But my demon ears were sharp, my demon eyes even sharper.
Whatever injuries had ailed the shansen after the battle in the Autumn Palace had long since healed. He continued, “But the Edan I knew would have sent those arrows flying back at my men, multiplied tenfold and with their wings aflame.” He turned to his men. “Call off the attack. Let them come. I want to have a word with Khanujin’s demon.”
No more arrows flew, and I cleared the gate in a rush of smoke.
I looked down at the shansen’s soldiers. At their helm rode the shansen’s sons—their dark eyes devoid of mercy, and their mouths wearing variations on their father’s cruel sneer. The eldest carried Sarnai’s ash bow, and I wondered what it had been like for her to grow up among them. They reminded me nothing of my own brothers.
Behind them rode the shansen’s generals and his Balardan mercenaries. The waiting soldiers had their swords drawn and arrows nocked. Did they expect me to surrender?
My mouth set with irritation. I could burn their weapons to ashes with a thought!
I landed on the stone floor of the palace courtyard with a thud so resounding the shansen’s soldiers staggered back. They parted ranks, and the shansen came forward to greet me.
“Have you come to beg for your emperor’s life, Maia Tamarin?” he rumbled. “He has been waiting anxiously for you to return.”
So, he was still alive.
I raised my chin. “Where are my father and brother?”
“Gyiu’rak tells me you were able to refuse our summons,” said the shansen, ignoring my question. I wondered if he knew that I’d thwarted Gyiu’rak’s attempt entirely, preventing all demons from coming to his aid. His demon was nowhere in sight.
“Impressive. I had hoped you might join us. That invitation still stands. Accept it, and I will reunite you with your family.”
His cordial tone unnerved me. At the wedding, he had been gruff and unpleasant. But now he was trying to win me over. That meant he viewed me as a threat.
I was. I could pierce his chest with my claws and spill his blood upon the ash-covered ground—before a single one of his guards could react.
If it weren’t for Baba and Keton, I might have done it.
“Enchanter,” the shansen continued. He affected a small bow. “I must thank you for breaking your oath. I could not have accomplished any of this if you had been by Khanujin’s side.”
Edan’s breathing stilled, but he said nothing.
“History will record that the Five Winters’ War was fought between me and Emperor Khanujin,” continued the warlord, “but this is a lie. The war was between me—and you, enchanter. A pity your magic is so weak now.”
“I want to see my father and brother,” I snapped.
“You’ll see them soon enough.” The shansen turned. “You have arrived in time for the passing of thrones.”
He signaled to his three sons, who promptly disappeared into a chamber behind the courtyard. When they returned, they dragged forth a cowering figure.
I hardly recognized the emperor. No headdress, no armor—the cloak I’d sewn for him was torn and tattered. His black hair was a tangled mass, and he looked like he hadn’t washed in days. Rope bound his wrists and ankles, and he was gagged with one of the shansen’s banners, a pop of bright green.
A chill crawled up my spine as realization dawned. The army would not have abandoned Khanujin here. Not unless—
No. I spun, taking in the palace’s ashen remains. The air was too still, too quiet.
And in that moment, I knew what had happened to Khanujin’s army: it had been destroyed—by Gyiu’rak’s ghosts.
What price must the shansen have paid for such power?
“Let him go,” said Edan, breaking from my side, his shadow tall and commanding.
“The Lord Enchanter speaks,” mocked the shansen. “Curious, Edan, that you continue to serve Khanujin even after your oath has been broken. Even more curious, that you should arrive with the imperial tailor. I never took you for an ally of demons.”
“She is not a demon.”
“Not yet,” spoke a new voice.
In a tempest of pale glittering smoke, Gyiu’rak materialized from the shansen’s amulet and took her place beside him, shifting into human form. Her white hair, striped with black, was knotted up like a court lady’s.
“Sentur’na,” she greeted, baring her teeth as she spoke my demon name. A wicked smile curved her mouth as she regarded Edan. “Jinn.”
At the title, Edan stiffened.
“You have arrived in time for the end of the Ujin dynasty.”
Khanujin’s eyes bulged at the sight of the shansen’s demon. He twisted his hands, trying to free them from the ropes.
“Enough,” said Edan. “You’ve captured the emperor and claimed your victory. Let him go. You dishonor your legacy by killing him.”
“Dishonor?” the warlord snarled. “You think Khanujin would spare me if our roles were reversed? No. He will be sacrificed to my demon. His blood is the price I pay for a new A’landi.”
“I will pay it,” I spoke up impulsively. “Let the emperor go.”
“You?” Gyiu’rak rasped. “A demon cannot pay my blood price. But your father and your brother…”
With a hiss I’d never heard myself make, I lunged to attack her, but Edan held me back. His eyes beseeched me not to do anything rash.
Gyiu’rak laughed. “Very well, then,” she said. And in a movement so quick it was but a whirl of color, she sliced her nails across the emperor’s pale throat.
Blood welled out, as bright as the rubies dangling from his wrists.
The violence of it—the suddenness—shocked me. The air froze in my lungs, my body growing taut as a string.
Then, snap.
Khanujin crumpled. Edan caught him, laying him gently on the ground.
I knelt by his side. My ruler’s lips were gray like the ash that had showered his skin. I swept it off his face and held his hand. I had no love for him; nothing I said would comfort him. And yet, for this moment, I wished I could do something to ease his passing.
His cheeks puffed with one last breath, and his eyes went hollow. He was the last of his dynasty, and with him passed the end of an era. He had been selfish and ruthless, but in a way, I understood. He had even been cruel, but when it came to his country and his people, he hadn’t been devoid of heart. Not like I knew the shansen would be.