go home, but until I had all the available information about those dark soldiers and the lightning soul, I wouldn’t leave the great library behind. Someone in this city must know something. Maybe even Mihrunnisa herself.
“Thank you for this. I’d pay you back, but my husband neglected to leave me any money, and I haven’t yet had time to rob the nearest storehouse.”
Mihrunnisa snickered, earning a sharp glance from a passing gentry man dressed in rich brown clothes, the hyena of house Fathi stitched across his chest. He went a little pale when he saw it was Mihrunnisa he’d silently berated, and quickly glanced away, making my smile sit more genuinely on my face. It was nice to see gentry arrogance break upon the granite cliffs of royal status.
“Where are we going?” I asked my sister-in-law when the man strode past us. I hadn’t cared to ask before now; I was just glad to be somewhere that wasn’t the four walls of my room, and relieved to not be alone. I should have been braver, but the furthest I’d travelled alone was to the training room, then the kitchens, and the library.
