Chapter 52
AMEIRAH
“We’re not a threat,” Nabil calmly told the guards, smoothing the edges of his usually cutting voice, because my head was still swimming and I was in danger of falling down at any moment. “We were trying to get home. My friend needs medical assistance. We’re here by mistake.”
I squinted my vision into focus, and my heart clattered again when I saw how many guards there were: eight on either side of us, blocking any way off the platform.
They were a sea of pearl-white uniforms, gleaming gold chains, and wings tipped with what at first seemed like jewellery—solid gold cuffs to cover the fragile edges—but must be protective armour.
I saw the details of their faces between blinks, my focus fading as my strength fled.
“You reek of the dark world,” the guard closest to us said.
He was in his forties, and had dark hair slicked back from his face, a cleanly shaven jaw, and bright violet eyes.
He looked noble, more like a prince than a guard, but his voice was every bit the foreboding soldier I’d expect.
“You may look fae, but their magic is capable of much that we don’t know. ”
“Shall we take them for questioning, or execute them?” a woman asked from the other side, deferring to the princely man who first spoke. He must be their commander, which meant his word would damn or spare us.
“We’re not Zalaam,” Nabil snapped, decidedly less in control.
He tightened his grip on me, as if he’d jump back through the gate and take me with him.
It was our only option, I realised, if the guards drew their weapons.
I saw them through blurs of dizziness: thin, extremely sharp swords made of pure silver, the handle covered by delicate threads of silver in a half-sphere to protect the wielder’s hand.
“We just killed a bunch of them,” I added to Nabil’s declaration, my voice surprisingly slurred. “You’re welcome.”
“Where do you come from?” the princely guard demanded, not advancing but not backing off either.
“Ithanys,” Nabil replied tartly.
“And here,” I added, swearing when the next wave of dizziness was extreme enough that I slumped into Nabil, murmuring, “Sorry,” when my elbow clattered his ribs.
“Here,” the female guard repeated, heavy on doubt. I tried to look at her, but the world was flickering and dark. “Meaning you’re Cirestian?”
“Her mother was Cirestian,” Nabil said when it was clear I couldn’t string together a reply. “Her father, a piece of shit from Ithanys. Neither of us is corrupted by Zalaam magic, but if you don’t let us go, our home is going to be overrun by it.”
“Tell them about the queen,” I mumbled, “and Mingyue.”
My words triggered an unmistakable ring of multiple swords being drawn. I flinched into Nabil, trying to open my eyes—when did they close?—and stand on my own two feet.
“Thanks, Ameirah,” Nabil hissed under his breath, backing up another two steps towards the window, the gate. “Amazing input. Extremely helpful.”
“Welcome,” I slurred.
“Weapons down,” the princely guard shouted, the sudden spike of volume making me cringe as pain cracked through my head. “Laoshi, I need you to have Hsuiyang at the manor by the time we get there. Tell her to expect a severely depleted young woman on the verge of burn out.”
“Not burned,” I argued. “Fire doesn’t burn me.”
“Zhijan, you’re in charge of guarding the gate,” he went on, ignoring me. “Haoran, Ruina: with me.”
“Does this mean you’re not going to execute us?” Nabil asked, but unfriendly, like he was still ready to fight every one of them.
“I don’t execute my family,” the guard retorted, matching Nabil’s tone. In a battle of unfriendliness, it would be tough to call a victor. “Ameirah, can you hear me?”
“Yup.”
The unfriendly bastard laughed. “My name is Jiang Liwei, and I’m your cousin.”
Oh. My eyes began to burn, the strain too complete for me to shield against my emotions. So there were more family members. Was he one of the people in those paintings in the manor?
“Can I touch you? I have a basic healing ability.”
“No fucking chance,” Nabil barked.
“Be nice,” I chided him, succeeding in opening my eyelids a crack this time. The glare had left the princely guard’s face—Liwei’s face— and he peered at me with a contemplative expression. I fluttered my hand in his direction. “You can touch.”
“You hurt her, and I’ll turn your skin inside out,” Nabil breathed. “And that is nothing compared to what her husband will do when he finds you.”
“I’m shaking in my boots,” Liwei drawled, his dry palm rasping over mine.
A rush of strength hit me in the next moment, allowing me to stand straighter, to open my eyes, to stare at the man who called himself my cousin.
“That’ll only last a few minutes,” he warned me.
“But there’s a healer ready to repair the deeper damage if you’ll join me at the manor. ”
“No, thank you,” Nabil said, pulling me back a step.
I turned to look at him, silently pleading. “They might be able to help us.”
His expression turned flat, irritated. “They might stab us in the back.”
“Only you,” Liwei input with a little smile that did not help matters. “As for help, you’ll have to get permission from our matriarch.”
“But—” I couldn’t look at him when I said, “The queen killed Mingyue. I was there.”
“I know,” Liwei replied, with sympathy that caught me off guard. “But our matriarch didn’t die that day. The guards reached her in time to save her. And by now she’ll have heard that you returned, and want to speak with you.”
My stomach tangled up. She must be furious. She must hate me for running away. But I wouldn’t walk away from my family a second time.
“I’ll come with you,” I agreed, and glanced to Nabil. “You’re not going to abandon me now, are you?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, bared his canines. “Lead the way. Just know, I’m accompanying you under protest.”
“Noted.”