I slammed the door shut.
Sefa and Marek floated in the middle of the room, their dilated eyes roving wildly, chasing the nightmares in their own heads. Their limbs dangled forward, twitching. The scent of spoiled eggs assaulted my nose. On the floor below them lay a doll identical to mine. Black twine hung limply from Marek’s fingers.
Sefa’s eyes rolled back in her head. She jerked violently. Marek’s arm twisted to an unnatural position, and a guttural moan leaked from his open mouth.
The door burst open. Arin blew in, rain clinging to his coat and darkening his hair. He took in the gruesome sight and shoved the door shut when his guards attempted to follow.
He picked up the doll. “How long?”
“I don’t know, I found mine five minutes ago.” Marek’s shoulder snapped back, and I shrieked. “How do we get it out?!”
He snatched the twine from Marek’s grip. “Tie this around the doll.”
Tying the cursed twine around the doll would flip the doll’s compulsion, drawing the ghaiba out of its host. I wrapped the twine from the top to bottom of the doll. “Each of them has absorbed half the ghaiba. It’ll take hours for the doll to pull it out of them!”
“I am aware,” Arin said. He pulled off his gloves and shed his coat. “It might be to your benefit to wait outside.” At my scowl, he clenched his teeth. “Then be prepared to catch them.”
“What are you going to do?” I had an inkling, but it couldn’t be right. He could not possibly be considering—
The Commander moved with the swiftness of a serpent’s strike, grabbing Marek’s exposed wrist in one hand, Sefa’s in the other. Marek’s deadweight fell onto the bed, and I rushed forward as Sefa tumbled. We collided in a heap next to Marek. I checked their breathing; shallow, but steady.
A loud crash spurred me to my feet. The doors of the wardrobe smashed to the floor, and the muscles in Arin’s back went rigid as the ghaiba attacked the Heir. He doubled over, gripping a shelf in the wardrobe as his face contorted with agony.
A great shudder went through him. His knuckles whitened around the shelf. What doubts did Arin have that the ghaiba could feed on? What regrets?
I gripped his forearm, squeezing the stiff tendons. Touching him in this state was foolish, but I couldn’t stand how helpless I felt. Another endless moment crawled past, and Arin exhaled, eyes flying open.
He tore his arm from me, the white sheen on his face dissolving with anger. “Have your limited senses forsaken you? I can scarcely bear your touch under the best circumstances. It only takes seconds to lose control, seconds to snap your neck.”
“My limited senses? I am not the one absorbing ghaibas into myself! How did you even know your maneuver would succeed?”
Arin swept his hair from his forehead, pointedly ignoring my question.
I threw my arms up. “It was a theory, wasn’t it? You calculated the likelihood your ability to sense magic would attract the ghaiba enough to leave Marek and Sefa.”
“Close,” Arin said, and offered no clarification. He sat with his back to the wardrobe. “The stronger the mind, the greater the ghaiba’s challenge. I suppose it found me tempting.”
“Do not do it again.” The harshness of my tone took us both by surprise. I was still kneeling next to him, a persistent tremble working through me. The sight of Arin bowed in pain was not one I wanted to witness twice. “One day, you will miscalculate. You can’t test a theory using yourself, do you understand? You are an Heir, there are risks you simply cannot take! It is sheer madness, irresponsible—”
“Breathe.” With a wince, he reached for his abandoned gloves and put them on. His gloved hand covered the one latched to my knee.
“No.”
Birds had practiced their sweet songs for generations, but even their music did not compare to the sound of Arin’s laugh.
We stared at each other until the shadows in the room lengthened.
“Why do you keep trying to save me?” he said, and if I hadn’t been inches from him, I wouldn’t have heard it.
“Why do you keep needing to be saved?”
Oh, you foolish, foolish girl, Hanim groaned.
Arin seemed to realize his hand was still on top of mine. He straightened, clearing his throat. “You said there was a doll in your room?” Arin asked.
I shook myself, fumbling to withdraw the wrapped monstrosity from my cloak’s pocket. I passed it over, avoiding Arin’s eyes. He eased himself to his feet. I followed at a distance, moving to hover over Sefa and Marek.