For a long time, she gave no indication she’d heard me. Then she reached into her quiver for an arrow and set its feather aflame. She placed it atop Lord Xina’s helmet, watching it burn.
Together we watched the ashes rise, curling up into the clouds.
When there was nothing but embers left, she finally stood. Her eyes were dark, as if smoke clung to them.
“Tomorrow,” she said through her teeth, “I will kill myfather.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The shansen did not come at dawn.
He had the cruelty to make us wait until dusk, when our toes had frozen in our boots, and frost rusted our weapons as well as our spirits.
The air smelled of gunpowder and snow. Of despair.
Finally, as the sun disappeared into the river, a pearl sinking back into the watery depths of its home, we heard a rumble of thunder: the shansen’s army was coming. Their footsteps made the city walls shudder, and soon they surrounded us like a snake that had coiled around its prey.
The shansen arrived last, with Gyiu’rak at his side. A familiar emerald cloak rippled from her shoulders.
Lord Xina’s, I recognized after a tense beat. How wrong it looked on Gyiu’rak’s broad tiger frame, the crisply dyed wool like a trophy over her white fur. The demon had also claimed his gauntlets and shield, with his family’s crest emblazoned in scarlet lacquer. She flaunted them for all to see.
I darted a quick glance at Lady Sarnai. Her jaw was tight, knuckles whitening as they gripped her reins. What could be going through her mind, seeing her lover’s armor on the demon who brought about his death?
She let out a cry, and her horse charged for the shansen. As her soldiers followed, I stayed.
I had my own plan.
Edan’s arm brushed against mine, the red thread I’d tied around his wrist peeking out of his sleeve.
“Watch over my brother,” I said, “and Lady Sarnai. She cannot defeat the shansen alone.”
“Maia…” Edan reached for my hand. The red thread on his wrist glowed, as did mine. Careful not to hurt him, I curled my clawed fingers against his, sliding each one into place between his. Wishing this moment could last forever.
Wrapping his arms around my waist, I kissed him to silence his protests. In the middle of battle, it was a foolish thing to do, but I didn’t care.
“I love you,” I said, tilting my head close to his.
Then I let him go—and burst into the sky, the dress of the blood of stars folding over me in layers of twilight and stardust.
My amulet thrummed in my ears, a silent song only I could hear. My scissors used to hum to me this way, beckoning me to use them. It hadn’t occurred to me until now that maybe the scissors had been sent to prepare me for this very moment. To show me how to trust the magic singing inside me, to turn my burgeoning darkness into light.
With a spark, my amulet flared to life.
The two powers within me—my demon darkness and the light of Amana—clashed, their battle visible in the bursts of light dazzling from my dress as it clung to my skin, the silk stitching itself into my flesh to protect me from darkness. To save me.
My skirts swelled as full as the moon above, lifting me high above the ground and gliding toward the clouds.
What I saw from above confirmed my worst fear. We were losing badly. Already, our dead were piled high. We would never take the Spring Palace.
At the center of the battle, Lady Sarnai struggled against her father. She was no match for his demon’s strength.
Seize his amulet,I urged her, sending the message in a plume of smoke that took the shape of a bird and flittered off toward the shansen’s daughter.
Meanwhile, Gyiu’rak was prowling the battlefield.
If I could disrupt the link that was channeling her power to the shansen, Lady Sarnai might stand a chance.
Drawing a sharp lungful of air, I threw myself at Gyiu’rak and knocked her down. My skirts swept against her powerful legs, burning her with their touch. Smoke curled from her wounds, blistering against the backdrop of falling snow.
