Anger rose hot and dark in my stomach, outweighing my panic, my fear.
I was comfortable with books and research and scrolls. I could dig up ancient relics and figure out puzzles faster than anyone I knew. But going against a fae war general as he tried to kill my only friend here? I didn’t have magic that could overpower him, and I was human. The only thing I had at my disposal were my hands.
I had also just discovered the information I needed to help my grandmother and cousin, and to fulfill my mother’s final act.
The book sat heavy against my chest as my heart and my head warred with what I should do.
If I intervened now, it would jeopardize everything.
If I got involved in this fight, I couldn’t slip out into the night with my discovery. I’d be hunted, if I even made it out of here alive.
But there was no way I could leave this library and let him kill her.
What was the point of any of this if I sacrificed others for my gain?
I picked up a large statue of an azi from an end table and lifted it high, the dragon’s wings curled in anticipation. Books toppled from the shelves as I walked by, the remnants of my magic still holding them in its thrall, the final golden thread dissipating into the air.
The general didn’t even turn his head, but Ramishah’s wide eyes darted in my direction.
I raised the statue high. The general was short for fae, but I was still shorter, so the most I could manage was bashing the bottom side of his skull with all my body weight behind it. I swung as hard as I could manage, connecting with his head with a wet crack.
But instead of collapsing to the floor as I thought he would, the general howled, clutching the nape of his neck and whirled around.
His beady eyes narrowed on me; fury etched in his expression.
A glint of silver caught my eye, a sharp letter opener that had fallen to the ground when they’d crashed into the table.
“You?” he growled out the question.
Despite myself, I nearly huffed out a laugh, because he reminded me so much of Winthrop from the Golden Vault. “You’d be surprised how many people say that to me.”
I crouched down, picking up the letter opener from the floor as he advanced on me.
“You’re working with her?” he demanded.
The question didn’t make sense to me.
Of course we worked together—he’d seen us in the kitchens, though that didn’t seem to be what he was referencing.
But I didn’t have time to respond. He lunged at me and I flung myself backward, despite being the one holding a blade. Safiyya’s voice whispered in my head, censuring me about holding a knife against an attacker without knowing a thing about using it.
He’ll use it against you unless you use it first.
The thought of stabbing him made me feel sick, so instead I grabbed frantically for anything on the table behind me, wrenching a lamp and smashing him over the head with it. But he still kept coming.
“Do you have a head made of bricks?” I gasped out and scrambled away.
I kicked him in the shins and tried to run toward the door. A hand wrapped around my ankles, yanking me down. The general was on top of me then, blood pouring from the wound in his face, his expression contorted and purple with rage.
His meaty hands wrapped around my throat this time and I choked out breath, trying to fill my lungs with air. I heard Ramishah cry somewhere behind us, but my vision had begun to go blurry. I also felt something darker flood through me from his hands, as if he had spread death to my veins.
The General can create poison with a touch.
I remembered Mishah’s words from the other day, and knew he must be using his power on me now.
My head started to swim, my strength fading. My mother’s bangles burned against my arm, a cool pain that flooded through me. As if my energy had buoyed, I clenched my fingers tight.
And something sharp bit into my fingers.The letter opener.
