The slightest movement and it will know.
I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the bag containing my mother’s bangles.
Two.
Breathe slow.
Never forget to breathe, it helps calm the heart.
I knew my focus needed to be on finding the gate while Kiyan stole Queen Azari’s crown, but the bangles still called to me, like they were part of who I was.
Three.
Pull the trigger, niece.
Enjoy your kill.
At once a scream sounded behind us. Kiyan whirled, but my eyes were trained on Reza, who looked up in our direction and smiled.
No.
“It’s a trap!” shouted Mishah, and silver soldiers from the Court of Salt seemed to appear from everywhere. It was as if they grew from the ground underneath us, like they’d been planted in the earth.
“The magic Reza must have drained for this,” Zaye whispered, her face horrified. “He must have taken power from half the Court of Salt.”
The soldiers erupted into battle with the rebels. As much magic as they could muster poured from the hands of the rebels, with vines and birds and trees coming from all directions, wrapping themselves around the soldiers.
Halmasti wolves as big as their iron-legged horses ran between the bodies, snapping up rebels in their jaws and tearing their bodies in half.
Birds called by the resistance dipped from the sky, falcons gouging out eyes and hawks working in tandem with them to attack the Salt soldiers.
But we’d lost our advantage; we hadn’t surprised them at all.
The Viceroy had the numbers, had the power. At most, we would manage a small dent in his forces.
The Viceroy rode faster through the pass, a tight group of Salt Guards surrounding him.
“Not today,” I said to myself, then I took off running, through the trees toward the valley below.
I heard Kiyan shout my name, but I didn’t care. The rage of what the Viceroy had done burned in my bones, the smugness of his smile as he rode with my mother’s jewelry tied to his horse.
I was going to make him regret ever coming here.
Chapter 48
Today might be the day I die. But at least I will have loved.
At least I will have fought for our freedom.
—Letter from Kiyan to his family, unsent
Kiyan
“Yaseema!” I shouted her name, but she didn’t hear me. Or didn’t want to.
I fought off two of the soldiers behind me, the ones that seemed to sprout from the earth where my own power should have been. My magic was so weak the vines and roots I called were only enough to restrain a handful of soldiers and pierce the hearts of a few.
I could feel the thread of life in everything on the battlefield—feel it but not call on it. I tried, sweat pouring out of me, using more concentration and focus than I had, and for one small moment I could get it to listen.
