Makari shuddered and gasped. Then he was still.
And Juliet felt his power leave her. She sat up—her vision swayed a moment in sudden dizziness—and she looked at the other Juliet.
“Thank you,” she said.
The other Juliet stroked Makari’s forehead. “I want to die,” she repeated quietly, calmly.
Juliet got to her feet. She was still a little unsteady, but she made it the few steps she needed to kneel by Justiran’s side. His face was pale, his sightless eyes wide open; his skin was still warm, but he was very clearly dead.
I was not born to give you peace, she had told him, but that wasn’t quite true. He had been Catresou once, and the Juliet created peace for all her people.
“Go swiftly and in gladness,” she said quietly. “Forget not thy name, in all the dark places. Forget not those who have walked before thee. Heed not the nameless, who crawl and weep, but carry thy name to the Paths of Light.”
There was a thud behind her, then another. Juliet bolted to her feet and whirled, nearly lost her balance, and then saw what had alarmed her: the living dead were falling.
It was surreal. Horrifying, and yet almost comic. One by one, Makari’s servants—dead still, but living dead no more—collapsed to the ground and were still. They didn’t cry out, they didn’t flinch or gasp. They toppled like puppets with their strings cut.
The sight was so bizarre that for one moment, Juliet didn’t think anything of it.
Then she thought, Paris.
The next moment she was calling silently, Runajo?
Yes? said Runajo after a moment.
Did you find Paris? Is he—
Yes. He’s free.
But there was a restraint to Runajo’s thoughts; Juliet could tell that she was trying to hold something back, some memory or emotion from what had happened.
Is he alive? she demanded. Right now?
I’m watching him hug Romeo this moment, said Runajo, and the confusion in her voice sent a wave of relief down Juliet’s spine.
Are you all right? Runajo asked after a moment, strangely hesitant.
Yes. Makari’s dead. His servants too. The hissing of the revenants grew louder—
The hissing was from all around her.
Her body knew before her mind had finished comprehending: she dived for Makari’s corpse and wrenched the sword away from him.
She turned and raised the blade just in time to meet the first revenant.
Juliet? Juliet! Runajo’s voice was desperate in her mind; something must have slipped through the bond.
Revenants, Juliet snapped, dodging and then lashing out with her sword. But this revenant was new, not rotted away; the sword wasn’t sharp enough to slice all the way through the neck. Its head wobbled, and it lunged at her again.
Juliet grabbed it by the hair and wrenched.
One unspeakable moment later, the thing was dead, and she called to Runajo, Ballroom. First floor.
Not all of Makari’s servants had risen yet; of those that had, most were still moving slowly, not yet fully awakened. Juliet knew she might have only moments left before the whole crowd was upon her, and then her speed and strength and sword would not be enough; they would pile on her and tear her to pieces. All her instincts screamed at her to run, but she had to kill them before they escaped into the rest of the city—
She had to make them come at her one by one.
She seized the other Juliet by the arm and hauled her to her feet. Makari’s corpse tumbled to the floor with a thump; Juliet ignored it, already dragging the other girl to the nearest door.
There were several doors into the ballroom. But revenants were too witless to use strategy; they would run to the nearest living human, and that was Juliet.
“I want to die,” said the girl.
“Not now,” said Juliet, shoving her out into the hallway. Then she turned and planted herself in the doorway—just in time to meet the next revenant.
She killed it. And the next, and the next.
There were still more.
Juliet’s arms burned with exhaustion, and her breath rasped in her throat. She couldn’t remember how many living dead had been in the room when she entered it. She only knew that she had to stop them from leaving.
She hoped desperately that she had been right, and none of them were going for the other doors.
“Need help?” Vai called out, and the next moment slid through the door under Juliet’s sword. Somebody followed: Paris.
Juliet charged after them, and the three of them made short work of the remaining revenants.
When they were done, for a few moments, all Juliet could do was gasp for breath. She was near the center of the room; Makari’s corpse lay near her. He hadn’t moved once; whatever magic had bound him so closely to the Ruining had also stopped his body from coming to life once his soul had fled.
All around her lay the heads and bodies of the slaughtered revenants.
They had not been living when she killed them, but they had been new; there were wide pools of black blood all across the floor, and suddenly Juliet remembered the pools of blood in the Catresou compound, when Lord Ineo gave the order and she killed and she killed and she killed—
She rubbed a shaking hand across her face. It’s over, she told herself. It’s over. He can’t give you orders anymore.
She forced herself to look around the room again—to notice that the foul smell of the black blood was different—and she saw, standing only a few paces away, Paris.
One of her kin, who had actually been saved.
She walked toward him. “Paris,” she said.
He turned to her, and for one moment his face was blank and empty, so close to how he’d been attacking Lord Ineo’s house that for a moment she feared—
Then he dropped to his knees. “Lady Juliet,” he said, his head bent low. “I have sinned against you and our people.”
She swallowed past the ache in her throat. She remembered how carefully respectful he had been when they had met, how it had touched her even in the midst of her grief for Romeo.
“I have as well,” she said, and laid her hand on his head. “Rise and serve me.”
He seized her hand and kissed it. “I will,” he said, and got to his feet.
“Is Romeo safe?” she asked.
“Yes, and waiting nearby,” said Vai, sauntering up beside her. “Did you have a plan for what to do next about him, or were you counting on dying first?”
“I . . . thought I would probably die,” Juliet admitted.
Vai snorted. “Well, it’s obvious why you two belong together.”
“Of course now I’m going to—” Juliet broke off when she saw Runajo standing in the doorway. “What are you doing here?”
“Coming to your assistance,” said Runajo, sounding cross. She wasn’t looking at Juliet; she was staring at the carnage of the revenants.
“You are useless in a fight,” said Juliet.
She knew that, had even one of the revenants escaped, Runajo probably would have been dead anyway. But it still filled her with a peculiar, helpless fury to know that Runajo had been standing just outside while they fought—a revenant could have gotten to her, and Juliet might not have even known until it was too late.
“I’m the only one who knows anything about magic,” said Runajo. “Where did they all come from?”
“His servants,” said Juliet, and couldn’t help glancing at Paris. “They all died when he did, and rose again after.”
“That’s not normal,” said Runajo.
“What part of the attempted necromancy and massive carnage tipped you off?” asked Vai.
“No,” said Runajo, “it’s the dead who turned to living dead in seconds.”
Cold fear seized Juliet’s heart. When the dead had started rising in one day instead of three, it had meant the walls were almost destroyed. If they were rising instantly now, did that mean—
“They were living dead,” she suggested desperately.
“No, she’s right,” said Vai. “I’ve killed living dead before, and none of them rose so fast. Something’s wrong.”
The revenants in the cages were still hissing and clawing at the bars. We have to kill them before we leave, Juliet thought distractedly.