Well done, Maia,Bandur purred.But it is just the beginning. Will you put more innocent lives at risk? Or have you learned your lesson? Will you face your fate at last?
“I’ll come to Lapzur,” I whispered. My throat burned. Everything tasted of ashes. Of doom. “I’ll come to Lapzur, but on my terms.”
My voice hardened. “I’ll be there before the next full moon. I’ll not come before I see Edan.”
A claw of fire bit into the inn’s roof, and I stifled a scream as tiles smashed down onto the ground.
You have nerve, to bargain with a demon.
“You want your freedom, don’t you? Then let me relish the last of mine.”
You do not seem to understand that it isyouwho are thedanger. The longer you stay away from the isles, the more harm you will bring to those you love.
He laughed.I will give you two weeks. Bring the enchanter if you wish, but I won’t promise he will be safe on Lapzur. If you do not arrive by sundown, no one you love will be safe anywhere.
“I’ll be there.”
No sooner did the promise leave my lips than rain poured down in sheets. Steam rose from the inn’s walls, a sudden wind chasing away the smoke. As fast as it had come alive, the fire began to die.
The villagers fell to their knees, thanking the gods. I watched from afar as they took in the stranded guests and gave them shelter.
No one had died in the fire, yet guilt writhed in my chest.
Whatever consequences I’d have to face for agreeing to go to Lapzur were worth it. I’d never been so relieved to see rain. I couldn’t help but feel it was washing away the blood on my hands.
Ammi found me, hiding in the shadows.
“How are they?” I asked. “The mother and the child.”
“They’ll live. Thanks to you.” She knelt beside me. “You told me you’d be more of a danger than help to A’landi if you stayed in the Winter Palace. Is this what you meant by it?”
“Yes,” I whispered. My pulse pushed into my throat. “We should part here. I’ll only get worse. The fire, I think I started it because I was angry—” I stopped. How to explain it to her? I didn’t know where to begin.
“I’ve noticed your eyes,” she said. “They burn red sometimes. It frightened me at first, but I know you, Master Tamarin.Maia.This isn’t you.”
This isn’t me.That was what I’d been telling myself all this time. But soon itwouldbe me. Soon I wouldn’t be able to hide from myself any longer.
“Ammi, I…” I wanted to tell her what was happening to me. She’d already guessed and come close, but still, I held back the truth.
She seemed to understand. “I’m not going to leave you. Whatever is happening to you, it is against your will.”
My mouth tasted bitter. “I don’t think even Edan can help me now.”
“He can,” Ammi insisted. “Keep your faith. If you can’t, then I will for you.”
I said nothing. I couldn’t even thank her.
“We should go now.” She lowered her voice, which quivered when she spoke, “People saw your carpet, and those two men—the ones with the Northern accents—they’ve started asking everyone questions about you.”
I went still, remembering the two who’d commented on the fire earlier. So they were the shansen’s men.
“You’d be safer without me,” I told Ammi.
“I can’t go back to the palace.” She was afraid; I could hear it in the unsteadiness of her words. But she lifted her chin bravely. “Maybe I would be safer, but you wouldn’t be. This isn’t a fight you win alone, Maia. Until you’re reunited with the Lord Enchanter, I will take care of you.”
“Then, let’s go.” The carpet had returned to me, and I unrolled it, holding it up. It juddered and shook before it finally lifted, hovering just above the rain accumulating at my ankles.
But as Ammi jumped onto the carpet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d be safer here, that I should insist that she stay.
