Chapter 45 #2
‘And third,’ Zahvik said, drawing attention back to him, ‘you will return to the trade agreement signed by your father before his death. All embargoes and restrictions will be lifted. Ships will once again sail from your harbour under the Emperor’s protection.
’ He fixed Tariq with a stare. ‘Failure to accept these terms will result in your removal from the position. The Emperor will select a new ruler for Gruisea in your stead and show your people what proper governance looks like.’ He blinked.
‘And he will not hesitate in making examples of those who resist.’
The soldiers they had brought with them from the beach were all looking at Tariq, waiting for his reaction. The next few seconds passed in silence. The only sound was the shallow breaths of the guards lining the walls.
Aisha slowly reached for Safiya’s sleeve. When her sister looked at her, she whispered, ‘Watch. Don’t look away—no matter what.’
Safiya’s eyes narrowed in question, then relaxed with understanding. Aisha’s fingers enclosed her sister’s hand, and she went hot, then cold, as she welcomed the first vision…
Holy warriors poured into the room, settling into position. The first clash rang out, deafening as the space turned to disorder.
Air rushed back into Aisha’s lungs as she returned to the room.
‘You will not dictate terms in my home,’ Tariq was saying.
Aisha stepped closer to him. ‘Soldiers. Fifty or so. They’ll enter from both doors.’
It took him a second to realise what she was doing. He flicked his gaze to her shaking hands before saying to his men, ‘Eyes on the doors.’
Irritation flashed on Zahvik’s face. ‘I am warning you—’
Aisha didn’t hear the rest, because she took Safiya’s hand once more and disappeared into the storm that was her mind, determined to remain in it for as long as she could.
Her vision blurred, and her pulse roared in her ears.
The fight unfolded ahead of her. She saw Tariq with his sword raised, and the glint of a dagger arcing towards his exposed side.
The image fell away as she returned with a gasp.
Warriors were now flooding into the room, exactly like her vision. The guards lining both walls burst back to life, snatching up the weapons on the ground and joining the fight. They needed the numbers.
Safiya led Aisha away from the fighting, pressing them both up against the opposite wall.
Aisha watched Tariq carefully until she recognised the moment coming. ‘Dagger on your left,’ she called to him.
He spun, sword flashing just in time to catch the strike. Blades crashed, then Tariq shoved the warrior back and cut him down with a single brutal stroke.
This was how it continued, Aisha holding on to her sister as visions slammed her.
‘Duck!’ she cried.
Tariq dropped as a sword whooshed over his head, embedding in the column behind him. The king thrust his sword upwards.
In her next vision, Kaidon was there, and there were even more Gruisean soldiers in the room. She saw him lift his sword to deliver a blow, unaware of the spear headed for his spine.
Her temples pounded as she came back to the room. The floor tilted beneath her feet, but she held on, one hand flattened against the wall, the other clutching her sister.
‘Kaidon’s on his way,’ she called to Tariq. ‘Hold on.’
He had no other choice.
After what felt like minutes, but was probably only seconds, the door flew open, and Kaidon and his men joined the fight. Aisha released a shaky breath.
‘Thank the gods,’ Safiya said.
Aisha watched Kaidon this time, recognising the exact moment he turned his back to the enemy, the exact angle of her vision.
‘Kaidon, behind you!’
Kaidon twisted around and, to Aisha’s astonishment, caught the spear that was about to strike him. He tore it from the warrior’s hands, then, with a roar, drove it through the man’s chest. He returned to fighting before the man had even hit the floor.
‘Aisha,’ Safiya said, her voice full of concern. ‘Your eyes are bloodshot.’
‘Don’t look away,’ Aisha said, grabbing her sister’s hand once more.
She saw sunlight flashing off blades, men shouting and crying out. Zahvik stepped up to Farrah, fisting her hair as he drew a blade from within his robe. The steel gleamed as he lowered it to her throat.
A scream tore from Aisha’s chest as she returned to the room.
Safiya grabbed hold of her. ‘Your nose is bleeding.’
Aisha barely heard her. She looked around for Tariq and found him fighting for his life in the corner. Pulling free of Safiya’s hold, she stumbled forward.
‘Where are you going?’ Safiya shouted.
Aisha couldn’t form words and walk at the same time. She continued forwards, flinching at the cries of men as she passed by them. She fixed her gaze on Farrah.
It happened just as she had seen.
Zahvik didn’t like that he was losing. He grabbed the queen by her hair, pulling her head back as he reached inside his cloak. Farrah’s eyes widened as she realised what was happening.
Somehow, Aisha found it in her to run. It was sloppy, but it got her to where she needed to be.
With no weapon and no real plan, she threw herself at the sectarian with all the strength she had left, colliding with his side.
Down he went, not one god willing to soften his fall as he collided with the floor.
Of course, she went down with him, landing beside him with her face mere inches from his.
The fighting seemed to fade into the background, but not because of a vision. Aisha was a girl again, standing in a town square in Slevaborg. Acrid smoke filled her nostrils as she watched the flames consume her mother. Zahvik was unaffected by her screams.
Aisha lay frozen on the cold marble floor, her body present but her mind trapped in the memory of her mother’s death. Zahvik’s eyes bored into hers as he lifted the dagger still in his hand. Aisha didn’t have the strength to stop him. The steel glinted above her, and she waited.
A shadow fell across them, and the dagger was kicked clean from Zahvik’s hand, landing some distance away and skidding across the marble. Tariq towered over them, sword in hand and eyes ablaze. The muscles in his arm knotted as he raised his weapon, his murderous gaze fixed on Zahvik.
‘No!’ Aisha shouted, the word coming out hoarse. She raised a trembling hand, palm open to Tariq. She could feel blood dripping from her nose and ears as she struggled to breathe. ‘Not like this.’
At first, Tariq appeared confused, but then his features softened with understanding. Lowering his weapon, he stepped back, his chest rising and falling sharply. ‘Get him out of here,’ he instructed the two soldiers who appeared on either side of him.
Zahvik was dragged across the floor and disappeared from sight.
The clash of steel dulled to cries of surrender as Gruisean soldiers forced the last of the warriors to their knees. Sweat and blood were all Aisha could smell, the floor slick with it.
Safiya appeared, dropping to her knees. ‘What the hell was that?’
Aisha’s eyes met Farrah’s as Tariq went over to remove the gag from his mother’s mouth and untie her hands. They stared at each other, two women stripped bare by terror, exhaustion, and the things they had nearly lost.
In that stare was an understanding deeper than words could ever carry.