“Shhh,” I said, holding Opal’s cheek. “Stay here. You’ll be s-safe.”
I didn’t see anything, only an empty expanse of craggy, red-veined canyon. No soldiers. No mercenaries. No Edan.
My heart hammered as I reached for my dagger, then into my satchel for my scissors—just in case—stashing them in my boot. Edan had shown me how to slice a man’s throat, how to stab a man in the back—I tried to recall the lessons, fervently hoping I wouldn’t need them.
Armed, I rushed to catch up with Edan. The rain had stopped, but the ground was wet as I ran along the Leyang River.
I heard the soldiers before I saw them around a bend. Their horses snorted and neighed from across the river, and the soldiers’ armor clattered. They marched in a line that curved along the canyon floor, their iron shields and swords a stark contrast to the lush greenery. I gritted my teeth when I picked out Vachir among the men, riding a white stallion.
Crouching behind a tree, I scanned the area for Edan. He wasn’t far, and he was on my side of the river, directly facing them. I ran toward him.
“There’s quite a heavy price on your head, Lord Enchanter!” Vachir yelled. “You, sir, are going to the shansen. We’ll take the trunks, and the girl.”
That last part made Edan’s eyes darken with anger. No sane man would dare threaten an enchanter, but the shansen’s men were recklessly confident.
Did they know that Edan’s magic was weakened?
I joined Edan by the river. He took one step to the side, shielding me. But he kept his eyes trained across the river, on our enemies. He raised his bow.
“I thought enchanters didn’t need weapons,” one of the soldiers sneered.
“You do not want to fight against me,” Edan said. “I suggest you be on your way.”
Vachir waved his sword, and his men began to ford the river.
A few of them turned their attention to me, shouting lewd words and making kissing sounds. Edan’s eyes blackened into cinder. He stiffened and raised his bow and fired three rapid shots. The men fell into the river, never to rise again.
Already the soldiers were on our side, rounding on Edan. Edan grabbed my wrist and pushed me away from the river. “Go!” he shouted.
I ran, but two soldiers sprang on me from behind the trees. My dagger was out, but the men surrounded me, laughing.
“Where you going, girl?”
I slashed at the one who’d spoken, but I missed his throat and scored his cheek instead. I made a long, jagged gash—one that wouldn’t be pretty once it healed. The man growled. As he moved to strike me, I raised my dagger again. But the second soldier came from the side, caught my arm, and twisted it until I dropped my weapon.
His teeth were yellow and crooked, and his breath smelled of spoiled meat. Before I could scream, his cold, sweaty hand covered my lips. I saw the dirt and blood in his nails, and my knees buckled. He laughed in my face as he held his knife over my throat.
“Stop fooling around and just kill her,” his friend spat, wiping his bleeding face on his sleeve. “She’s not the one with a price on her head. The enchanter is.”
“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve felt a woman?” My captor yanked my hair back, forcing my neck to crane upward. “Not so feisty now, are you?”
I began to feel afraid. Two men, both larger and stronger than me. No dagger. No Edan. The world swayed.
No, I snapped at myself. You’ve come too far to give up now. Have to fight.
Using both my hands, I grabbed the arm holding the knife at my throat and pulled it away from my neck. I twisted out of my attacker’s grip, jabbing my elbow into his side and quickly grabbing the hilt of his knife, kneeing him in the groin until he let go.
His friend lunged after me, but I swung the knife at his face, scoring yet another cut. As he howled in pain, I dropped the knife, picked up my dagger, and made my escape.
The two men chased me, their footsteps thudding, growing dangerously closer. I ignored their shouts, didn’t look back. Then an arrow zinged past me, followed by a scream from one of the soldiers on my trail.
When I looked up, there Edan was, storming toward me with his bow raised. The soldier I’d cut tried to turn back and run away, but he was the next to fall. His body slumped into the dirt.
I couldn’t have been more than twenty paces from Edan when someone grabbed me from behind. His grip was strong enough to bruise my ribs, and he pressed his sword against my throat. “Put down your weapon, enchanter. You’re outnumbered.”
I recognized the voice. Vachir.
“Let her go,” Edan said, lifting his bow.
Vachir spat at Edan’s feet. “Make me. If you had any powers, you would have used them already.”
Edan gritted his teeth. It was true—he had almost no magic left. There was no way for us to escape.
I clawed my nails into Vachir’s arm, smashed my heel into his foot, but his skin was tough as leather and he only held me tighter.
“Let her go,” Edan repeated. “This is my last warning.”
The other soldiers arrived. Too many to fight. They circled us until we were completely surrounded, and they laughed, their bows and swords raised at Edan’s head.
Edan still wouldn’t lower his weapon.
Vachir’s blade pressed deeper into my skin, and I squeezed my eyes shut. This is not how I die—my throat slit by a Balardan!
My fingers slid slowly toward my sash, clasping my scissors.
Behind me, Vachir’s body tensed. He craned his neck to look at the sky.
A tide of clouds had appeared from nowhere, casting a great shadow upon us. Lightning crackled, and thunder broke. The ground trembled, and several of the soldiers fell to their knees. I raised my scissors and blindly stabbed Vachir in the thigh.
As he hollered in pain, I twisted out of his arms.
A pile of dead soldiers surrounded Edan, but he was running out of arrows. Vachir and his remaining men charged for us. Then the earth bucked beneath us, and the river began to rise.
“Are you doing that?” I shouted, picking up my dagger.
“No.” Edan pulled my hand, urging me to climb the rocks ahead. “They’re coming.”
“Who?” My voice trembled.
Instead of answering, Edan said, “Get to higher ground.”
I followed him, scrambling up the steep slope away from the river. The world spun, and with each step my head felt lighter and lighter, while my skin burned hotter. But I kept my eyes open and glanced below us. I soon wished I hadn’t looked.
Ghosts. I’d thought they were confined to Lake Paduan, but I was wrong.
A sharp shiver raced up my spine. I tugged on Edan’s sleeve, unable to speak.
He pulled me forward. “Don’t look. Keep going.”
I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the ghosts. I counted dozens, maybe a hundred. Most took the shape of animals—bears, foxes, and wolves, all with red eyes. But here they did not screech or even whisper; they sailed across the land with eerie silence, so that only the soldiers’ screams could be heard. The men slashed at the beasts with their swords and then shouted when there was no blood. “Magic!” they cried. “Ghosts!” These words were the last they uttered before the ghosts bared their teeth and encircled the men, folding over them—until there were no more cries.
One creature stood out from the rest. He was distressingly familiar, and more powerful than all the ghosts combined.
Bandur. The demon who had taken Sendo’s form in the Thief’s Tower. The one who had nearly killed me. He was horrible to look at in the light of the sun. All smoke and shadow, his eyes dark as dead blood. He wore armor today, and his amulet hung on his neck.
Bandur caught me staring, and with a smile, he vanished from the battle. Knowing I’d made a mistake, I hurried after Edan. Too late. I screamed when Ban
dur materialized, breaking Edan and me apart.
“You!” I cried. “I…I killed you!”
“Didn’t you listen to your Lord Enchanter?” Bandur mocked. “You can’t kill one who’s already dead, girl. Though I applaud you for trying. I do enjoy a good chase, and it has been too long since I’ve been able to leave that accursed island. Unfortunately, it will cost you.”
The dagger at my side trembled. Edan was calling it to him. It flew to his hand, then shuddered and shook—as if confused.
“Silence!” Bandur shouted. His mouth formed a cruel smile as Edan’s weapon clattered to the ground. “Your power is weak, Edan. You shouldn’t be so far from your master.”
Edan picked up his dagger. “You cannot have her.”
The demon’s terrible red eyes turned to consider me. In the wicked gleam of his pupils, I saw a reflection of the claw marks on my neck. “She is marked. You are a fool to open your heart while under your oath. She will not be free of me unless I will it.”
“Then tell me what you want. I shall pay it.”
“No!” I shouted. “Edan!”
The demon raised a hand to silence me. A low groan escaped my mouth, but my tongue no longer moved—I was frozen in place.
“Do not fancy that you have something I want, Edan,” continued Bandur. “You knew the price you would pay when you drank the blood of stars. You gave your freedom, and it will not be yours again—not in the girl’s lifetime. There is nothing you can give me while you are under oath. Unless…” Bandur retracted his claws. “I doubt you would sacrifice so much for a mere girl.”
“She is not a mere girl,” Edan spat. “I love her.”
“But she is free, and you are under oath.”
Edan blocked me with raised arms. “I am of more value to you, even under oath.”
“Are you, now, Edan?” Bandur taunted. His hollow eyes bored into me. “I can sense magic in her. It is still weak, but as you said earlier, she is no mere girl.”
“Tell me what you want in exchange for releasing her, and I will do it—oath or not.”
“You know what I want, enchanter,” Bandur said harshly. “I grow tired of being a guardian. You will take my place.”
No! I wanted to shout.
But Edan nodded. Slowly. “Give me a year,” he said, “to return Maia safely to the palace and see that peace is established under Emperor Khanujin—”
“You have until the red sun, Edan,” Bandur interrupted. “Take the girl home, then return to the Isles of Lapzur before sunset. If you run from this debt, the consequences will be great. I will come for her and tear her apart, scattering her remains across Lake Paduan so she lives the rest of eternity broken. She will never leave the island.”
“I understand,” Edan said unflinchingly. “The red sun, then. Upon my honor and sigil as a lord enchanter, you have my word.”
“Fine,” Bandur rasped. If a demon could be giddy, he was so. His claws pierced the tree behind me. It withered, the bark graying and the leaves wilting brown into dust. “You have accepted. We are done.”
“We are done,” Edan echoed.
Bandur grasped his amulet and, along with his army of ghosts, vanished. The forest rustled again with life, and but for Vachir’s fallen men, it was as if Bandur’s shadow had never touched it.
My fever was gone, but I was shaking, rocking back and forth, hugging my arms to my chest.
“What did you do?” I whispered.
“Nothing I wasn’t prepared to,” he said. “Let’s go.”
I grabbed his sleeve. “Edan, you’re hurt,” I said, pointing at his wounds.
“Let’s deal with it later. I want to get out of this damned place first.”
Mutely, I nodded. We collected the horses and the trunks and set off for the Autumn Palace. My heart was heavy, and it only grew heavier as we rode, for Edan didn’t speak to me. Rain pattered down, slicking back his black hair. His eyes were normal now—blue as the sea. But he held his reins so tightly his knuckles were white.
“Bandur…was your teacher, wasn’t he?” I asked finally. “The one who became a demon.”
At first I thought he hadn’t heard me, he was so slow to reply. “Yes.”
I leaned over to touch Edan’s arm. My throat grew thick with emotion, and I swallowed. “How did he—”
“There are many types of demons, Maia. Some are born, or cursed. Not all begin as men or enchanters or even as animals. But guardians such as Bandur are among the strongest of demons and are always enchanters who have broken their oaths. Bandur killed the man he was sworn to serve—the man who owned his amulet. As punishment, he was forced to become the guardian of the Forgotten Isles for all eternity. Or until another took his place.”
“And now you will become the next guardian of the islands,” I whispered.
Edan gave a sad laugh at my horror. “Don’t worry yourself over it, xitara.” He kissed my cheek so softly I almost didn’t feel it. “I would far rather endure this fate than allow Bandur to possess your soul.”
A part of me shattered. My gut twisted and churned, and I couldn’t hold in my emotions. I reined in Opal and threw my arms around Edan’s neck. “You stupid man!” I cried. I held his cheeks and drew him close so our foreheads touched. “Promise me now we’ll find some way to fight this. Promise me you aren’t going to turn into a demon…like Bandur.”
Edan pushed me away gently. “I love you, Maia. My life has been long, so let me do something good for you. You will become the greatest tailor in A’landi, and you will find some lucky boy to marry—”
“I won’t.”
“Be sensible,” he said, squeezing my hands. “I cannot give you a future. You will forget me. I can make that happen.”
I jerked my hands away from him, stung. “Don’t you dare!” A sob wracked me, and my chest throbbed. Edan drew me to him and held me tight, kissing my cheek, then my neck.
“Don’t touch me,” I said, twisting out of his arms. I needed air. I needed to be away from Edan. “What about all your promises?” I couldn’t bring myself to speak—of the shop we’d open together by the ocean, of waking every morning to the sound of Edan’s laugh, of sewing to the song of his flute, of the towers of books strewn beside my looms and frames as I grew old with him. My mouth went dry, the loss of a dream I’d finally dared to hope for swelling in my throat.
I was hurt and angry—at myself and Edan and Lady Sarnai and Emperor Khanujin. I wanted to reach into my trunk and rip Lady Sarnai’s dresses to shreds. They were the cause of everything—if I hadn’t gone on this journey to make them, none of this would have happened.
Now Edan was condemned to be a demon.
All because of me.
Dusk fell, and Edan the hawk tried to perch on my shoulder a few times, but I waved him away until he disappeared. I didn’t look back to wonder where he was.
I held in another sob. My body ached, and my eyes were raw from weeping. I was so tired. From the raid, from Bandur, from being so close to the stars.
From knowing that I was about to lose the boy I loved.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Once we were out of the canyon, Edan and I traveled for days without seeing any signs of civilization, until we finally came upon a monastery. Wedged between two great willow trees, it had a roof whose edges curled out like wings and a bronze bell that rang from a pillared courtyard by the entrance.
I didn’t know whether to be hopeful for a warm meal and bed that night or anxious that we would have to deal with company. Edan and I had been riding in silence, him behind me, keeping a careful distance. Every time I stole a glimpse at him, his arms were folded over his lap, hands only moving to push his dark, unruly curls out of his eyes. I wished he would at least whistle or hum, but he didn’t dare. Even his shadow didn’t touch mine.
“You should get a good ni
ght’s rest,” he said, his voice crackly from disuse. “The monks will take you in.”
I inhaled. The air was crisp, fragrant with pine and dew, and the shadows drifted west as the world slowly tilted toward night. “What about you?”
“Magic and religion have been at odds for centuries. I doubt a monastery would welcome me with open arms.”
“I’m not going in if you aren’t.”
Edan overlooked my petulance. “Does that mean you want me to go in with you?”
I wouldn’t answer, and he reined Rook toward the monastery.
We left the horses outside. There was a modest stables next to the grounds, well supplied with hay and water for Opal and Rook. Edan hid our weapons under a bush nearby.
I saw the monks before we reached the gates, outside sweeping the monastery’s wide stone steps. Their heads were shaved, and they wore plain muslin cloaks over their robes. They greeted us with polite bows, but Edan was right—the senior monk eyed him suspiciously. Still, he did not turn us away.
We left our shoes outside, and one of the younger monks brought us water to wash our feet. A thread of saffron floated in the wooden bowl, scenting the air. I dipped my toes, shivering as the cool water washed over my skin.
Edan tried reaching for my hand, but I shoved his away. I saw his jaw stiffen, his mouth drawing in a tight, cautious line, and the twinge in my heart sharpened. I was hurting him, but I couldn’t help it. Deep down, I yearned to have his arms around me, to have his warm breath touch my hair and his heart beat against mine. But every time Edan’s promise to Bandur bubbled up in my memory, a flare of anger burned deep in me.
Going with Bandur had been my choice to make, not Edan’s. Mine.
I pursed my lips tight, refusing to look at him. Instead, I stared at the sun. I couldn’t look for much longer than a blink, but still I saw the ever-widening red tinge in its crown. Two weeks left of making Lady Sarnai’s damned dresses. They were the reason everything had gone wrong.
The senior monk, whom I’d heard the others call Ci’an, approached. He was very old, his frame thin and shrunken, but his eyes were sharp. “We welcome guests to the monastery as long as they make themselves useful during their stay. Can you cook?”
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