“There is nowhere for you to go,” the demon growled. “Return it and I won’t kill you.”
I brandished the meteorite blade with one hand and held the amulet over the well with the other. “One step closer and I throw it in.”
The demon assumed Sendo’s voice again, knowing it would torment me. “The ghosts will see you dead before they allow you to leave with the blood of stars. Return the amulet to me, and I will give you safe passage off this island.”
“Safe passage?” I snapped. “You tried to kill me.”
“Give me my amulet, and I will let you go.” A deliberate pause. “Or I can give you something your heart yearns for.”
I was breathing hard. “What do you know of my heart?”
“Edan,” the demon whispered. “You love him, and yet he pledged an oath that cannot be broken. Hand over the amulet, and I will break the oath.”
I hesitated. “How?”
“Let me show you,” he hissed, inching closer with the lethal grace of a wolf. “Just give the amulet back.”
I was torn. Are you crazy, Maia? You can’t trust a demon.
But what if he was telling the truth? What if he could free Edan? We could be together.
Listen to yourself! the logical part of my brain screamed at me. The demon is manipulating you. If you don’t take the blood of stars now, then there will be no hope of peace for A’landi. Thousands more will die. Their blood will be on your hands.
But Edan…
We’ll find another way.
“I don’t bargain with demons,” I said shakily.
“That’s too bad,” the demon said. “I was looking forward to freeing Edan. Death would be a gift for him, after serving so many hundreds of years.”
A chill rippled down my neck. The demon would have killed Edan. He had tried to trick me again!
Hatred thickened my blood. No more of this. Heart racing and fingers fumbling, I cracked open my walnut and leaned over the well, reaching deep for the shimmering silver liquid within. Just an inch more!
The demon’s shadow loomed over me. I jumped, feeling his icy-cold breath on my neck, and the walnut slipped out of my hand into the well.
“No!” I shouted.
My gut twisted with despair, and the demon cackled. “Such a useless girl,” he murmured, shaking his head.
A small vial materialized in his palm. He held it out, sharp nails glittering. “Give me back the amulet, and you may have it.”
I tightened my grip on his amulet, studying its rough black surface. Its round face was scratched and dented, likely hundreds of years old. Maybe more. It resembled the one Emperor Khanujin wore, only with a wolf in place of a hawk.
I glared at him. I desperately needed the vial. “Fine.”
With all my strength, I hurled the amulet at him. His claws rose to catch it, and in a moment of madness, I lunged forward and slammed my dagger into his shoulder. He cried out, an anguished scream that made my blood curdle.
I swooped for the vial before it shattered on the ground. The well was nearly full now. As quickly as I could, I filled the vial. I should have run immediately, but the glass shone with an intensity that transfixed me.
The blood of stars.
I held it close, staring into its sparkling depths. It would be easy to stare at it forever, mesmerized by its ever-changing colors. How many men had died trying to obtain this priceless substance, I couldn’t begin to guess. But I hadn’t escaped yet, so I capped the vial and whirled around to run—
Straight into the arms of the demon.
He was back. Black, velvety blood seeped out of the wound in his shoulder, but it was already healing in a whirl of smoke and shadow. I tried to flee, but he blocked me and wrapped his claws around my neck. The shock of his touch was like lightning. It tore through me, boiling inside my veins, silencing my thoughts, my nerves. My dagger clattered, the clang of its double-edged blade against the stone floor sounding a thousand miles away.
My blood thickened. I could see nothing. Not the brilliant star-flooded sky or the horrible red eyes of the demon before me.
He laughed in my ear and brought me close to him. “You aren’t going anywhere,” he whispered. “My ghosts are hungry. Don’t you hear them wailing?”
I heard the howling, but I’d thought it was the wind. I shut my eyes, wishing I could shut my ears, too. I writhed and kicked at the air, tearing at the demon’s face to free myself. But he was too strong.
“It’s been so long since they’ve had a visitor,” he continued. “And one with such sweet, sweet memories. Wouldn’t you like to stay with them, Maia? My ghosts. You could all be one happy family again.” He squeezed my neck, right where my pulse beat. I gasped. My heart stopped. Started. Beat. “Ghosts devour memories, did Edan tell you that? One touch, and they take away your past. You forget everything and become one of them.” He squeezed me tighter. I wheezed. No more breath. “Or should I keep you for myself? Demons devour you slowly, piece by piece, memory by memory. Until you are nothing.”
I was too weak to fight the demon anymore. My hands fell to my sides, limp and useless. But my scissors throbbed at my hip, and with one last spurt of strength I unhooked them and stabbed their blades into the demon’s heart.
He let out a gruesome howl. This time I didn’t linger. As soon as the demon dropped me, his terrible form peeling into smoke and his bones charring into ash, I was already on my way.
I picked up my dagger and careened down the tower, my feet moving faster than my breath. Ghosts began to rise, screeching whispers and taunts. The sounds chased me, so close that my ears rang.
The meteorite half of my blade glowed, and I kept it raised. Its magic was the best defense I had.
A ghostly horde waited for me below—all white hair and wet red eyes bulging out of their sockets. Their screams stabbed into my skin, resonating in my bones until I thought I might shatter.
I wouldn’t give in. I wouldn’t touch them.
I burst out of the tower, hurrying down the stone steps into the abandoned city. But there was no way off the island. There was nowhere to run. Then—
Edan. His great wings beat against the wind. Somehow, he’d managed to carry our carpet in his beak. Its weight hindered him, and he flapped hard to stay aloft. When he got close enough, he dropped it before me and squawked.
The carpet’s edges were frayed, and the rest was tattered and torn. I kicked it, hoping to awaken it. No good.
My fingers trembled as I took out my scissors and got to work, mending holes and tears to breathe new life into the carpet. Please fly, please fly.
Edan circled me, waiting with me. Oh gods, there is no way out of here. I could see the ghosts swarming toward me now.
Threads looped and knotted under my scissors. I cut and cut, as fast as my fingers could move. Behind me, the night had become quiet once more.
My fingers burned as I frantically knotted the tassels with the scissors’ magic. Finally, the carpet jerked to life. I bolted onto it. “Fly!” I shouted at it. “Fly!”
It started to rise, but the ghosts were upon me. With a chorus of whispers and shrieks, they swooped forward, their long, skeletal arms outstretched. They were so close I could see the hollowness in their eyes. Their mouths hung open, tongues thin and long as a snake’s.
STAY, Maia. Don’t you want to be with your family, forever? STAY WITH US.
I swung my dagger in every direction, and for a while, it worked to keep the ghosts at bay.
But there were too many of them. I couldn’t hold them all off.
Desperately, I dug through my pockets, searching for anything that might help. Pins pricked me, but I kept searching. My cloak pocket, my tunic. I was about to give up when my fingers brushed over a walnut—the one storing sunshine.
Hope sprang, then courage.
I ripped a piece of my sleeve off and hurriedly tied it over my eyes. Then I squeezed them shut and pinched the shell open. The briefest second had to be enough.
Sunlight exploded over the tower, and the ghosts screamed.
The carpet rose. I grabbed on to its threadbare fibers and hung my chin over the edge, watching as the Forgotten Isles disappeared one by one, like candles snuffed by the mist, until finally Lake Paduan was gone from sight.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
We flew until the next dawn, then landed in a clearing near the horses. The sky was a tumultuous gray, thick and pregnant with rain. But the young sun threaded through cracks in the clouds, and I basked in its watery light.
I had no idea where we were going, but I didn’t care. As long as I was away from that wretched island, I was content. Not even the sun, whose rim grew darker and redder by the hour, worried me. I would far rather face Emperor Khanujin’s wrath than the creatures of Lapzur.
Edan shifted into his human form, sprawled on the ground. His eyes fluttered open, and he bolted upright. “Are you—”
“I’m fine,” I lied quickly.
I wasn’t fine. What I had seen on that island still wrenched at my heart—Mama and Finlei and Sendo alive…I hated the demon for twisting my precious memories of them, and for reopening a wound I had struggled so hard to close.
A little voice inside urged me to tell Edan about my encounter with the demon: I could still feel his claws on my neck. Yes, he had touched me. But nothing had happened. I’d defeated him—his terrible howl still rang in my ears, the sight of his charred bones burned into my memory.
“I’m fine,” I repeated. I looked up at Edan and nestled my head in its special nook on his shoulder. I had so many questions for him, but the words wouldn’t come out. Instead I said, “You were right. It was the hardest of the three.”
“It’s different for everyone,” he said slowly. “What did you see?”
I rubbed my temple, my fingertips buzzing with heat and my body tingling. Edan would be overly dramatic about it if I told him, so I didn’t. No doubt it was from exhaustion.
“Finlei and Sendo. And my mother. They were still alive, and we were all so happy. Baba was happy too, and he was still sewing. And Keton…he’d never fought in the war.” My voice was choked with emotion, my throat raw and tight. “I didn’t want to leave. I almost forgot…everything.”
Edan wound a stray piece of my hair around his finger and tucked it behind my ear. “Even me?” he asked softly, but with a hint of mischief.
“Even you.”
He touched his forehead to mine. “Then I’ll have to insinuate myself into your life more deeply, Maia Tamarin.”
That made me smile. “I suppose so.”
Edan lifted his head and traced my smile. “There, my fierce tailor is back.”
“No more xitara?”
“I thought you didn’t like it.”
“It grew on me,” I admitted.
Edan’s mouth set into a line; he was about to make a confession. “I didn’t mean it as little lamb, you know. You were always too strong and brave for that.”
“But—”
“In Old A’landan, it does mean little lamb. But in Narat, what I grew up speaking, it means…brightest one.”
“Brightest one,” I whispered. The words sang in my heart. “You called me that, even when we’d just met?”
“I meant it for your tailoring skills then,” Edan teased. “And now for what you are to me.” The playfulness on his face faded. “The whole time on Lapzur, I was afraid I’d never have a chance to tell you. I was afraid I’d lose you.”
I wanted to hug Edan close and tell him he’d never lose me. But a sudden hollowness overcame me as I remembered the demon’s touch.
Unaware, Edan placed a warm hand on my shoulder. “The magic of those islands is strong, but you did well. It was brilliant, using the sunlight to ward off the ghosts. If not for you, we might both still be there.” He stroked my cheek. “And now you have the blood of stars.”
To my relief, Edan didn’t ask to see it. He simply kissed me on the nose, then left to tend the horses. When he wasn’t looking, I took the demon’s vial from my pocket. Its iridescent contents sparkled in my hand, the colors so rich and infinite it was as if I held a handful of diamonds under a rainbow. But when I held the vial by its stopper and did not touch the glass, everything dulled, becoming dark as slate. It could easily be mistaken for a bottle of ink, not a precious liquid capable of granting immense power. Not the blood of stars.
I closed my fist over the vial, the intensity of its light making my fingers glow.
The hardest part was over. Once we got to the Autumn Palace, I’d have to sew Amana’s children into three dresses: a challenge that had once agonized me, but not anymore. Now I couldn’t wait to thread the magic of the sun and moon and stars through my fingers, to sew it into three magnificent gowns worthy of the gods, and finally be done with this quest.
Edan returned with Opal and Rook, and Opal cantered toward me. I ran to hug my horse. She nuzzled me back, but she was more focused on the wildflowers brushing against my calves. As she bent her head to graze, I stroked her neck fondly. How good it felt to be back among the living.
I reached for my canteen and took a long sip. “It’s very warm here.”
“No, it’s not,” Edan said, frowning.
I exhaled sharply. The tingling in my body hadn’t stopped. Now it rose, creeping up to my neck. How my skin burned there, so hot it hurt just to breathe. Dread curdled in my stomach. “I don’t feel so well. I feel…feverish.”
He touched my forehead and took my hands. My knuckles were pale, almost white. “Maia, look at me,” he demanded. “What happened to you on the isle? Did you…”
“Not the ghosts.” I wavered. “But the demon…touched me…just before I stabbed him.”
Edan pushed aside my hair. Whatever he saw on my neck made his jaw tighten. “Damn it! We need to get you as far from the islands as possible.” He pushed me toward the horses and lifted me onto Rook’s saddle before I could protest.
Dazedly, I leaned forward. “I thought we were out of danger.”
“Not far enough.” He leapt behind me onto Rook. “It’ll be best if we stay off the Great Spice Road. I know a shortcut to the Autumn Palace.” He pressed two fingers to my pulse. “If you start to lose feeling in your limbs, tell me at once.”
I gulped. “All right.”
Thunder boomed above us, and a storm spilled from the sky in a relentless shower. Edan tucked my head under his chin, but rain still streamed down my cheeks. I pressed my ear against his chest, listening to his heart beat steadily against the counterpoint of Rook’s hooves.
We rode in the rain for hours. The horses galloped at a valiant pace, over hills and valleys, until we finally reached a canyon where the Leyang River curved through the walls like a ribbon. We had to stop for the horses to rest. Edan reined them into a shallow cavity in the rock, barely big enough to fit all of us. By the middle of the afternoon, the rain finally weakened, but I still heard it dribble down the cliffs.
“A-are my dresses in the trunks?” I asked, my lips moving even though I couldn’t feel them. I shivered. “They c-c-can’t g-get wet.”
“They’ll be all right.” Edan cupped my chin, sweeping rain from the side of my nose with his thumb. His own face was slick with rain, but he didn’t bother wiping the water from his eyes. “You will too. Just rest.”
“I can’t sleep,” I said. “My body feels stiff. Hurts to move.” My teeth chattered uncontrollably. “T-tell m-me what’s h-h-happening to me.”
Edan threw his cloak over me and I waited for him to explain. He seemed reluctant to.
“He has marked you,” he said. “It means he has a piece of your soul…and until he chooses to devour it, he can follow you.”
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Even in my state, I knew that was very, very bad. “F-follow m-me where?”
“Anywhere,” Edan said woodenly.
The tingling reached my lips. “I thought…I thought I’d killed him.”
“Demons are difficult to kill.” Edan wouldn’t look at me. “I blame myself. I thought I would be enough to distract Bandur….” His voice trailed off, and he turned to me. “No harm will come to you. I swear it.”
The horses neighed, and Edan straightened, his body tense and alert.
I didn’t hear anything, other than that the rain had stopped. “What is it?”
A beat. Then Edan replied gravely, “We’re not alone.”
“B-b-bandits?”
Edan put a finger to his lips. “The shansen’s men. They must have been tracking us.”
“What do we do?”
Edan was already taking out his bow. “You do nothing. They’re not after you.” He threw a blanket over our trunks. “Go east. Get out of the forest as fast as you can. If anyone follows you, don’t hesitate to use the dagger as I taught you.”
I tried to protest, but Edan’s mind was made up. He lifted me onto Opal. “Hiyah!” he shouted, slapping her back.
Opal burst into a gallop, and I clung to her neck, my pulse racing unsteadily. I was so weak I couldn’t turn back to see Edan vanish into the canyon; simply holding on to my horse was a struggle enough.
I might never see him again, I realized. If he died, I wouldn’t know for days, maybe more. He’d be alone, like my brothers.
Whatever sense I had left begged me to keep going—what use was I to Edan like this? I’d only get in his way. But my heart overruled my jumbled thoughts, and I pulled back on the reins. Opal reared, her forelegs pawing the air.
With a cry, I fell off her back onto the slick road. I sprang to my feet, my knees barely holding me up. My vision was blurred, my body sweating from the fever. Where the demon had touched my neck, it burned hotter than before, but I endured the pain. I had to, if I was going to help Edan.
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