The River was loud, the rapids fierce, turning the emerald water white and angry. I could barely hear my own thoughts over it.
And still the water beckoned, the barrier between the fae and human worlds calling out to me.
Over time, people in Astola had begun lining up along the edge, praying to the fae to save us from the famine, drinking the water in the hopes that it could cure deadly ailments and disease, watering their crops with the River water in an attempt to get them to grow again.
But it never worked.
The magical wall that cut through the center of the River must have prevented any fae power from entering Astola.
There were no boats on the River—you could travel down it, but if you crossed the magical line in the middle it would slice your vessel in two like a hot knife through butter. Remains would wash along the shores; guts and blood and innards—a warning to all those who tried to cross the barrier.
There was no one here now. In the midday sun it was just me, the rushing River, and the crickets, their shrill chirps a warning.
I stepped into the water, the haath phool adorning my hand, and sucked in a breath at the harshness of the cold.
I scooped up some of the cold River in my hands and drank, savoring the light sweetness on my tongue. It was the last drink I would have in the human world before I journeyed to steal an ancient crown from the fae.
“Yaseema, wait.”
A voice echoed across the water, followed by the click of a rifle, and I froze.
My legs swayed with the current of the River as I turned to look over my shoulder, the voice I heard causing my body to tighten in anger and wariness.
“How did you find me?”
“It wasn’t hard, when we realized you had the bracelet,” Sophie said, her thin frame illuminated by the bright sun.
“We?”
Another click of rifles, and I scanned the forest behind her. Citadel soldiers lined the trees, their guns pointed at me.
Winthrop stood behind Sophie, dragging someone with him. My heart clenched as I realized it was the frail body of my nani, her fierce eyes alight.
“Give me the bracelet, or I will kill her.” He didn’t mince words. There was no cajoling or pleading. His blue eyes were cold.
My nani’s were not. They were blazing hot, the same fire as my father’s before he was killed in the uprising against the Citadel, and I saw what she must have been like as a girl, enduring all the Citadel had wrought on our kingdom.
“Yaseema, don’t listen to them. Don’t give up this chance. Get out of here. Do what you need to do. I will always be beside you, no matter what.”
My heart was in my throat, my eyes burning as tears streaked down my cheeks, falling into the River at my feet. This was my chance to leave, to fix everything, to perhaps save Astola.
But at what cost?
Could I watch them kill the woman who had raised me when both my mother and father were gone?
“Let her go!” I screamed, though I didn’t move from the water. Indecision warred within me, though my heart begged me to go to my grandmother.
But my head knew it might not make any difference. The excavator threw my grandmother to the ground and kicked her side. She screamed, and the sound tore through me, ripping my heart from my chest, my decision made for me.
There was no way I could leave her like this. I cried out, lurching toward her. Then, Winthrop withdrew his rapier, the thin blade glinting in the blinding light.
“Wait!” I cried, my eyes wet with tears.
“Come back here, or she dies today.” The excavator lined up his sword with her neck.
“Stop!” I shouted. “Please, don’t hurt her.”
I met Nani’s gaze.
