“I cannot leave without speaking to the Silver Mage. He hasn’t been captured or killed.” She spoke more to herself than to him, a trace of fear in the words. “I would not leave him without a word.”
“He left you without a thought,” Rukh reminded her.
“Because he trusted you to wait upon his consultations with the Shin War.”
“More fool he,” Rukh said, jealous of her loyalty to his rival. “Yet I know I cannot dissuade you from your course. What hope do you offer me, then?”
“I think you know well enough. Just as you knew what I would do in that moment up on the walls.”
So she hadn’t forgotten. Or forgiven him his transgressions. Even with Darya’s sacrifice between them. Suddenly weary to his bones, he turned away, speaking with feigned courtesy. “Once you have resolved upon your journey, I will assign you a Zhayedan escort.”
His eyes ranged over Sinnia and Wafa. Both looked instantly at Arian, both reached for her hands.
“Where you ride, I ride,” Sinnia said, the pulse of unwavering loyalty beneath her words. They were sisters bound by the Claim … by all they had risked together. Neither she nor Arian would ever need to stand alone.
“And me,” Wafa added shyly.
Arian felt a resurgence of hope, even without the Bloodprint, and though she may have been strengthened by the Claim, she knew it was just as much the certainty that she was neither helpless nor alone.
She had driven the One-Eyed Preacher back with the unchallenged power of her voice. Now the courage and commitment of her friends served to cleanse her of self-doubt. “I hadn’t thought otherwise,” she promised.
A horn sounded in the outer hall, a single clarion note. Sinnia shot a sharp glance at the Khan.
“We’ll need to cut across the western plains through the lines of the Rising Nineteen. How do we escape being seen? Do you send the Assassin in our train?”
“No.” Rukh moderated his tone. “I need Hasbah at Ashfall. The battle has just begun.”
He thought of his sister’s bier and of the terrible final task she had carried out, believing that her actions would aid him. He should have given her reason to come to him. He should have listened to her dreams—he should have been worthy of her trust. The smallest fissure in his self-possession appeared.
“You will leave through the Qaysarieh Portal. The prisons tunnel under the city. You will head south before you head west; thus you will bypass the Nineteen. Though I admit I do not know why the assault from the west doesn’t come.”
Arian hoped she did. She held up the scroll that contained the Verse of the Throne. As long as her gifts were buttressed by its power, the One-Eyed Preacher would not recklessly spend the Nineteen. He would utilize the Bloodprint first.
She reached for Sinnia’s hand and smiled. “The Verse of the Throne held him back. He will need time to regroup.”
A thrill of anticipation surged through Arian’s bones. If the scroll had come from the Sana Codex, it would serve to gain her admission to the presence of the Mage of the Blue Eye. She had never visited the lands of the Negus or seen the capital at Timeback. How joyous it would be to travel through lands that were free, leaving her struggles behind.
The clarion call sounded again. The great doors of the Divan-e Shah were unerringly pushed aside. In the dim corridor beyond, two figures could be spied. They moved into the light and Arian gave a cry from the heart, her eye falling on Daniyar, bloodied but upright, his silver sword blazing in his hand, his dark hair disordered by the wind, his face slick with sweat and grime under the shadow of his beard. He had never looked more beautiful to her, more a part of herself than she’d had the courage to admit. His eyes burned like silver stars, sweeping the room with a glance, his face tight with fury, as he sought and found the Black Khan.
At his side was a woman whose armor had been tested by battle, whose gold hair flowed down her back, and whose features were all too familiar. Either Rukh’s men or the Silver Mage himself had persuaded the High Companion of the need to return to Ashfall, delaying her return to the Citadel.
With a shock, Arian realized Daniyar was holding Ilea’s hand. He knew her, something Arian hadn’t thought to consider. He’d mentioned the Conference of the Mages; she’d never thought to question him about a connection to the Golden Mage. Now it hurt her to see them so close. But as soon as Daniyar found Arian, he released Ilea’s hand, crossing the room to take her in his arms. He buried his face in her hair, speaking into her ear. “I never would have left you by choice. But there was a chance that the Shin War would hear me and put an end to this madness.”
She marveled at the entreaty in his beautiful dark voice—was he asking for forgiveness for committing himself to the same course of honor that she had always been bound by? Did he think she’d felt abandoned, when all she’d seen was the danger he faced in the heart of the Talisman camp? Oblivious to their audience, she clasped him fiercely to her heart; she pressed her lips to his throat, inhaling his familiar scent. Then she pulled back to look at him properly, running her hands over his chest and arms, searching for hidden wounds.
“I saw you trapped at the loya jirga—I saw the fire. I thought …”
The horror of all she’d faced rose up in a powerful surge, choking off the words in her throat. Her tears spilled over. With great care, he brushed them aside. Then shielding her from the view of the others, he kissed her with breathtaking tenderness … a kiss that gave her everything she had ever yearned to have from him.
Her arms wound up around his neck, her need as urgent as his.
“First Oralist!” The scathing lash of Ilea’s voice wrenched her from Daniyar’s grasp. She pressed a hand to her throbbing lips; her eyes found the High Companion.
“Exalted …”
The Claim hung over Arian’s head like a punishment etched onto stone. “Is this how you fulfill your oath? By dishonoring the vows you swore to uphold? If this is the path you have chosen, consider yourself dismissed.”
Arian stared at Ilea in shock, as did the others in the room. Save for the Black Khan, who was watching the High Companion with a cynical twist to his lips.
But Arian shivered at the enmity behind Ilea’s words. Her voice was darkened by a bitterness that had now corroded into hate.
Yet what defense could Arian offer when she couldn’t deny the charge? She loved Daniyar—no, she longed for him with an ache that anchored her heart. Even now she wanted him to take her in his arms and make her forget who she was and what she had sworn to do.
And clearly he felt the same. He held her firmly at his side, his strong arm circling her waist. His silver eyes scorched Ilea like two furious bolts of fire. His voice was deadly soft. “Though Arian is bound to me, she has not forsaken any of her vows.”
It was a reminder to the High Companion that she was the one who had plotted to send Arian to the Authoritan, under the guise of an Audacy that had resulted in Arian’s torture.
Ilea glared back at him. She lowered her voice to a murmur and offered a pitiless response: “How bravely you stand as her champion. But you’ve erred before in believing the First Oralist would choose you over Hira. Do you not recall? You came to me to ask for dispensation on your beloved’s behalf. When I refused to grant it, did Arian run back to you?” Ilea shook her head, her golden eyes filled with rancor. “She preferred the hunt to the safety of your arms. And watch her now, my lord, as she chooses Hira once more.” She dismissed them both with a turn of her head, facing the throne of the Khan. “She has already made the decision to set you aside again.”
Daniyar’s gaze flashed to Arian, who stood motionless at his side. “That isn’t true.” His voice was rough with denial, but he read that the High Companion was certain of her words. He cupped a hand under Arian’s jaw, tilting her face up to his. “Arian, tell her.”
Arian stared into his beautiful face, searching for words that would soothe him.
The Black Khan’s guards were waiting to take her to Qaysa
rieh. And she would seek out the Sana Codex if Ilea approved her Audacy. She had witnessed the rise of five armies—armies who would not scruple to destroy the world she knew: the Talisman, the Ahdath, the warriors of the Cloud Door, the Zhayedan … and the Rising Nineteen to the west, who would be strengthened by the magic of the Bloodprint and the power of the One-Eyed Preacher. The only weapon she could wield in return was the secret of the Sana Codex.
But despite the call to the Conference of the Mages, she had cherished the hope that Daniyar would ride at her side. She had planned to tell him … urge him … beseech him … in their first moment alone. In truth, she had believed he would need no urging at all.
Arian, you are everything. You have always been everything.
He read her decision in her eyes, yet he couldn’t have known what she hoped for. His gaze flicked to Wafa and Sinnia, dressed for travel on the road. And then he caught sight of their escort, and his warm hand dropped from her waist.
His eyes closed briefly, his lashes lying like two dark crescents on his cheeks. A muscle ticked in his jaw. When he opened his eyes, he looked at her with the courteous indifference of a stranger. “Go then, if you wish.”
The weariness in his voice struck to the core of her heart. He chose to ask no questions and pressed her for no explanation. And the worst of it was, she knew why. She’d left him in Candour after promising him her love, promising to stay at his side; she knew she’d betrayed his trust at the deepest level she could. And in all her years of chasing the slave-chains, she’d never returned to Candour to ask him to reconsider—to ask if he would take as much as she was able to give. She’d never tried to convince him that the love that burned so fiercely between them would see them through the struggle ahead.
Now she was stunned to learn he’d come for her instead, humbling himself before Hira.
You asked me for dispensation on your beloved’s behalf.
Why had he never told her? But she realized it didn’t matter. The Silver Mage of Candour had bent his knee before the Council, showing her how greatly she was loved. A love she had always returned. And she’d thought he would know in his heart that whatever her purpose now, her path would be at his side.
“Don’t listen to her, Daniyar.”
His gaze shifted back to hers. For a moment his silver eyes burned with his buried anguish. But his voice was expressionless when he said, “Ten years, and you didn’t suffer the same agony of separation—I shouldn’t have forgotten how easily you let me go.” A grim smile touched his lips; the sight of it shattered her heart. “But I will remember it now.”
“Daniyar, please …”
Without looking at her again, he strode to the High Companion’s side. He raised his regal head to face the prince of the realm.
For a moment, Arian felt paralyzed … helpless to make him understand.
Then memory of the Ark returned to her—the place she had truly been helpless, and Lania’s dire premonition resounded in her mind.
What waits for you beyond the Wall will cause you a suffering unlike anything you have known.
But Arian was tired of suffering. And she was anything but helpless.
She turned from the throne to face the room. Raising her hands before her, she configured an abstract incantation. She gestured at Sinnia to take Wafa to her room and compelled the Khorasan Guard to wait for her outside the doors.
Her actions happened too quickly for any of the others to protest. And then she was alone in the room with three of the Mages of Khorasan.
She looked over at Daniyar and considered his studied indifference. Then at the High Companion, so duplicitous in her decrees. Then finally at the Black Khan, readying himself on his throne. She faced them all and said, “Do you disbelieve in the Day of Resurrection?”
Daniyar’s silver eyes narrowed. They tracked her like a cat on a leash.
But the leash was in Arian’s hand.
And she wasn’t asking the question to offer an opening to answer.
She conjured the Claim in the room, choosing the verse with care.
“On that day, you will not proclaim a single remorse; you will suffer many regrets.”
She raised one hand in the air. The Claim lashed the Black Khan’s face. Once, twice, a third time—each stroke of the lash more severe. “For your betrayal at the Ark. For how you deceived me on the ramparts. But most of all, I punish you for daring to taste my blood.”
The Black Khan’s head whipped back. He pressed a hand to his cheek. It came away without blood. Stunned, he dipped his head, acknowledging her unfettered power.
Next, she turned on Ilea. She summoned another verse.
“Whoever commits injustice among you will taste severe retribution.”
Ilea tried to deflect her with an incantation of her own. Arian closed her fist, rendering Ilea immobile. Arian’s cold gaze lanced over the Golden Mage.
“I was a child of Hira long before you arrived. You speak of my vows as a commonplace, not knowing the nature of my sacrifice. What right do you have to command me when your own legitimacy is forfeit?” She flicked a glance at Rukh, freeing him from her grip. “You renounced your vows on a whim when you took the Black Khan as your lover.” Her smile was as grim as Daniyar’s had been. “Did you think I didn’t know? I simply bided my time.”
The High Companion struggled against Arian’s irrefutable hold. Arian watched without sympathy, flooded with the justice of the Claim.
“What did you think I was doing that decade I spent in the south?” Ilea’s hands scrabbled blindly at the air, for Arian used only her voice. She waited for Ilea’s surrender. Though the golden eyes raged at Arian, in the end she bowed her head. Arian nodded to herself.
“I was training. I was reading. I was making myself strong. How else did you think I was able to vanquish so many men?”
Ilea began to cough. Daniyar moved as if to aid her, and Arian turned to him, releasing the Golden Mage.
“And then I come to you, my lord. The only man I have loved.”
“Arian—”
She waited for him to speak, but he didn’t say anything more.
She held the Claim in abeyance. She could never use it against him. He was free to oppose her if he wished. But he stood there watching her in silence, a grudging admiration in his eyes. She didn’t want it. What she wanted was his acknowledgment of the truth.
“What do you know of my suffering? What do you know of how it felt to cut out my heart from my body? How little you think of my love—I would have begged you to ride at my side.” Her furious gaze encompassed the Black Khan. “Instead, you would hold me here captive. And isn’t that what every man expects? For me to give up who I am? And all that I’ve sworn to do?”
She grabbed hold of Daniyar fiercely, shaking him in her rage. “He rules this empire, and you watch over Candour, but I—who have inherited the legacy of the Claim, I, who am the First Oralist—I am to yield to your needs. Or to his, if he wills.”
Her nails dug into his shoulders as she raised her eyes to his. “Love me for who I am, or your love means nothing at all.”
Stunned, he let her rail against him until the tempest of her fury was spent. He didn’t try to restrain her or to shield himself from her blows. Then when her body was trembling with the aftershock of emotion, he gathered her in his arms. His glance sought out the other Mages. Neither had moved, even to strengthen the other. They waited for him to act. To cast the First Oralist aside. Instead, he pulled Arian closer.
She had scratched his throat and the bare skin of his chest in the openings beneath his armor, and now her tears stung his flesh. He bore the little stings as if these were gifts she had given him, gifts of her deepest self. He knew what it said of her love that she hadn’t invoked the Claim. That he was the only one she hadn’t been able to harm.
His breath whispered over her hair. “You cut out my heart, too.”
One fist beat against his chest. He captured it in his hand and brought it to his lips
. It was the same hand the Black Khan had sliced with his blade. When he saw the wound, he muttered a violent oath. “He bled you?” Rage stirred in his voice.
Arian freed herself from his arms. She moved away from the Mages, stumbling toward the great doors.
“Each of you has bled me, yet you cannot defeat my aims.” She dismissed Ilea’s dominion with a savage twist of her voice. “I need no command of yours to seek out the Sana Codex.” She glared at Rukh, who had come to attention at the words. “I do not act for you. Nor will I bring the Codex to you—it will serve the women of these lands. That is my only charge.”
She confronted the Silver Mage. “I make no apology for it.”
And witnessing her conviction, he loved her as he never had before. In that same annihilating moment he was struck by a surge of raw terror—and by a piercing sense of loss. Too late to accept how reckless his actions had been.
He tried to call Arian back. “My love, I beg you to hear me. You cannot leave me like this.”
Her hand was on the door, but she turned back at his words. “Why?” she demanded, the rage still fresh in her eyes. “When you left me long ago.”
She strode back to him, ignoring the others. She jerked him close and kissed him as fiercely as she could, letting him taste what he’d lost.
Then she left him without a word.
The Black Khan came to his feet, astounded by Arian’s power. At how effortlessly she had wielded it against the Golden Mage. And truthfully, against them all. And yet it excited him too, fueling his desire for Arian. If the Silver Mage was foolish enough to allow the First Oralist to leave him, he would claim her power for himself. The alchemy of the Dark Mage leapt within him like a flame, even as the presence of the other Mages fired his thoughts like a call to arms.
No matter what he’d lost—his young and innocent sister, the Grand Vizier of his empire, even the mad half-brother who had died unredeemed on the wall—his city had something to hope for in the First Oralist’s return. In Hasbah, his deadly Assassin. In Arsalan’s fearless command of his army of Zhayedan. In the presence of the others still waiting for him in this room.
The Black Khan Page 38
