Shadows gathered at the hem of my skirts, slowly slinking into the folds of my dress. The laughter of the sun fought them off, flaring brighter than before, but my demon was strong. She knew how to play on my fears.
The dress of the sun won’t be enough,she whispered huskily.What can it do, blind the shansen’s army? You’ll need more to save your emperor from Gyiu’rak, but Amana will not heed your plea. I am here. The ghosts of Lapzur are at your command. By the power of the sun and moon and stars, they will obey us. They will decimate the shansen’s army. They will defeat his demon.
She was right; I did need her. But at what cost would she win this battle for me?
Deep inside, I already knew. Edan’s concerned face bubbled up in my memory. Baba’s and Keton’s too.
The cost was me—Maia.
I lowered my arms.No.I refused to twist Amana’s powers.
I tore at the dress, but it would not come off. My fingers fumbled for the scissors.
I cut and cut, ignoring the pain bursting inside me from my mutilating the wondrous creation I had labored over for so many months.
But I had created a living force, and as I stepped out of the dress, its broken seams began to come back together again.
I didn’t need Amana to help me. I had the laughter of the sun, the tears of the moon, and the blood of stars with me: three pieces of magic as old as the world itself. I just hadn’t known how to use them—until now.
Once more I activated the dagger and, biting my lip through the searing pain, with one, precise slash, I stabbed the dress of the sun in its fiery bodice, drawing the blade down, down to the edge of the skirts until I had ripped the gown in half. Then I threw the dress, the first of Amana’s legacy, into the sky.
Let the laughter of the sun aid my people,I prayed, watching it burn brighter and brighter.Let the power of Amana save them and bring hope for another day.
In a single burst of light, the dress exploded into the clouds and was no more.
Darkness swept across the Autumn Palace, silencing the arrows and the swords and the spears. As the weapons burned into ashes, the shansen hollered for his army to retreat.
My pendant knocked against my chest, sending a surge of agony rocking my mind from my heart, my heart from my body. Somewhere in the back of my consciousness or in the hollow chambers of my soul, I saw my own blood-red eyes gleaming at me amid a fury of smoke.
And I screamed.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Frost crusted my eyelashes, flecks of ice flaking off when I tried to open my eyes.
I am not dead.
My heart stuttered, still beating.
And I am not a demon.
My thoughts were mine. I was still Maia.
I sat up, relieved to recognize my own hands and arms, the tangled black hair brushing my cheeks.
Yet I felt different. Everything ached, a numb sort of pain, vestiges of the agony that had nearly killed me when I destroyed the dress of the sun. And my head…
Sentur’na…,a chorus of voices beckoned.
My heart throbbed, trying to fight off the calling.No, I’m not Sentur’na. I’m not a demon.
Sentur’na.
The voices rose up, growing stronger, gnawing hungrily at the hollow inside me.
A thick strip of bandages hugged my waist; it smelled fresh, lightly scented with ginger. My fingertips grazed my abdomen as I unwrapped it, and I winced.
My skin was scaled with white and gold bruises, so luminous and pearlescent they would have looked almost pretty if not for the stains of dried pus. The dress of the sun had hurt me, but unlike Lady Sarnai, its power couldn’t kill me. I was already healing.
