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“If I do,” Arluin replies, his eyes glinting with the amulet’s icy glow, “what reason would you have to fulfill my request?”
My father grits his teeth. “At least lower your blade.”
Arluin flashes him a thin-lipped smile. His hand doesn’t slacken around the dagger. “I’m growing bored of this. Deactivate the Aether Tower or watch her drown in her own blood. The choice is yours.”
“Don’t, Father!” I cry. “Please don’t do it!”
Disabling the Aether Tower would mean rendering Nolderan defenseless. The enormous orb of magic powers the city’s wards, shielding us from any external attacks.
Whatever Arluin intends, deactivating the city’s defenses must be the key part of his strategy. He has gone to such lengths to carefully maneuver my father into checkmate.
Something terrible will soon befall us. I can’t shake away the shadows snaking through my heart.
“Do it,” Arluin urges. “I will not wait any longer.”
If Nolderan falls tonight, all the blood will be on my hands. If Arluin hadn’t captured me, my father wouldn’t be in this impossible situation. He wouldn’t be forced to disable the Aether Tower.
I need to escape. Now—before my father deactivates the orb.
Arluin won’t expect me to cast magic without spell-words. I succeeded when I fought Kaely. Maybe I can succeed again.
If I harness my grief, my anger, perhaps it will be enough for all the aether in my body to burst free.
But there’s no time. My father is already striding to the center of the Aether Tower. He stops directly beneath the enormous orb of magic.
“No, Father!”
He raises his staff. The crystalline surface glistens in the brilliant violet light.
Desperately, I focus my fury. On Arluin deceiving me. On him wielding me as a weapon against my father.
So many nights I cried for him. And yet, he was plotting Nolderan’s destruction.
Though I feel magic rushing through me, brimming as furiously as my emotions, it is already too late. When I unleash my explosion of aether, sending Arluin back several paces and freeing myself from his grasp, my father has already uttered the spell-word.
“Terminir.”
He drums his staff against the platform. The enormous orb of aether flickers off.
Without its radiance, we are cast in darkness.
The clouds are thick and heavy, suffocating the stars. The crescent moon is pallid against the shadowy haze.
Fearing Arluin will capture me again before I can escape, I break into a sprint. When I reach my father, I clutch his arm. My fingers dig into his sleeve.
“Reyna!” His free hand goes to my neck, examining the wound.
“It doesn’t hurt.” I wonder whether it should. The scratch is deep enough that blood smears over his fingers. But I feel numb.
Arluin straightens, having recovered from the burst of aether I hurled at him. A smirk curls onto his lips.
The city erupts.
Ghostly beams shoot into the sky, slicing through the dark heavens like sword. There are at least half a dozen, all scattered through the city. Before my father can demand an explanation, blood-curdling howls pierce the night.
The howls of the dead.
Thirty-Eight
