Chapter 15
AMEIRAH
Snap.
I didn’t know what the sound was at first. I looked around myself, the graceful, flat-roofed buildings familiar, the canvas market stalls tugging at my memory.
Snap.
Snap.
The sound came from below me. My movements sluggish with confusion, I frowned at the ground beneath my riding boots.
When the shapes resolved into a clear image, I lurched back with my heart galloping in my chest. The road I walked along was lined with bones.
Pearly fae bones, pickled clean by sharp teeth.
Wyvern screams came from the sky above, and I shuddered. I knew where I was. Wyfell. The market where we were first attacked by those dark wyverns, where fire razed people to ashes, the scent of burning flesh so strong that it coated the back of my throat now and made me retch.
I stumbled back, more bones crunching, breaking.
“Varidian?”
But unlike my last dream, I was here alone, and as a shadow passed overhead, the underbelly of a wyvern directly above me and fire building in the creature’s dark throat, I suspected this was no dream at all.
It was a nightmare.
I was ripped out of sleep so violently that I could still smell burning skin and hair, my ears full of the snap of bones as I ran, desperately trying to outrace the wyverns whose breath spelled my death.
I flinched at a clear snap, but the woolly sensation in my head cleared enough for me to realise it was someone rapping at the door.
“Ameirah,” a vaguely familiar voice called, sending my heart into a frantic race.
I climbed out of bed and checked my bracelet was in place, its spikes a weapon I wouldn’t hesitate to unleash. I grabbed the dagger I’d stolen from Kamaal’s training room as a precaution.
“Who is it?” I asked, scanning the room to ensure all was as I’d left it. The balcony proved empty, too.
“Khalid,” he replied quietly, making me startle before the doors.
“Khalid,” I echoed, staring at the door in disbelief. “Khalid Jaouhari?”
“Just open the door,” he sighed, and he certainly sounded like my insufferable cousin, whose leading personality trait was a remarkable love for war stories. I knew he was often in the capital, but I didn’t expect our paths to cross.
“Did my father send you?” I asked, approaching the door as if it was primed to explode.
Khalid sighed again. “Just let me in. We don’t have much time. Or any time, as it happens.” After a pause, he quietly added, “Kamaal sent me.”
I hardly trusted the prince with my life, but I did trust him to an extent, and we seemed to be on the same page regarding the king and what that bastard did to Raheema today.
I opened my mouth to warn Khalid I was armed, but why should I give him prior warning?
The door creaked as I opened it a crack, and then Khalid was pushing it wider, forcing me to retreat two steps as he strode inside.
He left the door open, which I supposed was a good sign.
It was a shame all the other signs were bad.
“Do us both a favour and be quiet,” Khalid greeted in a tone that made me want to sink my blade between his ribs.
Well, he certainly was my cousin. There was no mistaking that long face, drawling voice, and sneering nose.
His eyes were Naila’s eyes; my heart skipped, grief bursting to life in my chest followed by rage at what she did.
“The king’s guard will come for you in minutes,” Khalid said, jolting me hard.
“What?” I hissed. “Because Raheema won the duel?”
“Because—does it matter?” He pursed his lips. Gave me his signature look down his long nose. “No one will be able to reach you within the council chamber—”
“The council chamber?”
“Keep your voice down,” he snapped, scanning the hallway beyond the open door. Open, I supposed, to make this look like a harmless meeting between cousins and not… what? A conspiracy? Treason? I eyed my cousin, not recognising him at all. “Lord, you have no survival instincts at all—”
“Says the man alone in a room with me,” I cut in, my voice like silk and shadows. I wiggled my bare fingers at him, and he paled a little.
“We don’t know what he wants with you, only that it cannot be good. The entire council has convened, but they’re locked tight—not even a missive has arrived or departed to hint at their purpose.”
My view of Khalid shifted right there. His language, his tone, the urgent gleam in his eyes … they were that of a stranger. “Are you working with them? Those dark clergy and their wyverns? Were you behind the attack at the Red Star?”
“Do you hear the sheer stupidity that leaves your mouth?” he spat. “No, obviously I am not, and I was not behind the attack. I came to warn you, but clearly you’re beyond any semblance of common sense.”
“What does the king want with me?” I asked, ignoring that remark.
“What does he want with anyone?” Khalid’s mouth flattened into a grim line. “Power. Be careful. Do as he says, no matter the price. That’s the message Kamaal sent for you. Play along. Stay alive.”
I shook my head, shivering now as cold crept through me. “But—my power is death.”
Khalid slipped back into the corridor. I hissed his name, but he gave me a stern look that seemed to echo the message Kamaal sent and closed the door between us.
I whipped around to face my room, trembling harder. “What the fuck?”
I ransacked every drawer and cabinet for more weapons, changing into my crimson leathers with what little time I had, but there were no more knives, no daggers, nothing except the one I possessed and my bracelet.
I slid the knife into the back of my waistband, hiding it beneath my jacket. And I waited.
Seconds—mere seconds after I faced the door, a heavy fist pounded on it. I gave it a minute, trying to school my expression into surprise and fear, and let the trembling move to my entire limbs. I couldn’t halt it anyway.
“The king demands an audience with you, Lalla Ameirah,” the hulking guard dressed in Saber purple said the moment I opened the door and gazed up at him with wide eyes. Fear I didn’t entirely need to fake, only amplify.
Be careful. Do as he says, no matter the price.
I curved my shoulders inward and followed the guard, even though I felt like a criminal sent to the gallows.
Play along. Stay alive.