“And there’s nothing I can do,” I finished for him bleakly. “It’s only a matter of time.”
I pursed my lips and stared at my nails. Thick, hard, and sharp. Even my knuckles had become gnarled, my skin growing scaly and parched.
“How did you end up a hawk?” I asked suddenly.
“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this anymore, Maia. You—”
“I want to know,” I said. “I’ve been thinking about what form I’ll take on. It’ll help me to know.”
He inhaled a deep breath. “Demons take on the form they had when they were enchanters, but not every demon began as an enchanter. Some demons have no spirit form, and others are powerful enough to take on any form they choose.
“I prayed for a creature with keen eyesight,” Edan confided. “Mine was getting poor from reading so much by moonlight. Soldiers didn’t have much use for candles.”
“So, a hawk?”
“Early on, when I discovered my talent for magic, one landed on my head.”
“On your head?” For a precious second, I forgot my troubles and chuckled.
Edan smiled. “I tried to shoo it away, but it followed me the rest of the week, screeching so loudly the other boys in my troop threw pebbles at it. I couldn’t understand what it was saying to me then, but I’ve always thought it could understand me. I never saw it again, yet I never forgot it. I wasn’t surprised when a hawk was what was chosen for me.”
I had no inkling of what would be chosen for me. No such creatures had come to me; in fact, all feared me at this point. But I did not say this to Edan.
I traced the lines on his palms. “These last few weeks have been hard for me. Not knowing whether you were safe, not knowing whether my country would go to war, not knowing whether I’d wake up the next morning as Maia, or as someone else.” I swallowed, wrapping Edan’s arms tighter around my shoulders. “But I know now I’m strong. Because I have someone to be strong for—Baba, Keton.”
“And me?”
“Especially you.”
My fingers crept up his chest to his neck, twirling a loose curl. But as soon as I wound it around my nail, I let go and stared at our hands, his on top of mine, the curve of his palm fitting perfectly over the back of my hand. His long fingers covering my sharp black claws.
“I want you to promise me something,” I said, trying to keep my voice as even as I could. “I’ve gotten better since finding you again and seeing my family. But it will not last. I can feel myself slipping a little more each day. If I should…become dangerous, you must stop me.”
“Maia…”
“When I do finally become a demon, Edan.” A lump hardened in my throat, making it painful to speak. “I want you to take the amulet. Take it away to the far corner of the earth and trap it in all the magic you can. Do what you have to do—bury it, throw it to the bottom of the ocean—just make sure I never find it again.”
“What good would that do?” Edan said gently. “You would spend all your hours searching for it. You are bound to the dresses inside—”
“One dress. I only have one dress left.” My throat felt raw, but I pressed on. “Please, Edan. I don’t want the demon me to have it…for her to abuse its power.”
For her to hurt anyone more than she already has.
“Demon magic cannot be contained that way, Maia.” Edan’s voice was grave. “Not even for you.”
Deep down, I had already known that. But I had hoped all the same. “Then end me. Promise me you will.”
I shook my head, preempting any protest.
He gave a numb nod. “If it comes to that, I will.”
Without another word, he left the tent. It took all my restraint not to follow him. I waited, sure he’d be back soon.
He did not come back.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Lady Sarnai saw my shadow outside her tent before I had a chance to announce myself.
“Don’t loiter, Tamarin. Come in.”
She was bundled in thick layers of fox fur, and she narrowed her eyes at how little clothing I wore. The wind seeped through my thin muslin sleeves, but I wasn’t cold.
Her tent was spartan, furnished with a cream-colored candle, a worn burgundy blanket, and two bronze pots—one for water, one for fire. Her bow lay on her bed, beside a quiver of freshly chiseled arrows.
“What is it?” Her tone was curt.
“I’ve come to ask a favor of you.” The words came out hoarse.
Lady Sarnai set down her sword, which she’d just begun sharpening. “You are in no position to ask favors.”
“I apologize, Your Highness. I’ll—”
She harrumphed. “Passive as ever. I don’t know how I ever took you for a man. What is it you want?”
My shoulders squared at her insult. “I asked Edan to kill me if ever I should lose control. But I don’t believe he will.”
Now she leaned forward, interested.
I took a deep breath. “I want you to complete the task if he fails.”
An elegant eyebrow arched, and she sat on one of her trunks, her back rigid. “I knew what you were the moment I saw you. I’ve known it since you made me put on that cursed dress and nearly killed me.”
I bowed my head.
“But no real demon would give up the secret of how to kill her. That is why I gave Edan back his dagger. Why I let you live. But your days are numbered, Tamarin.”
“I’m not—”
“Don’t interrupt me. You haven’t the right, and I haven’t finished speaking.” She flexed her sword hand, and her frown deepened.
“I’ve told you what magic did to my father,” she said. “I witnessed him transform from the emperor’s most loyal general to a traitor desirous of power above all else. He thinks he is in control of the demon at his side, but Gyiu’rak has him fooled. She will bleed him dry; it is her nature—a demon’s nature. And I see it in your eyes.”
Her voice turned cold. “You cannot control it if you are weak.”
Weak? my demon voice spluttered in disbelief. Yes, you are weak. But only for resisting. Imagine, Sentur’na, what you could do for A’landi if you gave in. You would truly be Gyiu’rak’s match. You would—
Go away. I snuffed the voice with my mind. I’ll not listen to you.