You could possess all the magic in the world, and you would still give Jasad your back, Hanim said. I fisted my hands in my hair, shaking my head like a dog trying to unseat a persistent fly.
Before Dawoud could respond to my ravings, a shriek shook the earth. Too late, I registered the long shadow over us. Al Anqa’a dove, and I hurled myself into Dawoud as its claws curled over the place where he had stood.
“Here, take this.” I shoved the dagger’s handle into his hand, pulling out the one in my boot as I leapt to my feet. “Go, stay close to the buildings!”
Dawoud glanced at the dagger, uncomprehending. “You think I am going to leave you to fight alone?”
Al Anqa’a screeched, and I fervently hoped the crowds waiting beyond Dar al Mansi could hear it. That they knew Dar al Mansi, for all that it was forgotten, would never stop demanding to be heard.
I flipped the dagger, keeping Al Anqa’a fixed on me as it folded its wings to dive again. “I am more than capable of fighting alone.”
Glass wings chimed with the wind as Al Anqa’a swept toward me. I dropped in a long slide as it approached, pointing my dagger up. I braced my arms, keeping the dagger firm and high. Al Anqa’a wailed as the dagger pierced its featherless underside, and its talons caught me in the shoulder and swung. I crashed into the side of a crumbling house.
Al Anqa’a shook itself, and the dagger fell to the ground. Its beady gaze narrowed. I pushed myself from the crevice of rubble. A sharp claw pierced my calf, dragging me out of the narrow alley. I tried to grab hold of an anchor, tearing out roots and scrabbling at boulders.
Al Anqa’a unhinged its beak, its wings unfolding over me. A breathtaking tableau of color unspooled, more brilliant than every dawn and dusk I’d witnessed.
I writhed under its unyielding talons, trailing blood behind me.
Suddenly, Al Anqa’a bellowed again, releasing me to arch into the air. Behind it stood Dawoud, his hands raised and his lips moving. His eyes glowed gold and silver. Al Anqa’a teetered in the sky, a powerful gust of wind from its wings sending Dawoud stumbling.
“Dawoud, stop!” I cried out. He would need every ounce of magic he had to escape the patrol surrounding Dar al Mansi. He couldn’t waste it all on Al Anqa’a.
Sweat beaded on his forehead, gathering in its deep grooves. “Essiya, end this,” Dawoud said. I limped to my dagger and wiped it against my thigh. “You know what Rawain wants.”
It was my turn to stare uncomprehendingly. “I am not going to kill you,” I snarled.
The sensible part of me knew failing Rawain’s test would mean an end to all my plans. An end to Arin’s designs. But I had lasted this long by recognizing the burdens I could bear, and killing Dawoud was not among them.
Al Anqa’a knocked a wall from a shop, sending bricks blasting around us. Dawoud’s magic couldn’t hold it much longer. My cuffs tightened, swelling with my fear.
He couldn’t hold it, but I could.
I stared at my cuffs as they grew tighter than they ever had.
Al Anqa’a swiped at Dawoud, missing him by inches. I threw my arms into the air, my cuffs throbbing as my magic hurtled into Al Anqa’a. The creature screamed, its sunset glass wings clinking. An opaque mist blanketed the sky.
Dawoud regarded the shrieking bird with no small amount of awe. But when he glanced at me, shock swept over his features. “What’s wrong with your eyes?”
I frowned, blinking rapidly. My arms quaked with the strain of holding Al Anqa’a away.
“They’re—they have not changed. Not a hint of gold or silver.” He peered closer. “Where is the magic in your darling kitmer eyes?”
“The cuffs,” I spat. “My magic flows through the cuffs, not my body. Dawoud, you have to run. Please. I cannot hold it much longer, and the patrol will be closing in on Dar al Mansi.”
Dawoud went deathly white. He staggered away, looking at my wrists with more terror than he spared Al Anqa’a. Had the effects of expending so much magic caught up with him?
“How can they still be there? How?” he gasped. “Oh, my dear Essiya, oh no. What has happened to you?”
You have the potential and power to be worse than any who have come before you.
“Dawoud,” I set my feet as Al Anqa’a bashed itself against the barrier. I slid backward with each blow to my magic. “Did I ever burn your favorite quilt?”
A peculiar look flashed over Usr Jasad’s head of staff. It was the look of someone who believed one wrong pull of the ropes would bring the sky crashing down. A look I recognized from my childhood. His thick brows furrowed. “I should have let you take it to the courtyard,” he said.