“What?”
“I think you’re right. This gate is only accessible to those from that world, who bear its blood. I might not be able to go with you.”
“Kamaal could. Kaazhim and his henchmen too.”
His mouth twitched into an almost-smile. “I’ve always wanted henchmen myself. I’d use them to muck out Buchra’s stall—” His smile fell. His throat shifted with a swallow.
I didn’t know what to say, had no words to soften the loss, so I just rested my hand on his shoulder.
After a moment, he cleared his throat and patted my hand before he pushed it off his shoulder. “I’m fine.”
“I never said you weren’t. When this is over,” I added carefully, “we’ll honour her properly.”
Nabil nodded, silently walking across the cavernous room beside me, peering at the cracked mirror, the intimidating windows, and that impossible waterfall on the other side of the bright crystal glass.
“I could,” I began, voicing an idea I’d secretly contemplated these weeks at the fortress. “I could write the story of her battle. Make sure everyone knows that she fought to keep Daurith safe.”
How many had made it out between that initial attack, and the king’s second sacking of the sacred city? Everyone that survived was because of Buchra, because she gave her life for the wyvernlings and children who lived there.
Nabil was quiet for so long, I was sure I’d overstepped. We reached the base of the golden stairs, with the giant windows looming over us—windows into another world. “There are other battles, other times she fought to defend Ithanys. Lives she saved, hours spent protecting the wall. I’ll help you compile the stories.”
“We’ll make sure every library has a copy, so there’s no one that doesn’t know her name.”
Nabil smiled sadly. “She’d love that.” He laughed, rusty and raw. “She thrived on attention and praise. She—”
The door clattered open behind us, startling us both. Nabil drew the sword from his back, and I took his cue, sliding the dagger Kamaal gave me from its sheath. The handle was made of red metal carved all over with prayers for courage and strength, and if it was anything like Silverstorm’s other relics, it would literally deliver on those promises.
“Who is that?” I whisper-hissed to Nabil as two people strode into the room. I realised why the door had clattered rather than creaking on its old hinges when I saw it slump to the floor. They forced their way in. I was glad I’d drawn my dagger.
“Two of the Torn Island leaders,” Nabil said with a confused mix of suspicion and rage. “Kanuri and Amuq’ran.”
CHAPTER 47
AMEIRAH
“Aren’t they our allies?” I hissed, watching the two leaders cross the room.
“They were,” Nabil replied, “until we didn’t kill the Silver Rider for them. We broke a deal.”
And broken deals were sacrilege on the Torn Isle.
I sized up the man and woman, a single glance at the bearded, sixty-something man telling me he was a warrior with decades of experience. The woman was twenty years younger, but she moved with a lethal grace that made me glad Aliah and Shula had spent the past three weeks reinforcing my training. I didn’t have years of experience like these two, but I knew the basics.
And where combat failed, I had deathfyre.
“I’ll take the woman,” I said out of the corner of my mouth, sucking in a slow breath and releasing my tension on the exhale, the way Aliah trained me.
“Bad idea. She’s the worst of the two,” Nabil replied, colder with every word.
“Good thing I have deathfyre then,” I said, and called across the room, “This isn’t an open-invite party, I’m afraid.”
Nothing.
“Where are the others?” Nabil asked when they didn’t respond, merely came towards us at an alarmingly fast pace. A minute—or less—and they’d be right in front of us, and something told me they hadn’t come to lend their moral support in breaking the gate.
It was the woman who replied, her voice every bit as beautiful as the way she moved, though just as sharp. “Emmahin has fled to join our enemy.”
Nabil and I exchanged a wide-eyed glance.
