My cloth bird had found him! Starlight shimmered over its wings as it shot up into the sky, making its way back to me, asleep in Master Longhai’s shophouse.
But then, the stars began to shatter. The ground shuddered, swallowing the trees and the mountains and the moon. Out of the dark chasm flew shadows with charcoal eyes and cloudy white hair.
Sentur’na.
My cloth bird pierced the crowd, wings flapping at the ghosts to fend them off. But there were too many. They surrounded my bed, skeletal arms outstretched. Their fingers circled my neck, squeezing away the last of my breath, and my pendant began to blacken….
“Wake up!” my bird shouted at me, suddenly able to speak. “Wake up!”
* * *
• • •
“Maia, wake up!”
I jolted upright on the bed, breathing hard.
A warm hand rested on my shoulder. “Breathe,” Ammi said, sitting on the edge of my bed. “Breathe.”
My heart pounded wildly in my chest. “What…what…”
“You were shouting in your sleep.” My friend’s eyes shone with concern.
“Just a bad dream,” I said shakily.
“You’ve been having a lot of bad dreams.”
“What did I shout?”
Ammi let go of my shoulder. She looked tired, her blankets half tossed onto the ground. I must have disturbed her rest.
“You were speaking in a language I didn’t understand. It sounded like someone was trying to kill you. In the end you kept shouting one word.”
“One word?” I whispered, even though I already knew.
Shadows folded out of the candlelight, and Ammi’s face blurred.
Sentur’na.
I could still hear the voices in my head, relentlessly calling for me, Come back to us.
The wooden ridges of my amulet scraped against my skin, rough and warm, clashing with the cold that clenched my insides. My nail dug into my pendant, trying to pry open the crack to let some of Amana’s power seep out and silence the voices.
No. I forced my hand away from the pendant. That’s what Bandur wants. He wants me to rely on the dresses. He wants them to become corrupted, like me—
“What’s that?” Ammi asked, interrupting my thoughts. “Can I look at it?”
No, I wanted to balk, but I forced myself to pass it to her.
Ammi held the pendant to the light, so the glass crack in the center caught the glint of the sun.
“I’ve never seen anything like this!” she exclaimed. “Where did you get it?”
I wasn’t listening. My throat had closed up like I was being strangled. White-hot barbs of fire pricked the corners of my eyes, which burned redder than ever before.
“Maia!” Someone grabbed my shoulders. “Maia, are you all right?”
I jerked away. “Don’t touch me,” I snarled.
“I’m sorry—” The girl beside me let go. I looked up at her round face, her kind but frightened eyes. “Maia?”
Maia? I backed away, confusion roiling in my gut. That name sounded familiar. Her face looked familiar. Why couldn’t I remember?
Demons devour you piece by piece. Memory by memory. Until you are nothing.
When I looked at the girl again, her white teeth gleamed in the candlelight, fangs protruding through her parted lips and gray fur bristling over her skin.
Bandur.
I slammed him against the window. The iron latticework shuddered behind his back, and he let out a cry of pain. I dug my nails into his arms, sinking through his fur into his flesh.
“Maia!” he squealed at me. “Maia, please! Stop! You’re hurting me!”
He wasn’t fighting back, but I knew better than to trust Bandur’s words. Behind the whimpers and the scarlet eyes thick with pain, he was leering at me—he had my amulet!
“Give it back,” I rasped.
Bandur’s eyes widened in fear. “Here.”
I threw the amulet’s chain over my neck and backed into the corner of our room, breathing hard. It hurt as if someone had ripped my heart from my chest. But why? This had never happened before.
Because it is your demon’s amulet, I could hear my demon voice explain gleefully. And inside, the power of the moon and the stars. Once your pledge to Bandur has been fulfilled, the dresses too will be consumed by darkness.
The figure I had mistaken for Bandur slumped, whimpering on the ground, blood trickling down her arm. The shadow of a wolf danced along the wall beside her, baring its crooked fangs, a deep chuckle rumbling out of its belly.
My knees buckled. Everything snapped back into focus.
Ammi. I’d just attacked Ammi.
“Gods,” I whispered, crawling toward my friend.
She shrank from me and wouldn’t look me in the eyes.
Now she knew why they burned red.
I lifted Ammi gently and brought her back to her bed. I knelt beside her. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
“It…it was an accident. I’m not hurt.”
An accident. A lump rose in my throat, for it had been no such thing, and we both knew it. I was getting worse; Bandur was playing tricks on my mind, and I couldn’t tell what was real and what was not.
Shakily, I rose to my feet. I didn’t trust myself to help her. Didn’t trust myself to sleep in the same chamber as her.
“I’ll ask one of Master Longhai’s servants to help you.”
Before Ammi could protest, I rushed out of the room and closed the door behind me. I pressed my back against the wall, catching my breath.
Rage coiled up inside me, twisting so tightly my lungs squeezed.
When I finally worked up the courage to return to our room, I saw that Ammi had lit a candle while I was gone, as if she were afraid of the dark.
“I’m sorry,” I said to her quietly. “That’s never happened before. It won’t again. I promise.”
My promise sounded hollow, even to me. But thankfully, Ammi didn’t hear me. She’d fallen back asleep.
I crumpled to the ground and reached for the pouch that held my dagger. Ever since I’d given up the dress of the sun, my body had been numb. I hadn’t felt the cold or the heat, pain or hunger. I’d barely slept.
“Jinn,” I whispered.