Empress of a Thousand Skies(38)

“No!” Seotra’s voice came from somewhere in the stacks. “It’s a trap. Get her out of here!”

Just then a high-pitched whine sounded throughout the room, a noise that reminded Rhee of charge, of current, of electricity humming to life. Before she could wonder what it was, they were thrown backward by the force of a blinding white explosion.

Debris was flung everywhere, and charred paper and ash fell among them like snow. Rhee could barely hear anything; it was like the world had been muted and replaced by a low hum. She pushed herself up on her elbows and saw Tai Reyanna, a few feet away but unmoving. Rhee tried to call to her but could barely hear her own voice. She crawled through pieces of splintered bookshelf, through fluttering paper, feeling as if her body, too, had been blown apart, as if it were taking forever for her brain to send commands to her arms and legs.

Tai Reyanna opened her eyes when Rhee shook her. But immediately the hazy look fell away, her eyes wide, as she pulled Rhee close and said something in urgent tones. Rhee couldn’t make out her words over the hum in her ears.

“I can’t hear you,” she said, then tried to repeat louder. “Stay here!” Tai Reyanna’s eyes were wide. She looked like she was on the verge of tears. Rhee had never seen her cry.

Fear filled up every atom of Rhee’s body. She felt like it would overflow out of her eyes, but she pushed herself forward. She slipped between two bookcases that had miraculously remained upright. She squeezed the hilt of the knife so tightly her knuckles went white.

She sidestepped down the row, still trying to clear the buzzing from her ears. She used to hide in her mother’s library, too, back on Kalu. Those floors were covered with tasseled rugs, woven through with red and orange hues, so thick it felt like a forest floor. She’d crawl along those very rugs, through a maze of table legs and chairs in a game of hide-and-seek—and she remembered now how Josselyn had surprised her once, poking her head out upside down from the table above, her thick braid swinging like a pendulum as she said: “BOO!”

Another explosion. This time Rhee dropped and clamped her hands to her ears, and when the dust and paper mist cleared, she found she hadn’t lost full use of her hearing: From somewhere nearby, she could hear Seotra moaning.

Someone else was after Seotra too.

Maybe someone who didn’t want her to have answers?

There was no more time to think. She spun around the bookshelf and had a quick view of a bloodied Seotra on the ground, and a tall figure in a hooded cape standing above him.

When the man began to turn, she spun her leg out in a low roundhouse. As he collapsed, she jumped, driving him to the ground and then mounting his back. She stuck her knee in a pressure point at the base of his spine and sunk the point of her knife in his neck so that it barely broke skin. It happened so quickly that only when she was positioned did she see his neck was covered in tattoos, and that he had dirty blond hair and wore a black ring on his right hand.

“Dahlen?” She moved off of him and stumbled backward, horrified. “What—what are you doing?”

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Dahlen extended his right hand toward Seotra as if he were commanding him to stop, and Rhee watched in horror and fascination as electricity gathered in the base of his palm. It was the ring, Fontisian technology at work. Tiny surges flared outward like the veins in a leaf, seemingly grabbing energy in the air and burning it, converting the air to forks of blue and white flame.

“Stop,” Rhee said. The stream of smokeless fire wrapped Seotra up and lifted him off the ground, folding him nearly in two, as he moaned in pain. “STOP!” She sprang to tackle Dahlen. But she crashed into a wall of air, clear but firm—and it wouldn’t let her get to him.

“He is a war criminal,” Dahlen said. “He deserves what he gets.”

“Stop! Stop! Stop!” Rhee was screaming so hard her voice was raw. She ran again and again for Seotra, trying to break the invisible barrier, but it was impossible. She was bruised, thrown backward off her feet as if she were running into a solid wall. And finally, mercifully, Dahlen did stop. The Regent collapsed backward, his mouth dark with blood, his clothing smoking.

“Why?” Rhee couldn’t help it. She was crying now. “Why?”

“He does not deserve your tears,” Dahlen said coldly. “He betrayed the order, and he betrayed you.”

Seotra struggled to sit up. “I’ve made peace with your Elder, boy!”

“And what of all the souls you took?” Dahlen asked. “You can’t make peace with the dead.”

Seotra shook his head and looked at Rhee. “I never betrayed you.”

“You betrayed my family,” she said, but as the words came out she felt uncertainty gripping her. Her skin felt tight. That smile she’d seen . . . the words she’d overheard . . . fragments, really. What did they mean?

“That’s what you think?” He was consumed by a hacking cough that brought up more black blood. “I swear on my life, Rhiannon. I loved your family like my own. I’ve wanted to speak with you for so long. So many memories I wanted you to see. I’ve been trying to protect you. I’ve been—”

The words died in his throat. Dahlen held up a hand again, and the Regent began to seize. Sparks danced from his body. Fire flowed like a ribbon tying Dahlen and Seotra together. Then Seotra’s body burst into sudden flame. He mumbled, but Rhee couldn’t hear, couldn’t understand. Only one phrase reached her: