Nahri’s mind spun. This is not him.
But what if it was? She’d read Dara wrong before and been nearly destroyed in return. What if he was playing on her weakness, on her affection?
What if Nahri was the mark?
He lurched forward, and Mishmish growled again. “Nahri, please,” Dara implored. “Surrender. I cannot fight her. You cannot fight her. She—” His mouth snapped shut.
Then he shuddered, reaching for his scourge. It transformed in his hand, the iron barbs turning into shackles and chains. A leash.
“I am very sorry,” he whispered. “But I have orders to bring you to her.”
Nahri stared in horrified revulsion at the transformed scourge. But it was also the reminder she needed, jerking her loose from whatever this conversation was. She couldn’t stay up here, not where the lake and sky were so visible.
That wasn’t the plan.
She leveled her gaze on Dara, feeling the chill of the peri’s dagger through her clothes. “I’m shafit, you know.” The truth felt good, filling her with pride. “It’s human blood flowing through here,” she added, tapping her wrist. “Probably not dark enough to have passed your foul test at Qui-zi. But let me tell you, Afshin, I will bury you beneath the lake before that scourge touches me.”
She would swear sorrow briefly lit his eyes. But then the flat mask of obedience again slipped over Dara’s features, like a man pulled underwater, and he lunged.
Nahri was ready. With barely a thought, the palace magic surged through her. She threw up her hands, and the stone floor rushed up like a wave, groaning and fracturing, to snare around Dara’s legs.
She didn’t expect it to hold. Nahri jumped on Mishmish as Dara twisted and roared, the stone already starting to crack. “The garden, go!”
They flew, dashing over the overgrown palace heart. An object whizzed past Nahri’s ear with a metallic whistle, a glimmer of silver vanishing into the undergrowth. A second one tore by, and then a third whizzed past her calf with a lash of pain.
Arrows. He was shooting at her.
Mishmish yelped, swerving as he was hit in the wing. Another arrow dashed by, narrowly missing his throat and Nahri’s arm. She whirled back, spotting Dara on the edge of the parapet. He drew back his bow again.
Nahri brought the roof down.
Dara disappeared in the explosion of wood and stone, swallowed by falling bricks. Nahri didn’t bother watching. It wasn’t going to kill him. Deep in her bones, she knew he was going to keep coming for her until she put her dagger through his heart.
But with Mishmish hurt, this gave her time. “Land,” she urged, waving toward the trees.
They crashed through the canopy, her shedu roaring in pain. Nahri rolled off his back, trying to get a look at his wing.
“It’s okay,” she said as Mishmish thrashed. Nahri grabbed his mane, trying to calm him down. “Let me help you!”
The shedu stilled, allowing her to take his wing, and Nahri sent a burst of magic to ease his pain. But the arrow was metal, the shaft unbreakable, and each bit of fletching still razor-sharp.
“I’m sorry, Mishmish,” she whispered, trying to numb him as much as possible. Then she shoved the arrow through, yanking it out and dropping it on the ground. The shedu let out a birdlike shriek even as Nahri soothed him, pressing her hand against the wound and urging it to heal.
A warning shivered through her blood. And then a root dashed up from the soft earth underfoot. It wrapped around her ankle, and yanked her out of the path of an arrow that zipped over her head.
“Surrender!” Dara was atop a pile of debris that used to be a gazebo, another arrow drawn back. “Nahri, please!”
“No, I don’t think so, my love.” He’d shot her shedu, so she’d hurt him in turn. And judging from the pain that sparked in his eyes, the words cut deep. Nahri called to the magic burning in her blood once again, and the tree nearest Dara swayed wildly before ricocheting back and knocking him to the ground.
She paid for it. In the next breath, the garden had burst into flames, a ring of fire surrounding her and Mishmish. From the billowing black smoke rushed twisting forms: a massive viper, a screeching rukh, a sharp-horned karkadann, and a fire-breathing zahhak.
Mishmish knocked her aside, putting himself between Nahri and the monsters. But her shedu was outmatched, unable to fight four at once, and even as he dragged down the viper, biting it clean in half, the zahhak tore at his golden flank. He roared in pain, narrowly avoiding the charging karkadann.
The rukh landed between them, hissing and snapping its sharp beak. Nahri scrambled back. Panicked, she called upon the palace magic for protection, but the giant bird simply dodged the tree swinging at it and then seized Mishmish with its talons.
“No, stop!” she cried.
“Surrender, and he is free.” Dara was already back on his feet, stepping through the line of flames like a demon striding through hellfire. “Keep fighting, and my beasts will tear him apart.”
Of all the things he had threatened her with … Nahri would rather have been shot and bound with the scourge.
“You would do that to me again?” she asked, her heart breaking. She would not have thought Dara could keep finding ways to accomplish that. “Was the first time not enough?”
“I must obey my orders.”
“Oh, fuck your orders.” And this time, Nahri launched herself at him.
It was a supremely foolish move, one that caught Dara unaware as expected—she had literally no chance of defeating the legendary Afshin in hand-to-hand combat—but it was enough to startle him, knocking him off-balance. They wrestled to the ground, Dara easily thwarting her feigned efforts to grab the sword at his waist.
“Nahri, stop,” he said, sounding exasperated. “I do not wish to hurt you!”
“You won’t,” she hissed. “I’ve learned the garden is very protective.”
And with that, the roots beneath her surged up and seized him by the arms.
Nahri rolled
