The Forbidden Wish(82)

The Watchmaidens are cunning, and they draw the soldiers apart. Any one of the girls is the match of two soldiers, but we are outnumbered nearly four to one, and more soldiers will doubtless arrive any moment once Sulifer learns we are here.

A man swipes at my legs with his spear, trying to trip me, and I leap over it and spin, my sword catching his arm and forcing him to drop the weapon. He lands on his knees, white with pain, and I knock him unconscious with the hilt of my sword. With a moment to breathe, I look around and see we are being pressed back, their numbers proving too strong. More soldiers come running in from our left, and I hear Sulifer shouting above them:

“Kill the traitor queen! Bring me the lamp!”

I drop my hands and shut my eyes, letting myself dissolve into the wind, scarlet smoke. I swell and expand, filling the wide avenue and obscuring the soldiers’ vision. The new arrivals skid to a halt, confused and disoriented, slashing blindly in the fog.

“Fall back!” Caspida cries. “To me!”

The Watchmaidens follow the sound of her voice, and I cover them as they retreat behind the wall. While the girls catch their breath, the soldiers advance from the palace, their ranks swelling with black-clad Eristrati. They press on slowly, blinded by my smoke but driven onward by Sulifer’s commands. I withdraw to join the princess, shifting back into my human form.

“They are nearly upon us,” I say. “Thirty, forty, perhaps fifty of them, and more coming. We won’t last five minutes.”

Above us, the sky is growing darker despite the sun rising. Black clouds gather near the summit of Mount Tissia, and I know that Zhian has reached Nardukha, and that our time grows thin. I watch the mountain anxiously, knowing the real battle waits at its peak.

“We have no choice,” murmurs the princess, drawing me back to the battle at hand. “Sisters, I am sorry I have led you to this.”

“We would have it no other way,” says Nessa, and the others nod and grasp hands.

“If we’re to die,” says Raz, “let us die fighting.”

At that moment, a shout turns our heads.

“For the Phoenix Queen!” the cry goes up. “For the people!”

Aladdin appears, running down the street, carrying a sword he got from who knows where. Behind him, a horde of people are racing, gripping knives and scythes, staves and camel whips. Butchers, carpet sellers, fishmongers, housewives, Parthenians of every age, size, and trade, men and women both, raise up a mighty shout.

“For the Phoenix Queen!”

“For the people!”

And even a few scattered cries of “For the Tailor’s Son!”

They all wear red armbands, and someone waves a huge banner with a phoenix sigil on it, likely stolen from a temple to Nykora, the phoenix goddess. Aladdin whoops and cheers them on and whistles when he catches sight of us. He’s flanked by Dal and Balak, the girl and the doorman from the Rings.

Behind us, the soldiers falter, realizing their numbers are not so great, not when faced with the people they’ve oppressed, cheated, and enslaved for years.

Somewhere toward the palace, Sulifer is screaming, “Fight, you fools! They’re only peasants with sticks!”

But many of those sticks are sharpened or on fire, and someone hurls a flaming brand at the soldiers. It lands harmlessly in front of them, scattering embers, but it breaks the courage of the armed men. They retreat, but not quickly enough.

Aladdin reaches me just as the fighting breaks out. He is laughing wildly, throwing his head back and crowing. Leaping up onto the wall, he pulls me after him, waving his sword like a madman.

“As soon as I told them who the Phoenix really was, that she needed our help, they dropped everything!” he says. “Look at them! They’re fantastic!”

“And look at you,” I reply, smiling. “The revolution of one. Whatever happened to not fighting for lost causes?”

“I guess I found a cause worth fighting for,” he murmurs, leaning in for a kiss, but then his eyes fix on something behind me, and his face hardens. I turn to see Caspida standing near the palace below a second-story balcony, her sword upraised and her Watchmaidens surrounding her. Above her, Sulifer leans over the railing, his eyes furious.

“He won’t even come down and fight,” Aladdin growls. “The coward.”

“Come on.” Grabbing Aladdin’s hand, I plunge through the battle, dodging spear and sword, until we reach Caspida’s side.

“Come down, Uncle!” the princess calls. “It is finished!”

“You think some rabble with kitchen knives makes you a queen?” he returns.

Caspida glances back at the people, fighting tooth and nail against the better-equipped soldiers. To her uncle she replies, “They’re exactly what makes me a queen.”

“Then let’s see how they fare against my real army.” He pulls from his cloak the black ram’s horn I made for him last night. Caspida frowns uneasily.

“What is he doing?” she asks.

“Just watch,” I murmur.

Sulifer raises the horn to his lips and sounds the call. It rings across the grounds as the vizier lowers the horn and its blast echoes away. Caspida is very still, her hand clenching the hilt of her dagger.

Behind us, the men and women continue fighting, the peasants moving in packs like wolves. More of them flood in from the city, until the noise is deafening. Sulifer sounds another blast, but it is nearly drowned out by the fight. He lowers the horn, his eyes settling on me, demanding an explanation.