Ferma yanked her to her feet and shoved her. Suddenly, Elena was running. Her legs moved of their own accord as if her body realized what her mind could not—run. She ran down a side street, Ferma sprinting ahead, with Yassen and two guards bringing up the rear. More pulse fire split the air, and Elena saw a woman on a terrace cry out, her body slumping over the railing.
“Move, move!” Ferma barked.
Elena ran. Her heart beat wildly as they rounded a corner and dashed into the open market. A hoverpod was already docked there. Pulses ripped along rooftops as her guards returned fire. But then came a bright flash and a loud smack, and the air exploded. Elena hurtled forward. She fell to her knees, biting down on her tongue. More ringing filled her ears, blood and dirt in her mouth. The blast had torn a gash down the building to her left, and a fine dust coated the air.
She looked up. The hoverpod still stood. Ahead, she saw Ferma rise, her hair sharpening and raking the sky. Elena clawed the ground, found purchase, and lurched to her feet.
Yassen dashed past her, crying out. “Ferma!”
A shot sounded. She felt the pulse graze her cheek, heard its whisper at her ear, and saw it race through the market and rip into Ferma’s chest.
She saw the Yumi’s eyes widen. Everything was in slow motion, like a dream. The blood sprouting from Ferma’s chest. Her hands grasping the air. Her body, her hair, Ferma, falling.
Falling.
A scream tore from Elena’s throat, but it sounded as if it came from another being, a wild creature. Yassen held Ferma up, shouting, his eyes wide.
She was so limp in his arms.
And then the world was spinning. A sniper on the roof fell. An urchin lay crushed beneath a fallen wall. Blood spilled down the side of his head, his mouth frozen in a silent cry.
Someone pushed her, but her legs were lead, and she stumbled. But then there was Yassen, yelling, shouting,Move! Move!Then he pulled her, nearly ripping her arm out of its socket as they dashed into the hoverpod. The door closed and they were airborne, shooting straight into the sky.
Elena gasped. She clutched Yassen’s arm. Everywhere, she trembled. Suddenly, her feet could no longer bear her weight and she sank, taking Yassen with her. He was telling her something, something about the palace, her father, and she turned to him. Somewhere deep in her mind, she registered that his face was bleeding and then realized it was blood from her shoulder. She must have been shot, but she felt no pain.
Everything was distant. Everyone swam. Who took off her cloak? Was that a medic wrapping treated cloth around her shoulder? Someone pushed something into her mouth. It tasted bitter yet sweet. Elena gulped it down, and then the shadows that crept along the edges of her vision grew longer. She was on her side. People were shouting. Her hands lay in front of her and there, in her palm, was the folded letter. Someone had given it to her. It winked at her as her eyes fluttered, and she sank, willingly, into the deep, forgiving darkness.
CHAPTER 28
LEO
When the Phoenix rises, the sky will burn. Dunes shall unravel, mountains shall shake, and valleys shall fill with the bones of generations past. She shall rise from the flames, and She will seek Her Prophet.
—fromThe Prophecy of the Phoenix, transcribed into written word by the first priests of the Fire Order
Anything?” Leo asked.
Majnu shook his head. “No, Your Majesty. They’re all clean.”
Leo rested his chin in his hands, his head heavy. All morning, the servants had clamored around the palace, preparing Elena for her appearance at the Fire Festival. He had avoided her since their argument, and she had sent messages, night after night. Asking about Jangir, about a statement. But the pain and the sorrow of her betrayal festered in his chest. He did not have the time, nor the heart, to speak with her now.
After Elena had left for the festival, Majnu and his men had searched the servants for strange marks under the ruse of an outbreak. Leo had come up with the idea, had instructed Majnu to round up the palace men because a “sickness” was spreading in the city—one that left black marks on the victim’s body.
“The servants will call it an omen,” Arish said. “That a so-called sickness descended into the palace before the coronation.”
“The Prophet brings plagues,” Leo snapped. He turned back to Majnu. “Have you sworn the servants to secrecy?”
“Yes, sir, but I expect some will tell their family members,” the Spear said.
“Inform them that the disease is mild, that they shouldn’t worry, but that we can’t risk infecting Elena,” Leo said. “Search your men next, Majnu. The Prophet could be anyone.”
“Sir,” Majnu said and then hesitated. “I don’t believe any of my men are the Prophet. But the new men who’ve come in…” He trailed off. Slowly, he met Leo’s gaze. “They might be worth searching.”
“Do you accuse your future king of smuggling in the Prophet?” Arish said.
Majnu shook his head. “I mean no harm, sir. But the runes appeared shortly before Samson’s arrival. Perhaps the Black Scales are the omen.”
“Or it could be coincidence,” Arish began, but Leo silenced him with a look.
