No one, except me.
The hairs on the back of my neck bristled. “Gyiu’rak.” I cursed, spinning to warn the others. I didn’t get a chance. She sent an invisible blast of demon wind, rocketing to my lungs.
My throat seized, punctured by a thousand needles, and I lurched forward trying to catch my breath.
“Maia?” Ammi said, running to my side. “Maia, what’s wrong?”
I clutched at my chest, choking and pointing at the fire.
Powerful limbs emerged from the shadows, condensing from smoke to flesh. But by the time Ammi and the others realized what was happening, it was too late.
With an earth-shattering roar, Gyiu’rak burst out of the flames.
Terror descended on the camp, everyone scrambling for weapons and for cover. I pushed Ammi behind a wagon and grabbed the nearest spear, even though I knew it would do little good against a demon.
Gyiu’rak prowled the camp, snarling at the cowering soldiers. Her fur glistened, white as the snow, with burnished stripes like carefully considered strokes of ink.
She was searching for someone. I shouldered my way toward her, but it wasn’t me she wanted; it was Lady Sarnai. The shansen’s daughter appeared, her ash bow raised, with a scarlet arrow nocked in place—aimed at the area between Gyiu’rak’s eyes.
A laugh tumbled out of the demon’s throat. “Your pitiful weapons cannot harm me, little jewel,” she mocked. “But keep them raised if it makes you feel safer.”
She turned to address the rest of the camp, slicing the tension in the air with her every breath. “By request of His Excellency, Emperor Makangis, I bring you warm tidings. As you all are citizens of A’landi, he offers you this one chance—to surrender.”
Lady Sarnai pulled her bowstring back. I tried to catch her attention, to warn her not to attack.
She ignored me.
Her arrow sang, straight and true, piercing the demon neatly in the forehead. Smoke sizzled from Gyiu’rak’s fur, but she plucked the arrow out as if it were a burr in her coat, and flicked it away.
Within seconds, the demon’s wound closed bloodlessly.
Shock rippled across the camp. Soldiers shrank behind their shields, knees trembling violently. Even Lady Sarnai staggered back.
I moved closer to Gyiu’rak. An arrow couldn’t hurt her, but I could.
“We have ten thousand against your pathetic army,” the demon announced. “Lord Makangis welcomes your surrender now. If not, the battle will commence tomorrow—and we will show no mercy.”
Some of the men wavered, taking tentative steps forward. Then I heard someone cry, “We will not surrender!”
It was Ammi. She and the other women blocked the soldiers. They repeated, “We will not surrender!”
“Your blood price will not be paid.” The words boomed out of me. “Not while I fight by Lady Sarnai’s side.”
“And I,” declared Edan, joining me.
“We fight for Lady Sarnai. We fight for A’landi.”
Soon every man and woman chanted the words, their strength gaining momentum across the camp.
Gyiu’rak threw me a baleful glance. “Curious, that they should listen to you, Maia Tamarin,” she rasped in a low voice. Her head tilted. They don’t know yet, do they? Shall I tell them?
I went very still. My nails had grown so sharp that simply curling my fists made my palms bleed.
What are you afraid of? Gyiu’rak spoke without making a sound, sliding into the inner crevices of my mind. Are you afraid that they’ll try to kill you? That they will fear you? Let them. Soon they will all be dead—
“Leave!” I barked at the demon. “Go now.”
My words hung in the air, the sound of my voice so thunderous that snow trembled off the trees.
A smile curled over Gyiu’rak’s tiger lips. “Very well.”
Without warning, she lunged, attacking the soldiers nearest her. As their screams pierced the air, a plume of smoke enshrouded the tiger and she vanished.
The chanting had stopped, and the air was thick with fear and uncertainty.
No one had surrendered to the demon, yet she had triumphed. Before, the soldiers had only heard stories about her power and invincibility. They hadn’t witnessed it until now.
But Lady Sarnai has a demon, too, I thought. Me.
“How can we fight that?”
“She can’t die. What chance have we?”
“We’re doomed.”
“We still have the Lord Enchanter!” I heard Keton shout. “And—” My brother’s eyes met mine, and I shook my head.
“The enchanter did nothing while we fought for our lives at the Autumn Palace. He no longer has power.”
At my side, Edan tightened his fists.
“Show them,” I urged him. “Show them they’re wrong.”
“It is not my magic that will save us,” he replied. “It’s yours.”
Much as I wanted to deny it, I knew he was right. I can’t hide forever. Not if I want to save A’landi.
Flicking off my gloves, I stepped into the middle of the camp and raised my claws. The wind swallowed the gasps that followed.
“Many of you have wondered about my eyes, why they glow red as a demon’s. And my hands.” I raised them, extending my claws. “They are part of the price I paid to make the dresses of Amana.”
Keton stood at the front of the soldiers, a mass of hundreds, all waiting to hear what I was going to say next. I inhaled, avoiding my brother’s gaze.
“I am a demon.” I let the words ring in the air, taking care to look as many men and women in the eye as I could. To show them, in whatever way that I could, that I was still Maia. That I would not harm them.
I swallowed, taking in the fear in everyone’s eyes, the curled lips and tense jaws. Edan touched my elbow, nudging me onward.
“In our legends,” I continued, “the first demons were created by the gods themselves, gods who grew restless in heaven and wanted an immortal race to do their bidding. So they soldered parts of men and beasts together to create a new kind of creature. When the mother goddess learned of them, she sent her children—the stars—to chase the demons from heaven onto earth. Since then, the stars have stood guard over the demons to make sure they never return to heaven.”
I held out my amulet. “Demons and ghosts are vulnerable to the power of the stars, which I will harness to keep A’landi safe. To keep all of us safe.”