“But she is free, and you are under oath.”
Edan blocked me with raised arms. “I am of more value to you, even under oath.”
“Are you, now, Edan?” Bandur taunted. His hollow eyes bored into me. “I can sense magic in her. It is still weak, but as you said earlier, she is nomeregirl.”
“Tell me what you want in exchange for releasing her, and I will do it—oath or not.”
“You know what I want, enchanter,” Bandur said harshly. “I grow tired of being a guardian. You will take my place.”
No!I wanted to shout.
But Edan nodded. Slowly. “Give me a year,” he said, “to return Maia safely to the palace and see that peace is established under Emperor Khanujin—”
“You have until the red sun, Edan,” Bandur interrupted. “Take the girl home, then return to the Isles of Lapzur before sunset. If you run from this debt, the consequences will be great. I will come for her and tear her apart, scattering her remains across Lake Paduan so she lives the rest of eternity broken. She will never leave the island.”
“I understand,” Edan said unflinchingly. “The red sun, then. Upon my honor and sigil as a lord enchanter, you have my word.”
“Fine,” Bandur rasped. If a demon could be giddy, he was so. His claws pierced the tree behind me. It withered, the bark graying and the leaves wilting brown into dust. “You have accepted. We are done.”
“We are done,” Edan echoed.
Bandur grasped his amulet and, along with his army of ghosts, vanished. The forest rustled again with life, and but for Vachir’s fallen men, it was as if Bandur’s shadow had never touched it.
My fever was gone, but I was shaking, rocking back and forth, hugging my arms to my chest.
“What did you do?” I whispered.
“Nothing I wasn’t prepared to,” he said. “Let’s go.”
I grabbed his sleeve. “Edan, you’re hurt,” I said, pointing at his wounds.
“Let’s deal with it later. I want to get out of this damned place first.”
Mutely, I nodded. We collected the horses and the trunks and set off for the Autumn Palace. My heart was heavy, and it only grew heavier as we rode, for Edan didn’t speak to me. Rain pattered down, slicking back his black hair. His eyes were normal now—blue as the sea. But he held his reins so tightly his knuckles were white.
“Bandur…was your teacher, wasn’t he?” I asked finally. “The one who became a demon.”
At first I thought he hadn’t heard me, he was so slow to reply. “Yes.”
I leaned over to touch Edan’s arm. My throat grew thick with emotion, and I swallowed. “How did he—”
“There are many types of demons, Maia. Some are born, or cursed. Not all begin as men or enchanters or even as animals. But guardians such as Bandur are among the strongest of demons and are always enchanters who have broken their oaths. Bandur killed the man he was sworn to serve—the man who owned his amulet. As punishment, he was forced to become the guardian of the Forgotten Isles for all eternity. Or until another took his place.”
“And now you will become the next guardian of the islands,” I whispered.
Edan gave a sad laugh at my horror. “Don’t worry yourself over it,xitara.” He kissed my cheek so softly I almost didn’t feel it. “I would far rather endure this fate than allow Bandur to possess your soul.”
A part of me shattered. My gut twisted and churned, and I couldn’t hold in my emotions. I reined in Opal and threw my arms around Edan’s neck. “You stupid man!” I cried. I held his cheeks and drew him close so our foreheads touched. “Promise me now we’ll find some way to fight this. Promise me you aren’t going to turn into a demon…like Bandur.”
Edan pushed me away gently. “I love you, Maia. My life has been long, so let me do something good for you. You will become the greatest tailor in A’landi, and you will find some lucky boy to marry—”
“I won’t.”
“Be sensible,” he said, squeezing my hands. “I cannot give you a future. You will forget me. I can make that happen.”
I jerked my hands away from him, stung. “Don’t you dare!” A sob wracked me, and my chest throbbed. Edan drew me to him and held me tight, kissing my cheek, then my neck.
“Don’t touch me,” I said, twisting out of his arms. I needed air. I needed to be away from Edan. “What about all your promises?” I couldn’t bring myself to speak—of the shop we’d open together by the ocean, of waking every morning to the sound of Edan’s laugh, of sewing to the song of his flute, of the towers of books strewn beside my looms and frames as I grew old with him. My mouth went dry, the loss of a dream I’d finally dared to hope for swelling in my throat.
