White smoke curled from the amulet, and the shansen inhaled it through his nostrils. When I looked at him next, he was not a man at all.
But a demon—a tiger with bone-white fur and glistening black eyes—that lunged for Emperor Khanujin.
CHAPTER SEVEN
He moved in flashes, faster than my eye could follow, lethal and precise. Everywhere he danced struck a tempest of blood and death.
Chopsticks clattered against porcelain bowls, and teacups shattered on the ground. Furniture cracked, or was it the sound of bones breaking? I could not tell. My vision went in and out of focus, the flashing red of swiveling lanterns hurting my eyes.
I should have run, yet I could not. I could not do anything but stare at the shansen’s cinder-black eyes, knowing, with a shiver, that someday mine would be just as empty. Just as soulless.
A platter of steamed fish flew over me, and I ducked, taking cover under one of the banquet tables.
Three servants already hid there, teeth chattering and necks shiny with sweat. They held each other, covering one another’s ears to block the clamor of the screaming guests and praying for survival.
As the air grew pungent with salt and iron, nausea gripped my throat, thickening until I wished I could vomit. I tried to focus on the flying food instead of the falling bodies. There were too many to count.
A minister dropped beside me, his bright blue robes ripped at the torso. The servants jumped away in horror, but I pulled the minister under the table for protection.
A dark blossom of blood seeped through the silk of his robes, turning even the gold-knotted buttons crimson and staining the jade plaques on his belt, which many of the ministers wore—believing the jade protected them from illness and ill luck.
I started to press my hand against his wound to stop the bleeding, but he grabbed my hands. His lips were already graying, final words dying on his breath. It was then I noticed my skin was colder than his, colder than death.
His mouth parted, and he spluttered sounds. “H-help me,” he pleaded. He gripped my sleeve, pulling it over his face as if its magic might resurrect him.
I pressed a hand to his chest and gently uncurled his fingers from my sleeve. But he had already passed into the next world.
Remorse clotted my throat as I closed his eyes. I started to murmur a prayer for him, but the table shook, the servants shouting that it was about to collapse.
I crawled out quickly and backed against the wall. The emperor’s guards were still attacking the shansen, and one staggered my way, bloody claw marks etched deep into his chest. When I leaned onto my side to get out of his way, something hard hit my thigh.
My dagger!
I pulled it out of my pocket, my hands curling over the walnut hilt.
“Jinn,” I whispered to the weapon, quickly unsheathing it. The blade’s meteorite edge began to glow a faint gray.
I held the dagger close. I’d only used its power once—against Bandur on the Isles of Lapzur. Gods, I hoped it would work tonight.
Springing to my feet, I shouted, “Lord Makangis! You’ve missed me!”
He turned to pounce on me, taking the entire width of the banquet hall in three fleet leaps. He would have crushed my bones with his heft, but his hind legs stumbled at the last moment and he landed farther from me than he should have.
Surprise flitted across his beastly features, and as he snarled in confusion, I raised my dagger to show my strength. The power of the meteorite made him balk.
He’s not a demon, I realized, stunned. His eyes were black, not red like Bandur’s—or mine. His wounds bled not smoke but bright human blood. What was he?
Whatever he was, I swung at him. Even on four legs, he stood taller than I, so I had to jump to attack his neck. The meteorite grazed his skin, and he let out a terrible roar.
His claws swiped at me, and blood trickled down my arm.
I felt no pain, only anger, and I drove my weapon into the shansen’s ribs. He writhed and twisted, his face contorting until it was more man than tiger.
Finally, the shansen stood in front of me. But before the emperor’s soldiers could capture him, he pulled up the hood of his fur-lined cloak and shouted, “Gyiu’rak!”
A terrible gale erupted, and from a storm of wind and ash, the shadow of an enormous tiger emerged behind the warlord, folding over him.
The shansen’s demon.
It gazed at me for a moment that seemed to stretch for eternity. Its eyes were red as the cinnabar used to tint A’landi’s prized scarlet lacquer, so depthless they had no reflection, no soul.
Then I blinked, and the shansen was gone.
An eerie silence fell over the banquet hall. A few red lanterns still swung from the rafters, round shadows flickering as ash settled.
Heart pounding, I lowered my dagger and scanned the room. Dozens of servants and ministers and guests were dead, many more wounded. The emperor himself cowered behind a broken screen, the corpses of his bodyguards strewn about him.
He pushed the bodies aside and stood, his robes bloody and streaked with soot, unharmed.
I needed to go—I needed to leave this graveyard before anyone realized what I had done.
Ducking into a shadow, I sheathed my dagger and slipped out of the hall into the night.
* * *
• • •
I was not fool enough to believe that the emperor would reward me for protecting him against the shansen. Now that he had seen I could wield magic, he would never let me leave his side.
I tore off the dress of the moon, and my body gave a violent shudder. All of me ached, and an agonizing heat buzzed through my fingertips as I hurriedly gathered my things.
The tattered threads of my enchanted carpet poked out from under my bed. It seemed a lifetime ago that I’d woven it with just two bundles of blue and red yarn, only half believing it would ever fly. Now I understood the costs of magic better. Like me, my rug didn’t have much time left.
I seized it, along with my letters from Baba and my sketchbook. I didn’t know where I would go, but I didn’t have much time.
The only pause I allowed myself was to drink a cup of water to soothe my parched throat. A sudden coldness gripped my heart when the candles on my table flickered, most of them snuffed by an eerie wind.
But what wind? All my windows were shuttered.
Then I saw the wolf lurking at my door. His name boiled out of my throat:
“Bandur.”
The demon entered and leaned against my wall, paws scraping the floor. “The power is irresistible, isn’t it?”
My hand slid behind my back for my dagger, gripped the hilt. “Get out of here.”