Chapter 34 #2
We’re going to die here. Lab had defeated Raksh, an immortal entity who survived being trapped in a chest underwater and drove a tavern of criminals to madness with a clap of his hands.
She was so dangerous the peris and the marid—creatures who flew to the heavens, who ruled the oceans—had only been able to cage her, not kill her.
Dalila and I had made a brutal personal enemy out of a sorceress wielding an artifact that thrived off vengeance.
We were going to die, my crew was going to die, all of us no doubt under such ghastly circumstances that not even Sarilaglag’s vilest murderers could’ve dreamt them up.
I had nothing to give Lab. I was a curiosity, a supposed assassin who apparently didn’t even know the real reason I’d been sent to Khatti Ugal.
Well, no, I suppose that wasn’t true. I did have one thing I could offer: that dreadful answer. The ludicrous scheme with my hair, my reckless gamble that might slowly be eroding her reign.
For a moment, I wavered, still trying to parse a way out of this.
To shamefully find an excuse to save my people, to save myself.
But then I remembered the grief-stricken wails of the sibling shield bearers and their frantic fight to end their false lives.
The mother with her shrouded children in her lap, her trembling fingers reaching to undo their clasps.
The servants who’d had their voices, their agency, their very ability to weep stolen away and still managed to quietly help me—to leave a path to the tunnel, to give me my weapons, a warning.
Orinth. A true friend, a good woman who’d been viciously punished by her own queen. And yet, for every Orinth, might there be an Arno? An innocent Khatti Ugalan who would have a better future without a despot looming over him?
In the end, the math was grim if unavoidable. An entire city’s worth of souls both living and enslaved who might have a chance of surviving and seizing their freedom. All it would cost was my silence.
And the lives of everyone in my crew.
God, forgive me. But perhaps I could give the queen a closer target upon which to spend her wrath and with some of her vengeance sated, she’d let a few of my men—those deemed “useful”—survive long enough to see a free Khatti Ugal.
I spat in her face.
Lab jerked back, looking incredulous, and I threw myself at the magical binds still constricting me. But I got only close enough to brush the spindle before her magic tightened again, holding me even tauter.
“What a waste.” Lab flicked my cheek with Khayzur’s useless feather, like someone admiring a warhorse with a broken leg they were about to put down.
“You know, I was briefly tempted by you, Captain. With your abilities under my control, you might be the kind of warlord that shapes fleets, that preys on empires. But those are the sort of people that I hunt.”
Behind her, Dalila writhed against her bonds, a moan slipping her bound mouth.
But Lab’s focus stayed on me. “Perhaps it is time to call your crew back; I know how badly you wish to see them. Maybe if I transform them one by one, force you to eat their roasted flesh, you shall find your tongue.”
Dalila spat out of chunk of the root that had been clasped against her mouth. She must have been chewing at it while the queen and I argued, the effort leaving her lips a gory mess.
“Let . . . let me s-speak,” she rasped out.
The queen snorted. “Why? What lie does the Mistress of Poisons plan to offer now?”
Dalila sucked for air, her cheeks flushing nearly as red as the blood running from her mouth. “Help you,” she gasped, clearly struggling to continue breathing and talking at the same time. “—what she did.”
“And what would you know of it?” Lab retorted. “I thought the two of you had turned on each other. ‘I’ve never been a member of the crew, not really,’” the queen mimicked, obviously repeating something Dalila had told her. “Why should I believe she’d confide anything to you?”
“Because . . .” Dalila wheezed loudly again, clawing at the root around her throat. “Please. I-I cannot breathe—”
With a dismissive wave of Lab’s hand, the root unraveled from Dalila’s body. My friend sprawled to the ground.
“Speak then,” Lab commanded. “You have wasted enough of my time. Why should I believe anything you say?”
Trembling, Dalila pushed back to sit on her heels. Her face was a churn of emotion. Regret, uncertainty, grief . . . but she answered, “Because I was going to stay.”
The queen tensed but only for a moment before sneering.
“Another falsehood upon a sea of them.” She jerked her head at Dalila’s belt, abandoned in the grass.
“That was for her, wasn’t it? Your sad story of being poisoned .
. . I did find it peculiar how preoccupied you were with your captain’s health while yours was apparently so dire.
” She shrugged. “But it kept you distracted.”
“I was not the only one distracted.” The queen snarled but Dalila pressed on, “I know you heard me. I know you hear me. I intended to stay. That is why you should listen to me, why I didn’t try to escape with her. Because I prayed that if I threw myself on your mercy—”
“What?” Lab challenged. “I would forgive you?”
“Yes.” Dalila rose up on her knees, beseeching, and Lab drew closer, seemingly despite herself.
“I could have fled to the forest with Amina as soon as you gave me the belt; slipped away from the ceremony, been gone before you realized it. I probably should have,” she added, swallowing obvious remorse.
“But I was still trying to find a way to fix things. To settle my debt with her. To keep my promise to you.”
Lab stared at her. Her expression was hard, wounded and vengeful all at once, compared to the open pleading in Dalila’s face.
“Your promise?” Lab asked. “And which lie would that be?”
Dalila’s gaze was only for the queen. “It wasn’t a lie,” she whispered. “I wanted—I want—a new life in Khatti Ugal. So let me try and fix whatever damage Amina has done. Let her leave. And then let us start again, in a mended queendom, with no more falsehoods between us.”
There was nothing but heartfelt earnestness in Dalila’s face, a wounded vulnerability I’d never seen.
It seemed to soften even Lab, who again drifted closer to Dalila, seemingly torn between the ancient drive for vengeance animating her core and the pleading woman on her knees, near enough to touch.
Except Dalila wasn’t an ordinary woman; she hadn’t been one for a very long time. She had been trained by the Banu Sasan. And when the queen opened her mouth, a decision made, the true assassin in the garden sprang.
Faster than my eye could track, Dalila had thrust one of her small blades where Lab’s thigh and hip met. She jerked it out and did it again and then again, brutal ragged punctures that ripped open the vulnerable artery, drenching them both in blood.
Lab staggered, her eyes wide with genuine shock, but Dalila didn’t hesitate as the queen stumbled. Instead, she pulled Lab down, burying the blade in her throat as I cried out, terrified for my friend. The magic holding me in place collapsed and I crumpled to the ground.
Lurching back to my feet, I took in the scene before me.
Dalila was cradling the dying queen, blooding pooling beneath them.
One of her hands still held the knife in place, professional to the end, while her other arm was hooked around Lab’s waist, a gruesome embrace.
My friend wore no mask now. There was determination in her eyes, yes; the grim resolution to carry out yet another murderous assignment in a lifetime of killing.
But also anguish. A wrenching misery that tore at my heart, displacing any relief, any victory I might have felt. Indeed, I was so shocked that I didn’t notice one of Lab’s shuddering hands moving erratically toward a fold in her gown. A dark wooden point emerged . . .
“Dalila, watch out!” I cried.
But it was too late. Lab shoved the bloody spindle into Dalila’s hands.
My friend reacted swiftly; I’ll give her that.
She jerked back like she’d been stung, instantly dropping both the spindle and the queen’s body.
However, she hadn’t been fast enough. I didn’t make it two steps when she started screaming, clutching her skull as though it might be wrenched apart.
“Dalila!” The howls coming from my friend were awful, her eyes squeezed shut against the pain. Frantic, I glanced around wildly, looking for something—anything—that might help.
My gaze landed on her belt. It was warded against harm, no? I raced for the belt, snatching it up and turning back around.
My throat closed.
I gasped for air but could not reach my neck.
Could not move, my limbs held as though pinned.
It was the same thing Lab had done to me after my trial with the griffins, but it was Dalila now staring at me with Lab’s hatred, her familiar brown gaze bloodshot and filled with the witch queen’s ancient fury.
And then the pressure released.
“Raksh,” Dalila choked out. Her eyes darted around as though she were searching her mind, searching the queen’s memories. “Get Raksh.” She inhaled sharply, all the air rushing toward her like a wave gathering momentum, and then bellowed, “RUN!”
A surge of energy punched me in the chest like a lance, sending me sprawling toward the path. I rolled to my feet, the cottage bursting into flames. The nearest goats were shrieking, the piles of wool catching alight.
I couldn’t leave Dalila. I couldn’t stay. So instead, I finally did what she had begged me to do since we arrived.
I trusted her. And as her screams echoed behind me, I ran for the dungeons.