Bows lifted, arrows pointed at my father and brother. Terror seized me, and I leapt to shield them.
Then a familiar scarlet arrow struck one of the shansen’s sons neatly in the heel of his hand. Another arrow, then another, until all three sons collapsed, gravely injured.
Could it be? I craned my neck, searching for Sarnai.
Horses pounded through the gates, bursting past the flames, their hooves kicking up embers and ashes. More scarlet arrows flew, and I heard shrieks and cries, the last sounds of soldiers before they fell.
With the shansen’s men distracted, I hurried Baba and Keton to a corner away from the fray.
I tugged at the rice sacks covering my father’s and brother’s faces, but at the last moment, I decided not to lift them. I didn’t want them to see me like this, more demon than girl.
“Stay here,” I said, touching Keton’s shoulder, then Baba’s. “You’ll be safe here.”
“Maia?” Baba said. “Is that you?”
I bit my lip so I wouldn’t reply. Hearing him call my name brought the ghost of a pang to my heart. Just enough to make it ache for an instant, then the feeling was gone.
I returned to the battle to find Lady Sarnai and Lord Xina flanked by a small battalion of warriors.
I’d never seen Lady Sarnai in combat. She was faster than any man and just as strong. None of the shansen’s soldiers could match her skill with a bow; she shot a dozen men, clearing a path for Lord Xina to attack her father.
But the shansen, imbued with a demon’s strength, easily overpowered the man who’d once been his favored warrior. He snapped Xina’s spear in half, flung him at one of the fortress walls, and let out a triumphant roar, more tiger than man.
My eyes tracked the amulet swinging over his armored torso. The obsidian gleamed with Gyiu’rak’s magic, and I feared I knew what was coming next.
The shansen spun to face his daughter, who was advancing on him with her bow raised.
Dropping Lord Xina’s broken spear, he opened his arms as if to welcome her attack. He waited until she was twenty paces away before he touched his amulet—and then, melding with Gyiu’rak, he transformed into a tiger, white fur bristling over his human skin.
I’d seen the warlord transform before, but Lady Sarnai had not. She yanked back on the reins and folded her body forward, shoulders curling in to brace for her father’s attack.
I had to do something! But I was across the battlefield, too far to help.
With dizzying speed, the tiger tackled her. Her horse shrieked, and Lady Sarnai toppled from her saddle, disappearing from view. Most warriors would have died instantly, and at first, I feared Sarnai had. Then she surfaced, wrestling the tiger with her bare hands.
The shansen raised his claws to her throat.
Stop! I shouted into his thoughts. She’s your daughter. You taught her to fight like this.
A flicker of hesitation glimmered on his brow. He growled, but he was listening.
Your demon has warped your thoughts. Don’t let her murder your daughter.
While I spoke to the shansen, Lady Sarnai struggled to inch away from his claws and regain her footing.
Kill her! Gyiu’rak screamed from the shansen’s amulet. The demon’s shouts overpowered mine, and the hesitation on the shansen’s brow vanished. Kill her.
The shansen’s claws hovered in the air. My stomach twisted with cold fear. I was sure that by the next beat of my heart Lady Sarnai would be dead. Down his paw came, but his daughter rolled away, and Lord Xina charged. The warrior drove his broken spear into the shansen’s side.
The tiger roared with pain, writhing and twisting. Lady Sarnai raised her sword. Unlike her father, she did not hesitate. But it was too late. The shansen leapt over the fire and disappeared.
Immediately, the flames subsided, and Lady Sarnai stabbed her sword into its remains. I could not see her face, but her shoulders heaved in frustration. She’d missed the chance to defeat her father.
She spun from the embers and strode to the banner the shansen’s men had hoisted. She broke its pole over her knee and ripped the flag in half.
“The shansen has retreated,” she declared. “Shut the gates!”
And at her command, the doors of the Winter Palace thundered to a close.
The battle was over.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
It was not a victory.
Lady Sarnai knew, as I did, that the shansen only conceded the Winter Palace because it held no strategic value for him. The smallest of Khanujin’s residences, it had been built during more peaceful times for the purpose of housing the royal family during A’landi’s bitter winters. It relied on its position on a cliff for its defenses, and the military barracks had been depleted of its resources during the Five Winters’ War. It did not even connect to the Great Spice Road.
Emperor Khanujin had made a mistake staying here. The Spring Palace was only a week’s journey from the Winter Palace, and, seated along the eastern coast of A’landi, it was protected by both the imperial navy and Jappor’s army—the strongest in the nation. Now that Khanujin was dead, no one could stop the shansen from conquering the capital—and A’landi.
No one, I wanted to tell Lady Sarnai, except her.
Her three brothers were in chains; her scarlet arrows jutted out of their hands and legs, their ribs and shoulders. Each wound looked calculated to bring severe pain, but not to kill.
She ignored their pleas for forgiveness and reclaimed her ash bow from her oldest brother.
“Take them to the dungeon,” she told Lord Xina. “I’ll decide what to do with them later.”
Terrified by the dark demon magic they had witnessed, many of the shansen’s troops were willing to pledge themselves to Lady Sarnai, who had fearlessly led them in battle during the Five Winters’ War. Those who would not defect were thrown into the dungeon without food or water. A few spat at her, shouting, “I’ve more honor than to follow a woman!”
They were also thrown in the dungeon, but with a note to the guards to have their tongues cut out.
No one else dared question her command.
By noon, Lady Sarnai had restored order to the Winter Palace. Her men had extinguished all the fires, and she’d enlisted the emperor’s surviving ministers to inventory what weapons could be salvaged from the armory and what food the palace had in its granary and storerooms.
“She’s really something, isn’t she?” Keton asked while I cradled Baba’s head on my lap. “Even more frightening than I remembered her during the war.”