His sword—not the obsidian dagger that dangled from his belt. Yet I didn’t have time to fully process this—one of the men was speaking.
“This is them?” he said.
The man regarding us nodded. With a start, I recognized him as the burly guard who had initially spotted us. “Where’s the boy?”
“Got away from us. We’ll find him.”
“You’re making a mistake,” Lusha interjected. “We’re not witches.”
“Witches?” The burly man’s brow furrowed. He glanced at the others, as if for an explanation. “What’s this?”
“Search me,” said one of the guards holding Lusha. He was middle-aged with a vague sort of frown that put me in mind of Norbu. His hair, like many of those we had passed in the streets, was dyed the color of blueberries in deference to the latest style. “We have our orders. He doesn’t want to be kept waiting.”
“No.” A look of trepidation passed over the burly man’s face. As if to conceal it from the others, he added in a light voice, “That’s the nobility for you.”
“Where are you taking us?” I demanded. The men were half marching, half dragging us down the still-shadowed street. The man with the sword followed, but he held it almost lazily.
“Sorry about this,” he said, when I glanced over my shoulder. “But you did run off before.”
“Isn’t that what most people do when they’re being followed by armed guards?” I snapped.
The man frowned. “Only if they’ve got something to hide, in my experience.”
I felt a wave of desperation. No doubt we were being taken to some dank prison to be held for interrogation, just as the general had threatened. Obtaining an audience with the emperor would now be impossible. And Tem—where was Tem? I sent out a silent prayer to the spirits that he had escaped, though I doubted they would be in the mood to heed me after tonight.
The soldiers led us through narrow lanes and alleys, seeming to wish to avoid attention. Being unfamiliar with the city, I was startled when the road opened, revealing the palace hill. Were the guards taking us to the emperor’s dungeons?
I swallowed a hysterical laugh. Well, at least we would succeed in gaining entrance to the palace.
Even as the palace loomed larger, it was impossible to believe it was our destination. Grand white staircases led up to tiered walls of apartments, courtyards, storehouses, and who knew what else—the palace had the appearance of multiple grand mansions stuck together, but the effect was not haphazard. It was of overwhelming luxury. We moved past homes of increasingly stately mien, and then we were ascending.
The guards led us up a smaller stair, from which fewer lights gleamed. Behind us, the Three Cities lay scattered over the hills like a child’s discarded toys, and beyond the towers were glimpses of the lake, starlight glancing off its smooth surface. My breath caught at the sight of that endless stretch of water. The guards chatted among themselves, and I found myself wondering at their ease—was this how they behaved around all captured witches? Or had Elin left that detail out? My stomach felt twisted and strange. The palace was all blunt, towering opulence. Gazing at it, I found myself wondering how I had thought the Three Cities could be overthrown, or even threatened. Then I recalled everything I had seen of the witches’ powers. I thought of an army with those same powers, and of mighty walls incapable of holding out the darkness.
The door at the top of the staircase was manned by palace guards, recognizable by the emperor’s symbol, the mountain poppy, emblazoned across their armor. They swung the doors open for us without question, as if we had been expected. One tossed a ribald remark at the burly man, who replied with good-humored dismissiveness.
Our captors led us through what appeared to be servants’ passages, narrow with low ceilings, though still adorned with evidence of wealth—a richly woven tapestry here, a well-fed palace dragon there, scampering through an open doorway. At this early hour, the place was quiet—the few servants we passed mostly ignored us. And then, before I even had time to take in my surroundings, or the fact that I had passed unchallenged into the emperor’s palace, the guards were ushering us along a loftier series of window-lined corridors, through enormous doors of carved oak inlaid with jade, and into an apartment of impossible luxury lit by several of the fattest dragons I had ever seen.
The room was expansive and high-ceilinged, the far wall lined with glass windows, the floor scattered with costly wool rugs. Another intricately carved door, slightly ajar, led perhaps to private chambers, or perhaps a series of beautiful receiving rooms like this one. I blinked, not quite taking it in, as I turned my gaze to the exquisitely dressed nobleman who stood before us.
“Hello, Kamzin,” River said. “What kept you?”
Twenty-Four
“THANK YOU, DAREN—I’M sorry my friends gave you so much trouble,” River said.
“No matter, dyonpo,” the man replied. “We don’t have much opportunity for exercise in the Three Cities.”
The other guards smiled, though they seemed less at ease in River’s presence, their posture stiff and their eyes lowered respectfully.
“Why would you?” River said. “There’s no safer place than the heart of the Empire. Send word when you find the boy.”
The guard nodded, and they bowed themselves out, leaving us alone with River.
I felt as if I were falling. For a long moment, we simply stared at each other. Was I dreaming? I saw River in the Ashes, covered in blood—dying. Yet here he was, looking handsome, clean, and polished, dressed in an expensive silk tunic of dark crimson. His boots were glossy and of the paper-thin style favored in the Three Cities. He was the very image of the young nobleman I had met at the banquet in Azmiri, though he had not bothered to turn his hair blue again. Then the shadows at his feet stirred, and it was as if I were seeing two versions of him, one overlaying the other.
He wore a slight smile, his hands in his pockets. Absurdly, I remembered that I had rice in my hair.
My heart was pounding, and I was filled with a strange, painful relief that twisted in my chest. I had taken an involuntary step forward, and I forced myself back. A thousand questions sprung to my lips. Instead, I found myself saying, “I thought you were dead.”
His gaze turned inward. “So did Esha. He never would have left me on that mountain, otherwise.”
“But the dagger was obsidian,” I said. “The stories say that even a scratch will kill a witch. But you’re here.”
“I’m here,” he said. “If you’re asking for an explanation, I’m afraid I don’t have one.”
“Those guards were yours,” I breathed. “You had them watching for us. Why—how did you know—”
“You told me where you were going,” he said. “You do know that Azar-at can read your thoughts? You don’t need to announce every spell you cast—though I suppose it’s like you to do everything as dramatically as possible.”
I couldn’t focus. River was here. River was alive. It was too much.
“You want the star,” Lusha said. Her expression was unreadable. She hadn’t drawn her dagger, but her posture was wary, ready to fight or flee. “That’s why you followed us. That’s why you posted guards to watch for us.”
“I want to keep the star from Esha,” River said. “That’s the beginning and end of my interest in it.”
“You expect us to believe that?”
River let out an exasperated breath. “The star was Esha’s plan. I’m not following his plan anymore. I have my own.”
“He’s your brother,” Lusha said. “How can we—”
“He will try to kill me,” River said, “the first chance he gets. He almost succeeded in the Ashes. He believes I have a power that I don’t, and he’ll stop at nothing to take it from me. He killed my brother. And you believe I’m still on his side?”
River’s voice was cold. Lusha didn’t flinch, but some of the wariness left her face.
“I don’t know what I believe,” she said. “But I know you saved K
amzin’s life. For that, I thank you.”
Now it was River’s turn to gaze at Lusha in disbelief.
“You don’t need to thank me,” he said finally. “We’re not all like Esha.”
“I’m not convinced of that.” Lusha folded her arms. Her gaze, as she regarded him, was cold—but not fearful. With her imperious posture and disapproving frown, she didn’t seem out of place surrounded by such luxury, despite the fact that her chuba was torn, her boots muddied, and her hair disheveled. “I’m thanking you for what you did in the Ashes—no more, and no less.”
He turned to me. “I take it from your surprise at my survival that you haven’t had any more . . . visions.”
“No.” I felt that uncomfortable sense of displacement. “Have you?”
He smiled. I didn’t think I would ever get used to how quickly his moods shifted. “No. I’m glad it worked.”
“What?”
“Once I realized Azar-at was the cause of all this, I focused on closing my mind. I’ve done it before, when I didn’t wish to communicate with him. I wasn’t certain it would be effective for this.”
“That sounds useful.” How many times had I wished I could block the creature’s voice from my thoughts?
“I don’t think it severs our connection,” he said, glancing away from me. “I don’t know how to do that.”
I flushed, wondering again what he had seen when he had shared my thoughts. “Why are you here?”
“It’s simple. I can’t defeat Esha alone. So I will help the emperor do it. I know how Esha thinks, and I know what he’s capable of. The emperor sees me as his friend, and will listen to my advice. So for now, I’m here.”
“For now,” I repeated. “And that’s supposed to convince us to trust you?”
He shook his head slightly. “You use that word often. I’ve never asked you to trust me. But you can trust that I want Esha dead. He thinks himself a leader, but he destroys everything he touches. He’ll destroy his own people eventually, if he isn’t stopped.” His voice was eerily flat.
Lusha’s hand went to her pocket, where she had carried the star since our escape from the soldiers. “Then he still plans to attack the Three Cities.”
“I’m sure of it,” River said. “Nothing will dissuade him, especially now that the star is here.”
Lusha set her jaw. “We’re not giving you the star.”
River gazed at her. She glared back, wan but determined. Lusha knew as well as I did that if River wanted to take the star, he could. I remembered how easily he had overcome us in the Ashes.
“Fine,” he said. “You can hold on to it. There’s little danger that Esha will attack soon. I suspect they’re regrouping—the attacks on the villages have stopped.”
“Stopped?” I was weak with relief. Did that mean Azmiri was safe?
“The nearest villages have been sending daily reports,” River said. “Suddenly, it’s quiet—losing the star was a blow. Esha was already struggling. Some witches have fled rather than answer to him, and more will follow, if they decide that their emperor is weak. I know Esha—he’ll need time to come up with a new plot.”
River turned to me. “Where were you, anyway? I’ve had the guards on the lookout since my return yesterday. I was starting to worry that Esha had found you.”
I opened my mouth to reply—to tell River about Azar-at’s trickery, and our capture by the Fifth Army. Then I stopped, confused. After all that had happened, it was alarming how easily I found myself falling back into trusting him, into accepting the rightness of his presence. Yet we couldn’t trust River—could we?
I thought of the guards River had posted to watch for us and bring us safely to the palace. I thought of him saving my life in the Ashes, the odd expression he had worn when he had laid eyes on me again—as if he couldn’t quite believe I was real, but wanted to. His expression was similar now, his familiar, mismatched eyes holding nothing more sinister than curiosity.
Did trust have to be complete to be real? Was it possible to feel for someone only a glimmer of trust, an ember rather than a flame? I looked at Lusha. She shook her head slightly, raising her eyebrows in an expression that was a perfect mirror of what I felt. My palm tingled, a memory of the power that had briefly surged through his—my—hand. For a moment, I felt a strange sense of loss—I would never see the world through River’s eyes again.
Hesitantly, I described our journey from the forest, including our capture by the Fifth Army. River showed no reaction when I described the powers Tem had revealed. As I spoke, there came a slight sound. River’s gaze fixed on something behind me, and I realized the door had opened.
“Here he is,” said the guard. His hand rested firmly on Tem’s shoulder.
“Tem!” I surged forward, wrapping him in a hug. Distantly, I heard River dismiss the guard, the door closing. Tem seemed dazed.
“Are you all right?” I said. I placed a hand on either side of his face, searching his eyes.
He brushed me away. “Fine. But I don’t—” His gaze fell on River.
“There,” River said with a dismissive gesture. “I’ve found your shaman, Kamzin. I only hope he was more successful at hiding his identity from the guards than he was from the Fifth—”
That was all he got out before suddenly, he was flying through the air.
Flying backward, hitting one of the windows so hard it cracked, and falling to the ground. The dragons snorted with alarm and sailed through the half-open inner door.
“Tem, stop,” I shouted, lunging forward and grabbing his arm. He was holding the kinnika, his hand already going for the witch bell.
“Is that it?” River was behind us suddenly, brushing shards of glass from his sleeves. His eyes shifted from Tem to the witch bell. “I wouldn’t recommend that one, personally. You might only be a half blood, Tem, but you’ll still end up with a nasty headache. You’ve felt it, I’m sure. Did you still refuse to accept the truth, afterward?”
At that, Tem’s face grew darker than I’d ever seen it. Tossing the kinnika aside, he lifted his hand, and the floor split apart.
I stumbled and fell as roots—roots—tore through the stone floor. Lusha staggered back and tripped over a chair. A window shattered, and I threw up my arms instinctively. The roots swarmed toward River, who made a sound that was somewhere between dismay and annoyance. He shook a few roots from his ankles, then turned with an exasperated curse and simply walked up the wall behind him, casting aside a basic law of nature like an overwarm cloak.
Tem faltered briefly before throwing his hand up again. A vicious wind cascaded through the broken window, sweeping me off my feet. I ducked as a table soared past my head—it struck the wall with an earsplitting crash. But River was already gone, changing into an owl and soaring through the air. He settled calmly on one of the dragon perches and gazed at Tem as if to say, Well?
“Tem,” I said, coughing. The air was choked with dust. “River isn’t—”
But Tem gave no sign of hearing me. He gave no sign of being aware of anything, apart from River. Slowly, he lifted his hand again.
The perch burst into flame.
Hungry fire spread down the stone wall as if it were made of paper. It was witch fire, dark and wrong, barely warm against my skin despite its ferocity. River made a sharp sound, not exasperated anymore, and vanished. A few feathers floated to the ground. As I watched in horror, the fire spread to a chair—and then the rug I was crouched on.
“Stop,” I shouted. I was on my feet again, sidestepping broken boards and lifeless roots. I snatched up the fallen kinnika and sounded the scorched bell as hard as I could.
Tem stumbled, his hands lifting to his ears. In that moment of hesitation, I grabbed him and pulled him to the ground. His head struck a root with a force that I felt through my hands, but I made no move to loosen my grip.
His eyes opened again and seemed, finally, to focus on me. “Kamzin—”
“Put it out.” The flames surged closer, and the air was
thick with smoke. Lusha had taken up the kinnika and was muttering an incantation, which seemed to be having no effect. “Now, Tem.”
He raised himself onto his hands, blinking hard. He took in the flames as if dazed. “I—I don’t know how.”
“You don’t know how? Do what you just did, but the opposite!”
“It’s not that easy. I—” He stopped, and a wave of weariness passed over his face. His eyes drifted briefly shut before snapping open again.
Lusha screamed. A tongue of flame surged toward her. But suddenly, River was there, dragging her out of the way. He dropped her unceremoniously on the ground. He made a gesture, and the towering flames consuming the furniture went out like snuffed candles. Plumes of smoke leaped hissing into the air, and the wall hangings cracked and fell in a shower of sparks.
I collapsed onto my side, choking on the smoke that flooded the room. River grabbed Tem by the shoulders and shoved him onto a chair. A shadow uncurled like a snake, sliding up the back and wrapping itself around Tem’s arms and chest. Tem sagged forward, but the shadow caught him before he fell, and held him there.
“Here,” River murmured in my ear. He had found a flask and was pressing it into my hand. I drank too fast, spilling water down my chin, desperate to clear the smoke from my throat. I leaned into River, my hand reaching out instinctively to grip the edge of his tunic. The faint smell of wildflowers tickled my nose.
When finally I stopped coughing, River helped me to my feet. Lusha was throwing open the remaining windows, flooding the room with fresh, clean air.
“You can let him go,” I said.
“Can I?” River gave Tem a cool look.
Tem was quiet, fixing River with a gaze that still held an echo of his former fury. He glanced at me, then nodded once.
The shadow uncoiled, and Tem fell forward. I was at his side in an instant.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. His face was drained of color.
“It’s all right.” I wrapped my arms around him. “We’re all right.” My own exhaustion, held back until now by nervous energy, swelled. Tem was here, none of us were about to be flung in a dungeon, and if River was right, we were safe from Esha—at least for now.
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