Vaida appeared through the carnage, the ash of her white flower dusting her braid. Black scorch marks had devoured the bottom of her ivory gown.
Never in any lifetime would Arin purport to understand the Awaleen, but watching Vaida barrel over burning bodies astride a snarling Ruby Hound, Arin had the sense that in a long line of powerful Sultanas, Vaida would have been Baira’s favorite.
The Sultana drew to a stop in front of Arin, her Hound’s nostrils flaring inches from Arin’s sword. She descended from its back, approaching Arin with her hands spread. Rubies studded her knuckles.
“Darling.” The musical cadence of Vaida’s voice had roughed, as though her throat had shed layers since the last time they met. “What a pleasure to see you.”
“I wish I could say the same.” The Mirayah might have used the relic magic from Baira’s ring to produce the Ruby Hounds, but it had exacted its own price from Vaida.
The Sultana approached, and Arin stayed still as she brought her fingers close to his mouth. One of them was not of flesh—a sliverof ruby had pierced through the socket where Vaida’s severed finger had grown.
“What have you done to yourself, Vaida?” Revulsion and dismay joined forces to boil over the peaks of Arin’s control.
“The Mirayah would only extract Baira’s magic from the ring if I gave up what I held most dear,” Vaida said offhandedly. “I fed it my beauty. Oh, don’t look so aghast, Arin. I knew the price when I entered.”
In a strange turn, she appeared thoughtful. Wistful, even. “The Mirayah could have glutted itself on your beauty. Your frightful, frustrating beauty. If I had been planted among flowers instead of thorns, I might never have known to guard myself against dark and hungry things—not if they had a face like yours. I might have let you consume me whole.”
Another arrow whistled close to Vaida, missing her head by inches. She stepped toward Arin, equal parts ploy and playfulness. An arrow could not find her without finding Arin, too.
Arin gazed into her red-streaked eyes. “Am I a dark and hungry thing?”
“The darkest.” Vaida leaned in, arching her toes to whisper in his ear. “The hungriest.”
Screams rang out as the Ruby Hounds converged on the first of the recruit compounds housed within the Citadel’s acres. Arin did not turn.
“I didn’t think you would be here with the hive of Jasadis marching toward their kingdom. I spotted a couple of her kitmers on the trade routes—marvelous, isn’t it? So many of our kingdoms’ storied creatures returning again.” Vaida patted Arin’s vest, observing Arin with an emotion she almost passed off as worry. “You know she will kill you if you don’t kill her first.”
Arin’s voice remained cool. “Worried she would come for you next?”
Vaida trilled a laugh. “My dear, I am positively terrified of that girl. The most volatile power is the kind that doesn’t recognize itself, and Essiya of Jasad could crouch over her own corpse without knowing its face. Without realizing she is her own killer.”
A chill went through Arin’s spine.
Around them, Vaida’s Hounds were slowly overrunning Arin’s soldiers. For every dead Hound there were a dozen felled Nizahl soldiers.
“You can still end this, Vaida.”
The rubies glittering in place of the Sultana’s eyes were as haughty as her real ones. “End it? My dear, I am only just beginning.”
Before Arin could react, Vaida stepped back through the flames and disappeared.
For the thousandth time, Arin reminded himself what waited on the other side of this battle.
By now, Jeru would have gathered Ehal and his own horse. They would be fed and rested, prepared to ride straight for Sirauk Bridge as soon as the Citadel was secure. Nuzret Kamel was tomorrow, and Arin would need to ride through the night for any hope of reaching her in time.
Essiya wouldn’t need the fortress if she had Nizahl, and ArinwasNizahl. Commander and Supreme; sword and crown.
I am the weapon of the Malika, and it is her alone I pledge myself to.
Arin pushed his sword through the maw of a Ruby Hound, using both hands to twist through its skull. Around him, Lukubi soldiers wove between the Ruby Hounds to clash against the Nizahl soldiers, their atrocious battle skills bolstered by the beasts at their sides.
If their ranks flagged, if the flames died down, if the Houndsmanaged to tear through their formation and flood into the towns beyond the Citadel, if he didn’t reach Essiya before the mist fell… the possibilities balanced like a scythe on the back of his neck.
By the time he found Vaida again, blood had molded his sleeves to his arms, and his vest lay in tatters.
Vaida stood on the perimeter of the dying flames, her gaze fixed on the Citadel.
As Arin peeled off his right glove, dropping it to the grass, he wished he had had a chance to understand. Why dedicate her life to violating the accords drafted by her ancestors to prevent this very carnage? What was it about the Citadel—about Nizahl—that Vaida had so desired?