"Your point?" Myles asked.
"I want to know why you're fighting for a country that shames you just for being born with a certain set of genitals, rather than for a culture that doesn't."
Myles had to think about it for a minute. She knew, deep down, that had Yastabul endured through the Changeling War twenty years ago, she would've gone there when she ran away. If it still existed, she might've turned her cloak even now.
Ikram probably would've had to convince her, but she would've done it.
But…
"Because that culture is dead," Myles said. "It can't survive here. Too many people hate it."
"Cultures rise and fall all the time."
"But you're not fighting for the Yastabulian culture," Myles said. "If you were, you'd be leading Yastabulian rebels rather than Tieraustrian soldiers."
Bahadur paused. He gave her a twisted smile. "True. I did try to rouse my countrymen, but pacifism is too deeply engrained. They want to reclaim their land and culture through non-violent means."
"And you don't," Myles finished.
"I don't care about the land," Bahadur said.
Myles frowned. "I thought Xeir created malaa'ika specifically to care for the land."
"I didn't know you were so well-versed in Yastabulian culture," Bahadur said over his tea. "Don't tell me there's a malaak within the Septimoan army."
"I'm a knight in service of the Empire of Septimos. You think I haven't traveled over your mountains and talked to a few Yastabulians?" Myles countered. The thought of revealing Ikram to this man filled her mouth with bile.
Bahadur hummed thoughtfully. "Since you're so well-versed, you probably know all about my family. The Hashems were one of the oldest noble families in Yastabul. I was lucky enough be born heir, and luckier still to fall in love with my spouse. But my love for her was nothing compared to the love I had for my son.
"When he was born, I promised him the world," he said with a soft smile. It quickly slipped away. "But this world is tainted. Foul. It was never worthy of being gifted to my boy. So instead, I'll burn it to the ground. That's more mercy than it deserves."
Myles's fingers itched for her sword. "You're mad," she said.
"Insanity is merely a matter of perspective," Bahadur said. "You're considered insane to any 'proper' Septimoan. In Yastabul, a third of our army was made of women."
"And yet, none of them wanted to destroy the world…"
"None with any backbone were in a position to do it," he replied. "Fortunately for me, I found a Tieraustrian noble family soon after the war ended and spied for them, slowly gaining influence and power through nothing but whispers. It took twenty years, but now a malaak has the full support of a king and his army. People have done a lot more with a lot less."
Bahadur smiled at her. "You will end up doing more than every army in this world put together."
Myles had no words for the amount of hatred and slime she felt at that. So she spat in his face.
The guard standing behind her smacked her with his gloved hand. Myles's brain rattled as Bahadur calmly wiped the spittle away. "I think that's enough excitement for the lady. Take her back to her room."
*~*~*
A week later, the Septimoan army was camped outside the castle.
Myles watched the soldiers dig their trenches, set up the tents, and build the catapults. She knew the castle had enough provisions to last six months, but there were pitifully few soldiers to defend it. If the Septimoans decided to attack, they could probably take the castle within a day and only lose a few hundred men.
Of course, Myles had been out of communication with the Septimoan army for a while now. With winter coming, the military might not be willing to spare the resources and manpower of an assault. They might want the Tieraustrians to come to them, luring the enemy farther north until winter got a hold of them. Much of Septimos's military success over the past few centuries were in thanks to winter.
Funny, for a country that worshipped the sun god and feared frozen hells.
The sun dipped beneath the western horizon, setting the far-away ocean on fire. The birds' shift was replaced by bats.
One of the bats landed on Myles's windowsill, inches from her elbow. She frowned at it. "What do you want?"
The bat chirped at her and flew into her room.
Myles sighed. If nothing else, watching the serving girls scream and run around like headless chickens when they noticed the bat would be entertaining.
Until the bat turned into Ikram.
Myles swore. She went to the door to make sure it was locked and no one was outside.
"What are you doing here?" she hissed.
Ikram ran up to her and kissed her. Myles froze, surprised, but quickly returned it, wrapping her arms around Ikram and holding on tight because damn if she hadn't missed this.
"I thought you were on a ship," Myles said once they broke apart.
"Novae Terrae's not going anywhere," Ikram said. "I'm getting you out of here."
"No," Myles said. "Bad idea."
"How is that in any way a bad idea?" Ikram demanded.
"Is there any way you can get me out of here without revealing that you're a malaak?"
"They're going to attack tomorrow, and that puts your life at risk," Ikram argued, which didn't answer her question. "Syed Bahadur's threatened to kill you."
"He won't because I'm his only hostage." Myles reasoned.
"Does he strike you as particularly sane?"
"No," she admitted. "But he's not stupid."
"Of course not. He's Yastabulian," Ikram grumbled.
Myles rubbed Ikram's arms. She looked exhausted, with darker smudges under her eyes and not as much meat on her bones as the last time they'd seen each other. "So they're attacking tomorrow? Do they have a dragon?"
"No, but Lord Aden's there, for all the good he'll do."
"He's all right, and you know it," Myles said, a teasing smile on her lips. "If I can get my hands on a dagger and a sword, I can make my own way out. To the courtyard, at least."
"No armor?" Ikram asked, sounding queasy.
"The sword will be plenty."
Ikram groaned. She dropped her head against Myles's chest. "It's not that I don't doubt your ability with a sword, but there's only so much death defiance I can take."
"Darling, I've been defying death, king, and country since I was ten. I'd go so far as I to say that I'm an expert."
"That doesn't mean I encourage it!"
"Shh!" Myles peaked at the door, but there were no footsteps or shouts of alarm. Nobody had heard them yet.
"I eavesdropped on the guards before I came," Ikram said. "They're all guarding the wall or trying to sleep in the barracks. Nobody's being spared to watch you. That's why I wanted to get you out now."
"It'll be easier to escape during the battle," Myles said. "They'll be distracted."
Ikram hummed in agreement.
Myles buried her nose in Ikram's hair. "Stay with me? For a while?"
Ikram smirked at her. "After you refused my gallant rescue? You're making it up to me."
*~*~*
Myles watched Ikram get dressed. It was past midnight; she needed the cover of night to get Myles the tools she'd need and escape back to the Septimoan camp.
"What's your true form?" Myles asked.
Ikram stopped, her back rigid.
Myles bit her cheek. "If I've overstepped my bounds…"
"No, it's not that," Ikram said. "But it is personal. It's… a malaak's true form is their naked self."
"So… I haven't seen you naked yet?" Myles asked dubiously.
Ikram smirked and began to change. Her hair went from dark brown to pale blue. Her skin darkened to ebony. She grew a couple of inches and gained a healthy thickness around her waist. Her eyes stayed the same mischievous brown.
Myles caught her breath, just gazing at Ikram.
"Now you have," Ikram said.
*~*~*
The trebuchets began
firing at dawn.
Myles ripped the bottom of her skirts to expose the knee (her father would've caned her) and tore off the hated corset. Then she waited until there was a decent hole in the castle wall before she used a thin fillet knife Ikram had swiped from the kitchen to break out of her room. Ikram had been right: there was no guard at her door. She tucked the knife away and drew her sword, a double-bladed beauty Ikram had managed to find.
She grabbed the first soldier she came across and threw him against the wall. The tip of her blade scratched the skin of his neck. "Where's Syed Bahadur?" she asked.
"I-I don't know," the soldier said.
"You don't know where your lord is?"
"He's a changeling!" he defended.
Myles had to admit: locating a changeling would be difficult.
"What about Sir Jesualdo?" she asked.
"He went to the courtyard. Something about making an exchange, for a ceasefire?"
"Thank you." Myles put him to sleep with the butt of her sword.
*~*~*
Two swordfights, several hallways, and a flight of stairs later, Myles burst into the courtyard. By habit she identified all exits (multiple entrances and hallways, without even getting creative with climbing up the pillars), enemies (Sir Jesualdo, fully armed and armored, with four guards), and allies. Lord Aden was there with two guards, as well as "Lord" Gideon, if he even be counted as an ally.
But most importantly, Ikram.
She was in a man's form, but Myles would recognize those sharp eyes anywhere. Even when they were wide with shock.
Myles scanned the faces in the courtyard… and found one that didn't belong.
There was another Myles Agrippa.
She was in rags, her mud-colored hair tangled, bruises on her skin. She looked like a wretched prisoner.
Myles—the real Myles—sighed. "Syed Bahadur, that is despicable."
Bahadur shrugged, morphing from Myles's form to the tall general of the field. "All's fair in war."
Shock and rage colored the faces of the Septimoans. Anger boiled in Myles's stomach as the sounds of battle raged just outside. "You sacrificed the lives of your men just to plant an informant?!"
Ikram sounded even more furious. "You were going to steal her life?!"
Myles sucked in a breath as Ikram's skin rippled with darkness and her hair turned red. She shook her head. Don't do it, don't do it…
Too late. Everyone had already seen. Gideon hadn't quite put the pieces together yet, frowning at Ikram in confusion. Aden had, and took a careful step back.
Bahadur glared at Ikram. "Really? You sided with them? After everything they've done to our country?"
"Better than destroying my life through pointless revenge!" Ikram snapped, and turned into a black wolf. She lunged at Bahadur, who turned into a bear and rolled with the tackle.
"What in the frozen hells?" Gideon cursed. Everyone else exploded in chaos. The guards drew swords and attacked. Aden did a flash spell that got him knocked unconscious with the flat of a soldier's blade rather than decapitated. Myles took two steps toward the fray before her way was blocked.
"Come now, Lady Floriane," Sir Jesualdo said. "Let's go seek shelter."
Ikram had turned into a python and was strangling Bahadur the bear, until he switched into a cobra. Ikram became a falcon to fly away from the venomous fangs, to be chased by Bahadur when he turned into an eagle. Myles wanted to grab the bastard's feathers and tear him in half.
"Get out of my way," she growled.
"Lady Floriane, don't make me use force."
She raised her sword. "My name is Myles."
Jesualdo sighed and drew his blade.
Myles would give credit where credit was due: Jesualdo was a fine swordsman. She had to block as often as she swung. She got nicked on the arm when she was too slow in her dodge, until she finally managed to get under his arm and shove her blade into his hip.
Jesualdo fell with a scream. Myles yanked her sword out.
"Sol's beard, woman, you've killed me!" Jesualdo cried.
Myles gave an annoyed sigh. "It's not fatal so long as it doesn't fester. You might have a limp, though. It'll make a good story to tell your betrothed." She plucked the sword from his limp fingers and went to find her beloved.
Gideon was hiding behind a pillar, clutching a knife like it was the key to Helios's heaven. The other soldiers were locked in combat in the courtyard, half of them already dead or bleeding out on the grass.
Ikram and Bahadur came crashing to the ground as dragons. One had scales as black as ebony and streaked with blue. The other was green with golden highlights. They were covered in cuts and bites as they clawed and snapped at each other.
"Ikram!" Myles cried.
The dragons pulled apart, hissing at each other. The black one shrank into human size. She was either too tired or angry to be anything other than her natural form. The skin remained black. The shoulder-length hair was pale blue. The familiar dark eyes were ablaze with anger.
Myles looked Ikram up and down, sucking in her breath at the cuts and gashes painting her skin red. She turned on Bahadur the dragon, planting herself between him and Ikram. He was going to pay for every little cut and bruise.
Bahadur hissed and inhaled.
Myles threw one of her swords before grabbing Ikram and sprinting for cover. Bahadur shrieked in pain, fire spewing across the courtyard. Myles peeked around the pillar and saw her sword embedded in Bahadur's nostril.
"How do we kill him?" Ikram panted.
"I need to get on his back," Myles said.
"Right." Ikram ran her fingers through her blue hair. "I can distract him."
"No, Ik—"
"The only thing immune to dragon fire is a dragon. Therefore, I'm distracting him," Ikram said.
Myles bit back a curse. "Fine. Be careful." She kissed Ikram's cheek and ran into the castle. She passed half a dozen dead and wailing men on her way up the stairs and onto the ramparts. When she came outside again, she was standing on the wall that ringed the courtyard. She ducked low so as not to be seen and placed herself right over Ikram.
Bahadur was still snarling through the sword up his nose, hissing smoke and spitting sparks. Ikram morphed into her black dragon form and spat a fireball at Bahadur.
Bahadur roared, his wings smashing pillars. He lunged at Ikram, who shot into the sky. As he spread his wings to go after her, Myles jumped from the ramparts and onto his back.
Myles clung to his scales as Bahadur pumped his wings and rocketed into the sky. He roared, trying to turn his head to snap at her. The sheer force of the wind blinded Myles, and she kept her head down, her eyes on his green scales.
Ikram suddenly took a nose-dive, and Bahadur leveled out, letting her stream past him so he could attack from above. Finally able to get her feet under her, Myles gripped her sword with both hands and drove it into Bahadur's back.
Bahadur shrieked. Myles twisted the blade, making sure she hit something fatal. Given the blood Bahadur was coughing that sprinkled up into Myles's face, she'd hit the lungs.
Bahadur shuddered, froze in the air, and fell. His body shrank down into human form, and the sword handle slipped from Myles's hand. She was free-falling.
Strong arms and wings wrapped around her. All Myles could see was black, until Ikram leveled out and spread her wings. Myles gripped Ikram's arm as they glided over the battlefield. She didn't get much chance to appreciate the beauty of the view, or the horror of the battle, until they landed back in the courtyard. Ikram morphed back into her natural, malaak form and staggered. Myles kept her steady. "All right?"
"Fine," Ikram huffed. "Provided we don't do that again."
Myles found a sword on the ground, its dead owner inches away. She picked it up and looked around.
All the guards were either dead, wounded, or gone. Gideon was catatonic, and looked close to wetting himself. Aden had just returned to consciousness from his collision with the flat of a sword and was getting to his feet.
"We need to go," Ikram said.
"Milord!"
Myles and Ikram stiffened. Aden turned to the voice. Two soldiers ran into the courtyard to Aden. They froze when they saw Ikram.
Myles pulled Ikram behind her and raised her sword. It didn't even occur to her that these were her countrymen, people she had sworn to protect against invaders and corruption. They were a threat to Ikram.
"Go get more men," Aden ordered.
"Milord?"
"It'll take a lot more than you two to take down a changeling," Aden snapped. "I'll hold them off, but we need reinforcements."
The soldiers didn't argue it further. They ran out of the yard.
Myles stiffened, readying herself to dive away from a spell.
Instead, Aden turned to them. "Go."
"Huh?" Ikram asked.
"It's chaos. Nobody'll notice you slipping out. Just wait until you're a few leagues away before turning into a dragon again."
From the corner of the yard, against his pillar, Gideon sputtered and got to his feet. "You… you traitor! They should be arrested! A woman is forbidden from bearing arms and a changeling is forbidden from life! You call yourself a servant of Septimos, you spineless—"
"Oblivion," Aden ordered, his eyes flashing black.
Gideon's eyes went white, and he crumpled to the ground.
"Was that… a memory spell?" Ikram asked.
"Should wipe his mind of the last ten minutes," Aden said. "What are you two doing? You need to go!"
Myles and Ikram stared at Aden for a long moment. When it finally registered, Myles relaxed. She gave Aden a relieved smile before she grabbed Ikram's hand and ran.
*~*~*
Two weeks later…
"Thank you again, Magnus," Myles said, watching the servants load their things onto the wagons. They weren't using the carriages, or the fine horses, or any other symbol of wealth and status. Myles herself was in basic riding clothes instead of her armor. Men's clothes, of course. Ikram was next to her, in the form of a plain, brown-haired woman.
"Well, you did slay another dragon, one who was going to infiltrate the country and sell us to the Tieraustrians," Sir Magnus said. "It's the least I could do."
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