“Don’t lie to me, Essiya,” Niphran said, stern. The flames danced around her waist.
“Can we focus?” On the shore, the shadow figures swayed faster. Straining to hear our ludicrous conversation? “The fire—”
Gold and silver churned in her eyes. “He’s very handsome. Before I met your father, I was infatuated with boys like him. All the ice and sharp edges. The Nizahl Heir, though! I don’t think I could have ever been so audacious, even in my youth. I am impressed.”
The kitmer clawed, unable to escape its silk prison.
The flames gleefully consumed my mother. The moment she disappeared from view, she shrieked. Shrill, ear-piercing shrieks. “Help me!”
I beat my fists against the ice. Ripped my crown from my hair and scraped it against the thick layer of frozen lake. Why wouldn’t the ice break?
Smoke stung my eyes. I scrubbed them, Niphran’s harrowing screams intensifying. It happened as it had in a hundred dreams. I glanced down to see smooth, bare skin where my cuffs had been.
I knew how it would go. The fire would burst. Eat the shadow people and then feast on me. I couldn’t watch it happen again. If my freed magic wasn’t the solution, what was?
Hanim’s old taunt. You could possess all the magic in the world, and you would still give Jasad your back.
“Essiya!”
I had already watched my mother die once today. I threw myself into the fire and collided with Niphran, wrapping my arms around her. The shadow creatures rushed forward. Instead of consuming us, the fire shot up, crawling over the night sky. Bringing dawn to the shadows. Not shadows—Dawoud, Niyar, Palia. Countless Jasadis, given faces and names at last.
Niphran’s eyes shone. “You saved me.”
My arms closed around empty air as my mother vanished, taking the lake and the Jasadis with her. It was just Soraya and me, standing in my old palace bedroom.
Soraya fell, clutching her stomach as my magic rippled around us. I sat on the ground beside her, and sadness swelled in my chest. The best memories of my childhood were in this room with her and Dawoud. “I’m sorry Hanim betrayed you, Soraya. She trained us to be pawns in her game.” I touched the crown of Soraya’s bent head. Grief. Rage. Fear. I had let them lead me, but Soraya had let herself become them. “If I had never gone to Mahair, I would have become as empty and lost as you. Treating love like a disease to be purged.”
I took her face in my hands. Her gaze was pained and panic-stricken. “Goodbye, Soraya,” I whispered.
My magic surged around the attendant, gales of gold and silver whirling around her faster and faster. She threw her head back as my magic flowed into her, lighting under her skin.
Soraya screamed, and I threw my arm over my face as magic painted the bedroom white.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
I prepared for the Victor’s Ball alone.
They had placed my belongings in a room in the Citadel’s main spire. My plum-colored gown spilled over the cushioned bench in a whisper of silk while I practiced different expressions in the gilded mirror. Proud, humbled, delighted. My cheeks hurt.
There wasn’t much to be done about my eyes. A dead and pitiless black, they couldn’t be coaxed to mimic any form of life. I lined them in finely powdered blue kohl and glanced away.
A knock sounded at the door. Time to perform one more time.
The mirror reflected Arin’s entrance. He closed the door behind him, and I slipped on my gloves from Rory. “How long do I have to stay?”
He leaned against the door. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d seen Arin lean. The man came out of his mother’s womb stiff and unimpressed. It was a telling sign. “Two hours. Once they’re well and truly inebriated, no one will notice if you take your leave.”
I pinned my hair from my face. The tight curls draped over my back.
“The Victor’s carriages have been readied. Sefa and the boy will meet you there. I’ve assigned a retinue of my most qualified soldiers to accompany you. They will take you wherever you would like to go, and once you have reached your destination, you may select any ten of them to become your permanent guard. Your winnings will be delivered separately and discreetly to a location of your choosing.” Arin spoke without inflection. I wondered if he had practiced his expressions for tonight, too.
I swiveled on the bench. The full sight of him momentarily knocked all other thoughts askew.
A tunic dyed in the most vivid shade of violet framed his broad shoulders and the flat, hard panes of his torso. Stitched over his heart was Nizahl’s symbol. Trim black pants hung from his narrow waist, tucked into clean, light boots. An amethyst circlet rested in a cloud of silver hair. He had replaced his heavy coat with a form-fitting black tailcoat that tapered behind his knees. Five shiny purple buttons lined the left side of the coat, with tiny ravens on the opposing side.