Spin the Dawn(106)

“Where will you go?”

“To find a source of magic that exists beyond the oath.”

“Is that…possible?”

“Enchanters are born with magic. Even when our oath is broken, some of it remains in us, only we cannot rekindle it. But my teachers told me of a freed enchanter in Agoria who could still wield some magic. If he is still alive, perhaps he can help me.”

“Edan, I made my wish for you to be free, not to—”

“This is how I choose to be free,” he interrupted gently. “Until I know you are safe from Bandur—and Khanujin—I must find a way to protect you. And when I do, I will come back and take you with me. You are my oath now, Maia Tamarin. And you’ll never be free of me.”

I took his hand and pressed it against my cheek. His warmth spread across my face, melting away the cold. “I know.”

He touched my forehead, his fingers caressing my skin. “May Amana watch over you until I find you again.”

I mustered a weak laugh. “I thought you didn’t believe in the gods.”

“I’m beginning to,” he said in earnest. “Just as I’m beginning to believe you are A’landi’s best hope.” He reached to the floor and passed me our carpet. “Take this. If you are ever in danger, use it to flee. Use it to find me.”

“You should keep it.”

“It can’t hear me any longer.” Sadness seeped into Edan’s voice, despite his effort to hide it.

He pulled me close and kissed me. Roughly, then deeply, as if the intensity of his love would change my mind and make me go with him. It left me breathless. I clung to his neck, listening to the steady pounding of his heart.

He stroked my hair; then he took my cheeks between his hands and lifted my head so our eyes were level. “Thank you, Maia, for freeing me.”

“Be safe,” I whispered. “Remember, you’re mortal now. Don’t do anything foolish, and don’t take too long coming back to me.”

A faint smile touched his lips. “I won’t.”

He unthreaded his fingers from mine; then, with one last kiss, he turned and was gone.

I wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. Cold gripped my heart, twisting it tighter and tighter as if preparing it to break. Numbly, I closed my curtains, letting shadows fall over my room.

Drums pounded from the temple, a sign the emperor had arrived for his noon prayers to celebrate the red sun. The sound made the water in my washbowl quiver.

I dipped my fingers in the water and splashed my face.

“You freed your enchanter,” murmured a dark, rippling voice. “A mistake, Maia Tamarin. A grave mistake. I warned you that if Edan broke his oath, I would return for you.”

I froze. I couldn’t pick out where the sound was coming from. It seemed to resonate from the walls.

“Look again,” the voice whispered.

I swallowed, then moved into my workroom. The loom was empty, as were the chairs and table. I went back into my bedroom—there was Bandur, in the mirror.

“Did you know,” he said, “they used to play drums to scare off demons?”

I pulled back my shoulders and straightened. “If you’ve come for me, I’m not afraid.”

“Your trembling voice gives you away, Maia Tamarin,” Bandur purred. “I only wish to have a word with you.” The demon took on Sendo’s visage, and my brother smiled at me in the mirror. “Perhaps this will help.”

“Leave my brother out of this,” I spat.

Bandur laughed, and his features rearranged themselves into his usual form. “You surprised me, Maia Tamarin. Edan’s soul was a great prize, but you, the tailor who summoned Amana to life—you might be more valuable yet.”

“If you’ve come to take me to Lapzur, then do it.” I clenched my fists so tightly that my nails bit into my palms. “Or have you not the strength to cross this far from your realm?”

Bandur floated in the glass, his flat, obsidian eyes that bled ash and death gazing at me. “I don’t need to take you to Lapzur.” His hand pierced the mirror, and I staggered back. “You will come of your own volition.”

“I’ll never go back to that treacherous place,” I snapped. “Never.”

“We shall see,” Bandur said with a laugh. “Now that your beloved enchanter is free, he cannot protect you from me. In due time, you’ll beg to take my place as guardian of Lapzur.”

His certainty prickled my stomach with dread. “You’re delusional, demon.”

“Am I?” he rasped. “If you had been a mere girl, your fate would have been easier. I would have spread your bones across the earth so your soul would wander restless. But no, Edan was right. You are no mere girl. So now, the price you pay must be higher. Amana warned you of this.”

My knees should have shaken, and my stomach should have clenched, but I felt nothing. I looked at him defiantly. “I’m not afraid.”

“Then it has already begun,” said Bandur. “Demons do not feel fear.”

The cold surging in my chest rioted, and I let out a suffocated gasp. “No. No.”

“Yes, with every second, you become more like me. Soon the drums will only remind you of the heart you once had. Every beat you miss, every chill that touches you is a sign of the darkness folding over you. One day, it will take you away from all that you know and cherish: your memories, your face, your name. Not even your enchanter will love you when you wake as a demon.”