SAJDA CLOSED THE door behind her, her skin still burning from the iron chains, her heart beating a frantic tempo in her chest. Her hands shook as she began putting away the freshly cleaned weapons that had been used in combat practice that day. Tomorrow, she’d be up at dawn placing them in their assigned spots inside the arena while the warden watched.
For tonight, the swords went on the dusty black cloth. The mace hung on a hook beside the short spear and the chain. She picked up the bow and ran her fingers over the place where hours earlier Javan had stood in the center of the arena, and fired arrow after arrow in quick succession around the arena.
His strategy depended on getting the bow and arrow, and she’d just taken that from him. The warden would never agree to a last-minute change in weapons’ placement. She gripped the bow with white knuckles, her heartbeat roaring in her ears, her magic blazing through her blood in desperation to protect Javan.
Oh, how she’d wanted to save him. To leap the wall and run to his side, her magic clawing for the blood of his foes so she could whisper nightmares that would reduce them all to rubble.
Was it wrong to use her magic to hurt those who sought to hurt the boy she loved?
She wasn’t sure she cared. If she had to be a monster, at least she could be a monster who kept the prince of Akram safe and helped restore him to his throne.
Something bumped the wall in the corridor outside the closet, and she froze, magic scraping at her skin. Had Hashim and his friends returned to torture her with their chains again?
“Did anyone see you enter?” The warden’s deep voice filled the air.
Sajda shrank, huddling close to the floor, reaching for a pair of battle-axes as though that could save her if the warden turned her attention to the weapons’ closet and discovered an eavesdropper.
“I was careful.”
She knew that voice—elegance and brute arrogance. It was the false prince. Her fists closed around the ax handle as she considered whether she could get past the warden long enough to kill the boy who’d taken everything from Javan.
“What is it? I have a prison to run.”
“You have a boy to kill. I’ve run out of patience. Javan cannot be allowed to win tomorrow’s competition.”
“I’ll make sure of it. If he doesn’t die in the competition, then the points will add up to another winner.” The warden sounded impatient.
“I don’t have the same kind of faith in your abilities as Fariq. From the start, you have done nothing but create problems. You attacked Javan too early in Loch Talam, and didn’t even manage to kill him then. You failed to report that he was in your prison, and by the time we found out about it, rumors about him were already spreading. And you failed to make sure he died in the last round of combat. You should’ve just killed him in between rounds and been done with it.”
The warden’s voice was a low, throaty snarl that sent a chill over Sajda’s skin. “You’d better be careful how you speak to me. You need me as an ally, not an enemy.”
“And you need me. Fariq is dead. The king will be dead shortly after my coronation. If you’ve made an enemy of me, you will lose this prison, your coin, and if you don’t flee Akram fast enough, your life.”
There was a long moment of silence, and Sajda hardly dared to breathe in case she gave herself away.
Finally, the warden said, “I can’t just kill a competitor who is a crowd favorite. Not without raising a lot of questions with both my prisoners and the aristocrats. That’s why I didn’t kill him in the first place. The last thing we need are rumors about the boy with the resemblance to royalty who died mysteriously in Maqbara.”
“Then you shouldn’t have let him become a crowd favorite!”
“I was away when he arrived, and I didn’t even know he was here until he was already in a competition and word was already spreading. You should’ve made sure he never made it to Maqbara.”
“You bear plenty of blame for that as well. He must be killed. Tonight. The king’s health has improved lately, and it’s risky to let him see Javan. I’ll dose him with saffeyena to confuse him, but I don’t want to take chances. Kill Javan. We’ll claim it was a jealous prisoner and punish one of them accordingly.”
“If the prisoners think they aren’t safe in their cells when they’re following all of the rules, I could have a riot on my hands.”
“Then you shift into a dragon and you kill anyone who riots. That will quell any dissent immediately. In fact, that’s the best solution to all of this. Shift, burn Javan, and claim you’d discovered he was part of a plot against the crown. I’ll support your claims. It will be simple.”
“Easy for you to say when you get all the benefit and take none of the risk,” she answered.
“Need I remind you that Fariq gave you an incredible amount of leeway in how you run your prison and how you gain your prisoners. I’m sure an investigation would uncover quite a number of inmates who aren’t actually guilty of their crimes but whose room and board the city’s taxes have been generously paying. And it would reveal that you’re baking the corpses of the losers along with the destroyed beasts and using that to feed your prisoners so you can pocket the coin we send for their upkeep. As the new king, I can either continue to look the other way as Fariq did, or I can ruin you. Choose wisely.”
In the silence that followed, Sajda quietly set the battle-axes down and pressed her hands to the stone floor. Her magic stung her palms as it drank in the heart of the stone, sheathing her in cold, immovable purpose.
“Consider it done,” the warden said. “It’s nearly twelfth bell. I’ll burn him in his bed once the bars go down. There’s no escaping from that.”
The stone skin Sajda wore over her heart shuddered once at the thought of Javan dying in a stream of dragon fire, and then she rose to her feet, glaring at the door while she waited for the warden and the impostor to leave.
The moment the corridor was empty, she raced down its length and hurtled into the first stairway as the chain and pulley system shuddered into life.
If she didn’t get there in time, Javan would be locked in his cell, and she wouldn’t be able to get him out before the warden arrived.
She took the stairs three at once, bursting onto the next level and then sprinting up again. The iron bars rattled as they began descending from the ceiling.
Why had she put him on the fifteenth level?
Her breath sobbed in and out of her lungs, as she passed level three. Level four. Crashed into someone on level five’s stairwell and never looked back.
Six.
The bars were a third of the way down now.
She reached for her magic. Let it coil around her muscles and give her power.
Seven.
Eight.
Nine.
The bars were halfway down. It didn’t matter if anyone saw her run with inhuman speed. It didn’t matter if she was revealed to be a dark elf.
All that mattered was that Javan, the boy who made her laugh and think and feel, survived.
Slamming her hands into the walls on either side of the stairs that led from level ten to eleven, she sent her magic shuddering into the wall and felt it give. Digging her hands into the stone, she created a new handhold on each side and flung herself to the top of the stairs in one leap.
Two thirds of the way up.
Twelve.
Thirteen.
Another handhold. Another leap.
She was almost there, but the bars were slowing. How much space would he need to get out? Was it already too late?
One more giant leap and she skidded onto level fifteen and bounced off the wall as she turned toward Javan’s cell.
“Javan!” Her voice echoed throughout the upper levels of the prison, but she didn’t care.
She ran, feet skimming the stone, as the door creaked toward its final stop.
He met her at the door as she flung herself between the bars and the floor, grabbed the iron railing, and locked her arms, refusing to let it fall.
The metal screeched, and she sobbed out a little prayer that she could hold it long enough. The iron bit into her skin, pain screaming up her arms.
“What are you doing?” There was a wild light of fear on his face. “You’re going to be crushed. Move!”
He grabbed the bars and pulled, muscles straining as the door struggled to complete its journey.
“She’s coming to kill you. Burn you alive. Slide under. Hurry!”
He kept his arms on the bars as he lay down on the floor beside her. “You slide out first. Then me.”
“No. I can hold this.”
“Sajda—”
She locked her eyes on his. “Trust me. I’m stronger than you can possibly imagine. Get out now before she arrives and takes your choice away.”
There was a wealth of unsaid things in his expression, but he simply scooted down, keeping his hands on the bars to help with the weight, and then slid under. The second he was clear, she started to follow, and the door dropped a handspan.
“No!” he shouted, and lunged for the rail above her. Wrapping both arms around it, he pulled upward with all his might as she slowly wiggled free, trying to leverage as much pressure against the railing as she could while still getting clear of it.
“Clear,” she said, and they let go.
The door slammed into the stone floor with a jarring thud, and from a distance, they heard the shush of leathery wings beating the air.
“She’s coming,” Sajda said, wrapping her hand around Javan’s. “The closet. Quickly!”
They ran for the far end of the corridor. For the abandoned supply closet with its broken door. Sajda pulled the door open, practically shoved Javan inside, and then softly closed the door behind them. Seconds later, the dragon cleared the level, hovered in front of Javan’s cell, and sent a steady stream of fire where moments ago, the prince of Akram had been standing.
“She might find us in here,” Javan breathed.
Sajda’s mind raced, skipping through her options and discarding them one by one until she found the only possible solution. “We aren’t staying in here. It will take her some time to realize you weren’t lying on your bed when she incinerated your cell. When she does, she’ll track you by scent. Your scent might be all over the prison, but the strongest scent trail will be from where you’ve most recently been.”
His face blanched, and she peeked out of the crack in the door to see the dragon still hovering just outside Javan’s cell, watching the whole thing burn.
“If she tracks by scent, there’s nowhere for me to run. You have to get away from me.” Javan’s voice was a desperate whisper. “Are you listening to me? Sajda!”
She pulled back from the door and met his gaze. “You already know I’m not leaving you. I’m going to take you down to the stalls. I have a hiding place there, and it will be very difficult for her to track your scent when it’s mixed in with all the beasts we’re housing. It’s your best chance. Now let’s go.”