“You think I did that?” he asked. “Try someone closer.”
Myar Mal’s face remained blank, but his arms slumped. “Speak clearly.”
“I wasn’t the only one who wanted you dead. You have a lot of enemies, Myar Mal. Entire families, I’d say…”
Myar Mal paled.
“No,” he rasped.
Raison Dal chuckled. “Oh, yes. You saw the hatred in her eyes. You know she blames you. And you know she’s right.”
“No!” Myar Mal yelled and pushed his hands forward, sending his prisoner hurling into the wall. He then let out another yell, haunted and full of anguish, then fell to his knees. His head slumped, fingers digging into his scalp. Despite being surrounded by dead enemies and having uncovered the conspiracy to end his life, he looked utterly defeated.
There was only one person Raison Dal could be talking about.
I was at a loss. Should I go to him? Try to comfort him? But what could I say? I barely knew him; I certainly didn’t know Amma La. That traitorous asshole could be lying about her involvement, but even if he was alive, he was in no state to tell. And Myar Mal must’ve at least suspected something, given how easily he accepted her betrayal.
What the fuck could I say to that?
“Myar Mal,” I stumbled forward, fighting legs that still tried to buckle under me.
“Leave me,” he rasped.
I fled.
* * *
Too late, I realized Myar Mal might not have left the mansion alive. I read somewhere men tried to take their lives less frequently than women, but were more often successful. He certainly had the means. And more than enough reason. But was he capable of such a thing?
Tayrel Kan was wrong. Myar Mal’s love for Amma La was real. Nothing less could justify such suffering.
I realized if the kar-vessár took his own life, I would be the only one who knew about her involvement in the conspiracy. Shit, I could be the only one who even knew about the conspiracy! How much would my word mean against hers?
I was so lost in my thoughts, I didn’t even look where I was going. My body was weak, my movements erratic, and when I stumbled, I had no strength to arrest my fall. When my vision cleared, I saw Saral Tal. The enemy sword cut through his helmet, shattering the visor before getting stuck in his jaw. Splotches of dark red marked the pale blue sash of nami vessár.
I was so tired. With limbs as heavy as iron, I reached out and closed his eyes. Then I heaved myself to my feet and moved on.
Walk,… , move on.
All I wanted to do was crash on my bed and sleep. Maybe cry a little.
“Vessár!”
I was in the main yard. I wasn’t sure how I got there. A Dahlsi soldier stopped me almost immediately and I squinted, trying to remember his face.
“The enemy has surrendered,” he said, gesturing to some two dozen people gathered at the center of the yard. It took my fogged brain a while to realize why they seemed so out of place among Dahlsi soldiers.
“Tearshan! By Vhalfr!” One of the captives ran to me, then grabbed my hand.
“The merge is not far from here,” whispered Taneem Kiovar. “Let us go. No one needs to know. Come on, Tearshan,” he pleaded. “We’re from the same nation.”
Were we? I looked at his face: it was covered in soot, eyebrows burned off, and eyes wide in fear. I studied it, searching for any sign of affinity, but all I could see was the face of Saral Tal, cut in half, pale blue sash tainted with dark red in a perverse inversion of the Dahlsian flag.
I wrested my hand from his grip.
“The merge is blocked from the other side,” I said wearily and watched hope drain from his face. I turned to my troops. “Myar Mal’s orders were clear. No survivors.”
“Vessár?” A Dahlsi soldier was watching me, rolling his wand between his fingers uncertainly.
But what could I do? It was an order; I was as bound by it as him.
I turned my back on Taneem.
“No survivors,” I repeated, feeling hollow.
Chapter 24
The last spell was cracking. Using Tayrel Kan’s body, Myar Mal pushed one more time and the colorful lines, invisible to everyone but him, flickered and vanished. He started walking. He was on the top floor of the mansion, far away from the yard where the real Myar Mal watched Aldait Han struggle with Peridion. The true enemy, the magic-wielder who turned their spell against them, was ahead. Hidden in his lab and surrounded by ephemeral barriers, he still radiated more power than any human sorcerer.
Except Tayrel Kan.
Controlling two bodies was difficult, and it it didn’t leave enough brainpower to process sensory input from both. That’s why it took him a while to smell the smoke—and another to determine where it was coming from. He frowned. Then he sped up.
Too late.
The workshop was filled with flames. He extinguished them with a flick of the hand, then waved to clear the air. The only thing revealed was scorched remains of furniture and a small pile of strangely misshapen bones.
On the other side of the mansion, Aldait Han collapsed to the ground and Myar Mal slipped his consciousness to deal with the threat. Tayrel Kan swayed and slid along the wall, too tired to scream.
Chapter 25
Amma La let out a long puff of smoke.
“So, you know,” she said.
“I don’t believe it.”
She chuckled. The air inside her tent was heavy with smoke and regret, and yet she seemed comfortable, sprawled in the chair with her legs stretched before and crossed at the ankles, her back turned to Myar Mal, who stood at the entrance, not daring to step in.
“I’m sorry.” There was not even a hint of remorse in her voice.
He flinched.
“Why, Amma?” he pleaded. He never did, but now he couldn’t help it; he needed to know, to understand. He knew things were not going well—he knew it for a while—but
