In one smooth movement, he rises to his feet, mirroring my stance.
“That mission tonight, it was nothing. Any Ahira could have spied on that merchant. Whatever you promised Emmengar, whatever deal you struck… it required access to Jahanwatch, didn’t it?”
Zanyar says nothing. But his silence, the way he doesn’t deny it, is a deafening admission.
“Why did you ask me to come with you?” Taking another step back, my foot slips slightly on the uneven ground.
“I didn’t ask it,” he says with a calm, controlled voice. “You offered. If memory serves.”
He takes a step forward, making me take another step back.
“And you went along with it,” I say, my voice trembling, “knowing full well that I’d betray every Firelands secret to Martysh the instant I joined them. Unless…” I take another step back, my heel dangerously close to a steep slope. “Unless you never intended for me to join them. Did you? Why did you really bring me here?”
Dark, terrifying possibilities flood my mind, and I glare at him accusingly.
“Arien, calm down. Come here,” Zanyar says. His voice is suddenly sharp and urgent as he takes a step toward me, his hand outstretched.
I flinch back, and my foot slips on a loose stone. A scream tears from my throat as my foot lands on a steep slope, my arms flailing wildly, and then—I’m teetering, stepping backward on the slope.
“Arien!” Zanyar roars.
But it’s too late. Earth’s pull, like a relentless force, has taken over. I claw at the air in a desperate, utterly futile attempt to save myself, but my fingers grasp at nothing, finding only the cold, empty night. Zanyar lunges forward, his hand reaching, reaching… but he’s too far.
My mind screams at me to shift my weight forward. I do just that, but my body is accelerating down the slope, and I can’t find a handhold. There’s no stopping it. No reversing it. This is it.
I see Zanyar stepping onto the steep slope after me, his face filled with horror. He’ll fall, too, if he can’t find a purchase. It’s insane, suicidal. I watch it all happen as if from outside my own body. I reach the end of the slope, and I plunge into the abyss.
And then…nothing. I’m not falling anymore. No. I’m… floating. Suspended in mid-air, weightless, held by an invisible force.
My heart is pounding wildly as I stare at Zanyar, certain he’s used sorcery, and he’ll black out any second, and we’ll both plummet into the darkness. But he’s still there, inches from the cliff edge, clinging to the rock face with his footing surprisingly secure on the treacherous slope. And he’s conscious. Wide awake. Which means he didn’t use sorcery. Or it didn’t affect him the way it should have.
Time stretches like an agonizing eternity as we lock eyes, both of us breathless, suspended between terror and disbelief. Then, slowly, gently, the unseen force lifts me, higher and higher, carrying me over Zanyar and the crumbling edge of the cliff, and then, with infinite care, deposits me back on solid ground. My legs wobble, threatening to give way, but I findmy balance.
My head turns on a swivel as I search for the source of this impossible rescue. But there’s no one. Just the empty night, the wind, and the distant lights of Shemiran.
Zanyar scrambles back up the steep slope, his chest heaving. And then, as if summoned by our unspoken questions, a figure emerges from the shadows of the trees, stepping into the moonlight.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Her presence, as always, is a palpable shift in the very air around her. Dressed in her signature black leather, her silver hair catches the moonlight and reflects it with a glow. The woman who had dominated my thoughts, my dreams, my ambitions, almost every day since I was nine years old. Martyshbod Lirael. Her eyes, a piercing, almost unnervingly bright blue, lock onto mine.
How did she get here? How did she even know we were here?
A heavy silence descends, broken only by the whisper of the wind through the leaves. She stands there, the most powerful woman on the continent, observing us with a calm, assessing gaze.
Zanyar is the first to speak. “How long have you been following us?”
“Since you chose her as your partner,” Martyshbod Lirael replies calmly, her piercing blue eyes now holding Zanyar’s gaze.
The leader of Martysh, the most prestigious army in the realm, commanding over hundreds of thousands of soldiers, has been following two contenders this whole time? It seems inconceivable, yet her presence speaks for itself. Zanyar doesn’t seem shocked by this revelation, though.
“You had your men tailing me all this time, there was no need for you to trouble yourself personally.”
The warmth, the openness in him is completely gone, replaced by his usual cool, detached composure. He’s Zanyar Zareen again, theuntouchable Ahira, the heir Aramis never had.
Martyshbod Lirael’s lips curve into a slight smile, a hint of amusement that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Let’s not overestimate their success, Ahira Zareen. Their surveillance has been adequate, at best. Hardly discreet. Which is precisely why I deemed them unsuitable for tonight’s delicate operation. A wise decision, wouldn’t you agree? Considering you, a trained Fire Eye, remained blissfully unaware of my presence, even as I shadowed your every move from brothel districts to passing through enchanted gates and noble gatherings to your current predicament.” She pauses, letting her words sink in.
She must have been under an invisibility spell. But for this long? That would drain even the most powerful nine-ringed, but she appears sharp and strong after casting a spell that potent for a whole day. And why would she go to such lengths in the first place?
