The Royal Wizard (40 page)

“Yes,” the witch answered at once. “Because you will strike at him where he is most vulnerable.”

“Ahh,” the djinn breathed. “Wrath. Sweeter than a newborn’s blood.”

“I want you to strike them down.”

“A dangerous task and not without a price.”

“I will pay it,” the witch said.

“You do not wish to know what I will demand of you?”

She could not hear what else the northerners said, but she did see the dark haired one bring forth two small cups. When the king and his woman nodded, clutching each other’s hand, the man gave one cup to each. They, in turn each took a child and fed them from the cups.

“Now, creature, strike now!”

The djinn crushed the flame between his palms and it exploded in every direction, knocking the witch down. From the ground, she looked up into the smoke left behind at what the djinn had wrought. The children screamed and one of them burst into flames. Their parents and the dragon rushed to save them, but the witch knew it was too late.

Shaking, she touched a hand to her heart, then her lips, and finally her forehead. “For you, my sweet Mari. I do this for you.”

“You did this for yourself,” the djinn said, and then hard hands curled around her arms and yanked her up off the ground. The witch screamed. “And now I take my reward.”

The witch struggled against the djinn’s hold in vain. No, not a djinn. A true fire spirit never would have been able to leave its circle prison. As the wind rushed them both, the creature’s face wavered and changed into something grotesque and terrible. Eyes slanted crooked in its face, its nose flattened into almost nothing and its mouth stretched halfway around its head, opening on several rows of sharp teeth.

A
daeva
, a demon!

The witch screamed again, her own mouth forced wide open as the
daeva
blew noxious smoke into it. She breathed it in; she had no choice. The smoke was a living thing inside her, stretching her, pushing her aside to make room for itself. It hurt in unimaginable ways as the
daeva
cast her out.

Then the pain was gone and she opened her eyes. She saw everything, the entire night in every direction at once. She looked down at her body and saw it move. It rose from the sands and looked back at her, and its black eyes turned red as the
daeva
smiled from her own face. “Do not fear, no one,” it said with her voice. “You may be nothing now, but a deal is a deal. I will give you the vengeance you so desired. The Imarah will pay for what they’d done, just as you wished. You simply won’t be around to see it.”

“What do we do?” the voice of a weeping woman whispered, turning her attention to the dissipating smoke of the
daeva
’s spell.

“I will take the girl,” the dragon said.

“No!” the king cried.

“Be easy, Saeran. She cannot remain here. It is too dangerous. I will keep her safe and you have only to think of her to be there with her. You must trust me. She is dragonborn, more powerful than any one of us, and until she can control it, she will need to be in a place where her fire will harm no one.”

“And my son?”

A sigh. “He is a creature of water, not fire. I cannot help him.”

“Then I will,” the woman said fiercely.

It was only when she heard the power in her voice that the witch realized what she’d done. No human woman had a voice like that, one which could command the earth and heavens to move to her tune.
I have failed. I never stood a chance.
And she had paid a terrible price for the attempt.

It was the last thought she had before the northern wind scattered her across the desert sky.

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