“Never again,” he growled. He took a fistful of my hair, jerking my head back. “Lying whore. He wouldn’t—no. Never again.”
His forearm pressed down on my windpipe. I didn’t need Niphran’s specter to know he meant to kill me. I clawed at him, raking bloody lines down his cheek.
This would not be how my family ended.
“I should have run you through the first day,” he spat. “Filth like you should never survive this long.”
Behind him, the rabbit bounded in the air, out of the children’s reach. The tree ruffled over Niyar’s head, and from his seat at its base, he flipped the page of the book eternally open across his lap. Palia squinted on the palace steps, searching for Niyar. I’d seen this scene a million times since I arrived.
“You’re right,” I gasped. Black spots burst across my vision. My cuffs tightened. I should have died at the Blood Summit alongside everyone I loved. An honorable death, a worthy one. Never knowing the iron tang of blood filling my mouth, the crack of a whip as it sliced into my flesh. All my potential for greatness wouldn’t have been tested. I wouldn’t have failed Jasad so catastrophically.
But like a rat scrabbling in the dark, I’d lived.
On the wall, Palia put her hands on her hips, as though in wait.
Calling on every last vestige of strength, I unfurled my fingers.
We burst into flames.
They flared around me harmlessly, but Vaun bellowed and hurtled back. Tiny flames wound around my body, slithered in my braid.
I dragged myself to a stand, ignoring my shrieking body. Vaun retreated. I relished his fear, drank it in. I curled my fingers, and the curved sword on the chest flew, the pointed tip coming to a stop at his heart. I squeezed my fist, and it cut through his clothes. Vaun flung himself into the wall. The sword followed, pinning him in place.
Killing Vaun would solve so many problems. Letting him live would be letting more Jasadis die.
The hairs on the back of my neck rose.
“Drop the sword, Sylvia,” Arin said, low and soothing. I had not heard him enter, but it didn’t matter. I would sense him from miles away.
The words were hoarse from my mangled throat. “Why should I?”
Arin entered my line of sight, obscuring Vaun. Dust covered him from shoulder to waist, and a bruise bloomed high on his cheekbone.
“You are not a murderer.”
“I am, actually,” I chuckled. The fire jumped, preventing him from getting closer. “You don’t make that distinction when killing Jasadis. Why shouldn’t I behave as a killer if I’m to suffer the same fate regardless?”
Arin assessed my appearance, my wrecked face and the awkward angle of my broken bones. Comprehension washed over him, leaving grim resolution in its place.
He stepped aside.
The strangled noise Vaun made was almost enough to satisfy me. Almost.
I didn’t care if this was another test. Vaun was a menace to me, to everyone I cared about. My cuffs pulsed. Blood beaded around the sword’s tip.
I wanted to. So badly. My magic shook with it.
Again, my gaze found Niyar and Palia. The children ran past Niyar on the grass, chasing the bunny fleeing in midair. Just as the scene hitched, a leaf fluttered over Niyar’s head. I had seen the leaf and the tree he sat against on countless occasions.
I followed the leaf up. At the top of the tree, a child’s leg dangled. Her sandal was poorly fastened, hanging precariously off her toes. A few moments more and it would fall squarely onto Niyar’s book.
Palia had those sandals made for my seventh birthday. She wasn’t looking for Niyar—she was looking for me.
Hanim’s prodigy would cut him through without hesitation. No one would fault me. No one living, anyhow.
The leaf drifted as the child’s leg swung.
I snapped my fingers. Vaun’s scream shook the room as the sword sliced neatly through his thigh and pinned him to the wall.
He was not worth what was left of my soul.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Arin came to my room a few hours later. I would rather have suffered my injuries than induce my already-roiling magic to the surface, but he stood in the door until I rolled out of bed. He took my arm—not my hand—until I no longer looked like I’d been thumped repeatedly into a wall. The disappearance of my wounds only served to heighten my disgust. The puppet must remain pristine for its master. The surge of magic at this touch felt more controlled, but I saw Arin’s other hand tighten into a fist. Good. I hoped he suffered. I hoped the pull of my magic flayed him from the inside.
As soon as he removed his hand, I climbed into bed and gave him my back.