“What should we do with Efiya?” asks Fadyi.
“Burn her body before she sees fit to come back.” Koré’s tone is full of menace. “Do it where the demons can see, and watch them run like the cowards they are.”
I slip into the lull of sleep and when I wake again, I’m lying in a tent. Koré is at my side with her hands pressed against my wounds. It hurts, but the pain is dull. Re’Mec is on my opposite side. Both stare at me like I’m some mystery they’re trying to solve. Behind Re’Mec, I catch glimpses of Sukar lying on a makeshift cot. He’s asleep, and the cravens are close to him. Fadyi, Jahla, and Räeke. I remember that the twins, Ezzric and Tzaric, are dead. My sister killed them. She killed Arti and Oshhe too. Tears slip down my cheeks. I’ll never hear another story from my father, or collect herbs in the garden with him. We won’t ride with the caravan to the Blood Moon Festival—there will be no more festivals now.
“Did Fram send you back?” Koré hisses in my ear. “I can taste their magic on you.”
It takes all my effort to keep my eyes half-open, and I don’t have the strength to answer. Why would the orisha Fram have anything to do with me? It makes no sense that she’s asking me about them. Essnai, Kira, and Majka stand at my feet, looking anxious. Rudjek stands farther back, his arms crossed. I have so many questions, about the demons, about the orishas, about my sister.
“Can’t you do something more?” Rudjek demands. “You helped Sukar.”
“I’ve stopped the bleeding and healed her wound,” Koré says. “It’s the magic from the dagger that’s poisoning her body now—like we expected. In truth, I may have only prolonged her suffering. And I can’t do anything else without diverting my attention from more important matters.”
“More important matters?” Rudjek turns on her, enraged. “Where were the Twin Kings when Efiya killed the tribal people? Where were you when the Ka-Priestess created that monstrosity?”
Re’Mec’s shoulders tense. “That’s not a tree you want to bark up, boy.”
“Do you know where I was not?” Koré rises to her feet, her braids writhing in agitation. “I was not bedding Arrah’s sister.”
Heat creeps up Rudjek’s neck and burns his cheeks. Essnai curses, and Kira glares at him. Majka looks everywhere but at his friend. Rudjek glances to the ground, his face twisted in anguish like he wants to bury himself under a slab of granite.
Re’Mec lets out a long whistle that echoes in the valley. “No need to bring up the boy’s indiscretions, Koré. We were all young once, or have you forgotten?”
He emphasizes once in a way that makes it clear that there’s a story behind his words, but Koré refuses to back down. Her eyes take a hard edge. “Did the others not see when Efiya leaned in to whisper to you on the battlefield?”
Rudjek doesn’t answer, but Jahla speaks up. “You know as well as I that she tricked him.”
“As much as I love a good spat,” Re’Mec rises to his feet, “my sister and I have a horde of demons to hunt down and kill. One of them stole the Demon King’s dagger and I want it back.”
A shock of pain cuts across my chest. How had one of the demons taken the dagger? Had it happened right after I . . . I killed my sister? There’s a blank hole in my mind and it frustrates me that I can’t remember. We have to get the dagger back . . . we can’t let the demons keep it. It’s too powerful, too dangerous. I try to warn my friends, but the blood pooling in my throat drowns out my voice.
Koré pats my shoulder and sleep claims me again. I’m in and out for days. In my dreams, I sit with my knees drawn to my chest, staring at a frozen lake with mist rising from its surface. Sometimes I’m alone, save from the brisk breeze whipping across my bare arms, but I don’t feel the cold. Sometimes Rudjek is with me and we snuggle together under a great brown fur, neither of us speaking. Sometimes it’s another boy. I can only see a wisp of his silvery hair and wings.
“Do you remember me?” asks the winged boy in my dreams. “Do you remember us?”
My head is on his lap and it’s so comforting that I could stay here for eternity.
“Who are you?” I roll over to look up at him, but the sun washes out his face.
“I’m Daho,” he says, sad.
“Do I know you?”
After a long pause, he answers, choking back tears, “Not yet, but you will.”
“You have a new body.” I catch glimpses of his dark features, a memory teetering around the edges of my mind. A memory of him.
“Yes.” He smiles down at me. “I will come for you, I promise.”
In another dream a winged beast with sharpened teeth and a jackal head sweeps down from the sky and steals me away. I startle awake. “Rudjek,” I say. My voice is low and broken. Shadows shift in the tent from flickering firelight.
“I’m here, Arrah.” He takes my hand into his own; he’s wearing thick gloves.
Rudjek runs his gloved fingers across the back of my hand, trying to smooth away my anxiety. He doesn’t have the heart to tell me the truth. That the universe has conspired against us. That our touch is venomous. That there can never be more between us because of my magic, and what he’s become.
“You won’t let him take me, will you?” I clutch his hand—it’s my tether to life. My dreams open in my mind like fresh wounds, the signs unmistakable. Sweat trickles down my back. Sometimes dreams are dreams, and sometimes they are glimpses into the future. I have Grandmother’s gift of vision now, and my dreams mean more. They foreshadow a terrible truth.
Rudjek frowns, worried. “Who, Arrah?”
“The Demon King,” I groan, my throat raw.
“He’s still in his prison.” Rudjek strokes my cheek. “You saved us.”
I stare up into his bewitched eyes, knowing the truth will break him. It will break me too.
The Demon King
This new body is quite small and lacks wings. I miss the wind sweeping beneath me. It will take some getting used to. Yes, I know, in due time. You don’t have to remind me of that. I don’t like being in this weakened state. My people need me—what’s left of them.
We will lay siege to the orishas’ beloved humans and cravens.
I’ve learned patience all these years locked in chains, and I’ve learned many of the orishas’ secrets. I know how to destroy them, but this isn’t only about bringing about their deaths. They must suffer as I have.
I will enjoy every moment of it.
What about her?
Do not ever address my wife as “girl” again, or I’ll cut out your heart and feed it to you.
She’s still your queen and even if she has forgotten that, it’s not her fault.
Yes, she’s a risk, but hear me: tread carefully when it comes to Arrah. I won’t have her harmed. She will come around soon enough. Of that I’m sure. You should be too. You know Dimma loved our people as much as I do. When she has her full memory back, she will return home. I need to find Fram. They will tell me how to break the spell on Dimma so my love can remember me.
Do you think a boy she’s known for a moment in time will come between us?