Chapter Thirty-Nine
Syla’s hedge disappears for good, and she bends over, hands on her knees, heaving air. Titus and I stand frozen, unsure what
to do.
Then his face turns stony, and he takes a step toward the lunarium.
“Wait!” I say.
He pauses. “I can’t let everyone die.”
“Of course not!” More screaming. A woman flees out the front door. I say, “The gloves. Use them to command the ghouljinn.”
“Unless Jaydeth has already swayed them.”
“If his magic worked on monsters, he wouldn’t need the gloves to command a dragon.”
Hope flashes in his eyes. “Bria, you’re brilliant. Syla, get to the preserve when you’ve regained some strength,” Titus says.
“We’ll find you there.”
“Let’s go.” I grab his hand. Together, we dash toward the lunarium.
We reach the open double doors, and the sight roots my feet to the ground and makes my mouth go dry, because it’s just like my raided inn: tables are toppled and wine has spilled everywhere, though it’s hard to know where the wine ends and blood begins.
Someone huddles on the floor, keening. Others stand spellbound, their eyes glazed with shock or maybe magical persuasion.
One man trips over a table leg as he tries to flee.
Nearby, a lamp has been knocked into a wall tapestry, and flames greedily consume the weave.
We’ve entered during a lull in the carnage. One ghouljinn is trapped beneath the overturned refreshment table, writhing and
hissing. I watch in horror as it extends a gleaming fingernail to the tile floor, scrapes up a bit of blood and brings it
to its mouth to suck noisily.
The other is in the middle of the floor, bent over the girl, Cypha. I refuse to look closely.
But the sight of the ghouljinn has knocked the memory of my inn from my mind, and I step inside, certain of what I must do.
“Talk to the ghouljinn,” I tell Titus. “I’ll distract the king.”
Trusting that he will comply, I stride through chaos toward the dais. The strengthening moongloam has erased the shadows,
and I see everything clearly this time. The potentat still slouches there, her face once again vacant. The king’s hand grips
her shoulder, while his murderous companion stands guard at his heel.
As I approach, the tip of his tongue peeks from the corner of his mouth, like he’s just been presented with a roasted pig
on a platter.
Cheerfully, I say, “I’ve come to claim a dance, my lord.”
His smile is unhurried and confident. “I knew you’d return to me.”
“And I’ve brought my friend, the one you were inquiring about.”
“I can see that.” He releases the potentat’s shoulder and steps down to the floor. He seems confident, unhurried. His companion follows, keeping exactly one stride behind his liege.
Ultimately, I must coax him away from the lunarium and the innocent people here. But first I must give Titus time to command
the ghouljinn.
He says, “You have sawdust on your gown.”
No sense denying it. “Yes.”
The king has removed his wine-stained shirt but did not replace it, leaving his chest bare beneath his blue velvet vest. His
amulet is now exposed.
He leans closer and says, “Remember, you are mine.”
My own amulet is like a hot poker at my sternum as I say, “I am yours.”
His smile is so satisfied that I want to knock it off his face.
Trying to appear besotted, I gaze up at him with wide eyes and say, “What does your amulet protect you from?” I know it’s
a risk. But I have to know.
“Ice cats,” he says. “No ice cat can kill me.”
“Ah, that makes sense,” I say truthfully. The gods gave us all some protection from each other, making it less likely there’d
be a repeat of Alamandron’s murder spree.
But the king’s eyes have narrowed with sudden suspicion; it was definitely a mistake to ask. He says, “I assume you have a
companion’s amulet? What does yours protect you from?”
I hope he doesn’t notice my split second of hesitation while I come up with a palatable lie. “It protects my limbs from strength.
I cannot be strangled, nor my bones broken, no matter how strong someone is.”
He nods. “That also makes sense. Can you be skewered with a sword? Your throat slit with a dagger?”
“Certainly.”
“Good to know.”
Something behind me crashes to the tile floor, followed by a scream. It takes everything in me to ignore it, to pretend to
be enchanted by this monster. Has Titus commanded the ghouljinn yet? I don’t dare look away to find out.
I ask, “Are we going to dance now?”
“First you must tell me where the horn and gauntlets are.”
This is what I’ve been waiting for. “I hid the horn in the preserve. I can show you.”
Once again he gives me that suspicious look. “Why are you and Titus here and not there?”
Oh, how the amulet burns. “Titus couldn’t bear to see people be hurt.”
“That boy is far too weak to be a king, much less a god. Are you worried I’ll hurt people?”
“I already know you will.” The body of the woman his lieutenant killed is behind me, but I see her clearly in my head—her
bright red brocade, her gaze that remained infatuated even after she suffered a mortal wound.
“Does Titus know you belong to me now?”
“I think he suspects.”
The potentat, who has been still and silent this whole time, rouses herself enough to catch my gaze and silently mouth, “Run.”
The king’s companion speaks. “My lord. The ghouljinn.” He draws his sword, as I whirl to see what he’s looking at.
Two glassy monsters charge the dais. Finally.
The companion steps in front of us. “Get His Majesty to safety,” he says, right before the ghouljinn are upon him.
I turn to flee, to allow the ghouljinn to take both these horrible men. But before I gain a single step, the king has grabbed
my forearm.
“I’ll protect you,” he says.
“Oh! Er . . . we’ll protect each other.” I once said something similar to Titus, and bile rises in my throat to think I’ve
sullied that moment.
The king’s hand is an inescapable vise. It forces me to face the ghouljinn while they grapple with his lieutenant, who swings
his sword gamely but is bleeding from hundreds of razor cuts. Jaydeth seems bored, simply waiting for it to be over.
“Aren’t you going to help him?” I ask.
“He has served his purpose,” he says.
I can’t bear to watch. Sickened, I search the ballroom for Titus. I’m desperate for reassurance, as though the mere sight
of his face will help me understand what to do next. I spot him kneeling beside Cypha. He’s healing her. Of course he is,
that sweet, foolhardy boy. I have to get him out of here before he Gift-starves.
“The ghouljinn should not have attacked us,” King Jaydeth says, startling me. “I left plenty of blood on the floor for them.”
They have finished with the lieutenant, who is a mess of scarlet and shredded flesh. They rise and begin to stalk toward us.
Their translucence has a pinkish tint now, after gorging on so much blood. I’m disgusted by them but not afraid. I’m sure Titus gave very specific instructions, leaving me and the potentat perfectly safe. The monster gripping my forearm, however, is another matter.
Please kill the king, I plead silently. Please. Maybe this will all be over soon. The ghouljinn will destroy Jaydeth, and we can fetch our dragon.
The king releases my arm. He takes a huge stride forward, grabs one ghouljinn by the neck, and sends it flying into the stone
wall with such force that it shatters into a thousand glittering specks. The other is tossed so high it crashes through the
glass ceiling. I barely cover my face in time as shards rain down on our heads. I don’t see where the ghouljinn lands.
Titus is wisely backing away from Cypha. I mouth, “Go, now,” and relief fills my lungs when he complies.
Calmly, as though destroying two ghouljinn in a split second was no exertion at all, Jaydeth says, “Your liege must be wearing
the gauntlets, to have commanded these monsters.” He wipes bloody palms on his pants.
“Yes,” I say.
“You said you hid them in the preserve.”
“I said I hid the horn in the preserve.”
His eyes narrow as he considers. “Yes, you did, didn’t you? For a moment I thought you had lied to me.”
“Never.”
“Show me where it is.”
“At once, my lord.”
I don’t dare glance back at the potentat as Jaydeth grabs my forearm again and forces me down the dais steps and toward the front door.
He pauses at the toppled refreshment table to grab a pastry off the floor and wipe it on his sleeve before shoving it into his mouth.
That show of strength surely cost him. Good.
Several people genuflect as we pass, still seeking his favor. They would do anything for him, protect him with their very
lives the way his lieutenant just did.
“That way,” I say, pointing eastward with my free hand. I don’t actually know where the preserve is, only that it lies near
the escarpment, outside palace grounds. It doesn’t matter. I just need to lure him away from the ball.
One woman tries to follow, but she is injured, and the king is dragging me at such a bruising pace that she can’t keep up.
The palace grounds of artfully arranged gravel and cultivated palms end at a high stone wall. We pass through an arched gate
into a wilder landscape, thick with tumbleweed, boulders, and short, spiky ferns. I glance around for Titus and Syla, but
I see no trace of them. They’re certainly nearby. Perhaps hiding behind a false bush.
Loudly, so they can overhear, I say, “Once we fetch the horn, then what?”
“Then we wait for Titus to rescue you, and I take the gauntlets. I hope he’s watching us right now, waiting for his moment.”
Terror stabs through me. The king could shatter Titus like he’s made of glass. I keep my voice blandly cheerful when I say,
“Then will you call a dragon? I’ve always wanted to see a dragon.”
“My dear, you will certainly see one tonight. Are we getting close?”
“Just a little farther.”
We walk in silence. The night is absent its usual chorus of crickets and frogs, likely due to moongloam that’s almost as bright as dawn.
It’s just the crunch of our footsteps as we put more distance between us and the palace.
The slippers Mehuda gave me are not up to the task of navigating gravel and shale, and if I survive this night, my feet will probably kill me tomorrow.
“Let her go,” comes a voice, so familiar and dear. The first time I heard it, I thought it sounded like thunder.
Titus and Syla walk through a boulder and face us from a distance. The boulder disappears. Syla holds the dragon-caller horn
in one hand. Our packs dangle from the other.
“Ah, there you are,” says the king. With his free hand, he reaches inside his vest, pulls out a dagger, and places it against
my throat. “Take off the gauntlets. Toss them here along with the horn, and I’ll let her live.”
“Walk away, and we’ll let you live,” Titus counters.
He and Syla should have left me. Called a dragon and flown safely away. Doesn’t he understand how powerful his father is?
How quickly he can close the distance between them? Did he not see his father shatter the ghouljinn into a thousand tiny pieces?
“My son, one of those gauntlets is rightly mine,” Jaydeth points out.
“Let her go,” Titus repeats.
“You really like this one, do you?” The dagger presses into my skin, making me gasp. Something wet trickles into the hollow
of my neck.
Titus’s face is agonized. He wants to save me. But he doesn’t want to kill anyone, much less his own father. And he doesn’t have to save me this time. Because I can save him.
“My lord,” I say, raising my hand to his knife arm, wrapping my fingers around it gently. Like a caress. “I am yours. You
may kill me if you like.” He won’t.
“That’s my girl,” he purrs in my ear. His voice turns my stomach. “That’s my very good girl. You see, my son? She’s mine now.”
The air around Titus begins to shimmer.
“That’s it,” the king says, the glee in his voice unmistakable. “Try your best, son.”
“No,” I whisper, tightening my grip on his arm.
He yanks me against him, making the dagger bite deeper. “What did you just say?”
I reach for my own thread of magic, rich blue like a deep mountain lake, sparkling with promise.
“I said, ‘Freeze, you smug, sausage-brained son of a banshee,’ ” as I pour everything I have into his forearm.
It’s more magic than I’ve ever called on, and I keep calling and calling, even when the world teeters around me, even when
he shrieks. When the dagger’s bite becomes unbearable, I reach for yet more. When he falls to the ground, taking me with him,
landing heavy like a stone statue, I’m still reaching, but finally there is nothing left. My thread is gone, darkened like
doused coals.