The azi swung its tail spike, striking hard across the beast’s snout and tearing through flesh. The aeshma wailed in agony.
Polaire threw cutting Wind and Fire in Aenah’s direction. Earth, Air, and Water runes sprung up around Zoya, twisting themselves into a complicated knot to spew jets of acid. The Faceless called up walls of the dead even as Polaire’s corrosive magic hissed and fizzled against the corpses. Althy sent more Earth runes burrowing deep, but Aenah avoided the sinkhole, her cadavers carrying her to safer ground. “Is that all you have?” she said mockingly.
Even trapped, the aeshma was still a deadly opponent. Its spikes lengthened to twice its size, and we all had to dance out of the way when it began attacking indiscriminately. A lone spike came whizzing in my direction, but a Shield rune from Kalen kept it from slicing into me.
Very few of the soldiers had taken up Telemaine’s order, not wanting to get in between the two battling daeva. The half dozen who were courageous enough to do so were easily dispatched by Fox.
Mykaela ignored the danger, walking toward the aeshma, her face intent.
“Mykkie!” Polaire cried out. “Keep away!”
The aeshma hissed, turning its terrible gaze on the lone asha approaching it. Mykaela was close enough for the beast to swipe at her with an outstretched limb.
“Stop.” The asha raised her hand. The claw stopped in midair, as if hitting an invisible barrier. The aeshma reared back, and a quick brush against its thoughts told me it was confused, though still under Aenah’s control.
“What are you doing?” the Faceless hissed. Her willpower was extraordinary to retain her influence on the aeshma while fending off attacks by Polaire and Zoya.
I soon understood. Aenah was too firmly ingrained in the aeshma. To wrest control would take too much effort, too much time. But she was using minor spells to confuse and intimidate the daeva, which I had never thought to do before.
The aeshma hissed, runes of doubt and confusion coloring its mind. It stopped.
“Fight!” Aenah screamed.
Mykaela threw fear into its mind. It scrambled back, but the sand retained its hold. When the aeshma threw its head up and howled, exposing the fragile flesh of its underbelly, I called to the azi and we jumped.
Three rows of teeth tore into the daeva’s face and neck, the aeshma’s screams cutting off when we found its jugular. The blood flowed more earnestly, and the aeshma struggled and twitched. I fought off the urge to throw up at the thick clotting texture of it in my mouth and held on grimly until the jerking stilled and the daeva grew slack in our grip. Its limbs, no longer fighting, slid out of the quicksand with a horrific sucking sound.
Panting, pleased, I turned to smile weakly at Mykaela. I drew my knife—and drove it toward her chest.
“Tea!” Fox shoved my mentor out of the way, taking my attack through his arm. Stunned, I opened my mouth and found that I couldn’t speak. No sound came from my throat, even as my mind screamed.
“It’s quite easy to slay a beast.” Though she lost her daeva, Aenah was triumphant, having nailed a better prize. She clutched my protection stone in one hand. It glowed. “Can you do the same with your precious bone witch, Mykaela?”
“Let her go, Aenah.”
I set my own knife against my throat, feeling the sharpness against my skin.
“Not quite yet,” the Faceless purred, and the pressure against my neck increased. “Attempt to get inside my head, Mykaela, and I shall slit your precious ward’s throat.”
I could feel Aenah increasing her hold, using me as a gateway into the azi, who was already struggling, alarmed, as my thoughts crumbled away. I could feel its fear as the strings between us unraveled.
“Tea,” Kalen said quietly. The Heartshare rune spun on his hand; he had always been a quick study.
He released the spell, and I felt it fill me up. The knife dropped from my hand, and Aenah’s gloating expression changed to one of consternation as she clawed at my thoughts but found nothing as Kalen stole me away from her reach. Come to me, I heard, and then I was running, throwing myself into his arms.
That brief second was all it took. In her desperation, knowing that the tide of battle had turned against her, Aenah lashed out at the one other mind she still had control over. The azi screeched in pain, its three heads weaving in agony as the Faceless all but tore into its thoughts, brutal in her quest for dominance. The daeva thrashed wildly, and its tail lifted, the deadly spike whipping through the air straight at Mykaela.
One second was all it took. One second for Polaire’s Shield runes to flicker to life, one second too late for Mykaela to delve into the azi’s mind to pacify its rage. One second for Aenah to beat her there, the azi’s thoughts disappearing into darkness, away from mine.
The daeva’s tail pierced through Polaire’s shield. Trembling, the dark-haired asha’s spell wavered and disappeared, leaving her stock-still, eyes wide in surprise, as blood spread through the front of her shirt where the spike had torn through.
“No!” Mykaela sank to her knees as Polaire toppled, catching her best friend before she could hit the ground. Althy ran to them, heedless of the still-writhing azi. Under Kalen’s control, I watched in dazed disbelief as the healer fell to her knees beside the unmoving Polaire, Mykaela’s hands over the wound to staunch the flowing blood.
Aenah was panting, the exertion of controlling the azi sapping her strength, though she began to smile. Telemaine had snatched an underling’s sword and held it against Khalad’s throat, a warning not to intervene.
“So much for the vaunted…Polaire…” Aenah wheezed, still drunk on power.
“Tea,” Fox whispered.
But I was moving, my mind working from someplace far away, my thoughts scattered into the void. It was a sensation not unfamiliar to me from back when I had taken in darkrot at Daanoris and watched Usij die. But this felt different; I was quiet, filled with the cold detachment of fury and a horrible eagerness. Althy looked back at us, her own face tearstained, and slowly shook her head.
And then I could hear the sound of my mind snapping.
The princess’s regiment waited a couple of miles away, far enough to evoke a deceptive feeling of safety. I feared that the Heartforger and I would be regarded as prisoners of war, but Lord Fox had commanded the soldiers to treat us like honored guests.
Princess Inessa sprang to her feet, flinging her arms around her consort with a sob. “Why are they fighting?” She wept into his chest. “Where is Tea? Lady Mykaela?”
“Most of the elders have been blighted,” he told her soberly, and she recoiled in shock. “If Mykaela and the others fall, we must be ready.”
“If they fall…” she choked out, staring at him in horror.
“If I die, you and the empress are to return to Kion without delay. Take your honor guards and ride as hard as you can for the ships. I sent word for preparations to begin.”
“No!” She clutched at his arms. “I won’t leave you, Fox!”
“I have no choice, Inessa. But I will die in peace if your face is the last vision I see.”
She cried harder and refused to let go. The bone witch’s brother made no protest. The Heartforger paced the tent, but I remained seated, finding little reason to move. If Fox died, then it meant the Dark asha had fallen too and the battle was lost.
But an hour passed and then two. The sounds of battle faded, and lightning no longer leaped across the horizon. The princess clung to her lover the whole time.
The end did not come. Mistress Parmina approached us, but there was none of the spitfire arrogance she displayed in the Daanorian throne room. Her shoulders were slumped, as if in defeat. “The scouts have returned, Fox. It is done.”
“Then Tea is alive.” Hope returned to the man’s face, and the princess broke into fresh happy tears.
“But not without a price,” Mistress Parmina said. To my surprise, she lowered her head and, unabashedly, began to weep.
31