CYRUS ALLOWED HIMSELF ONLY A second to touch grief before his spine straightened as if wrenched taut, like the laces of a drawstring. The wind formed almost a cocoon around them, thick as it lashed their bodies, the calls of morning birds clashing with the thunderous crash of the falls. A

heavy mist ensnared them as they plummeted, and though Alizeh shivered, Cyrus couldn’t feel the chill; fear and fury seemed to be burning him alive. He’d just made a decision, and now he would see it through.

Alizeh would not die.

“Look at me,” he said wretchedly, pulling her close even as his torn hand shook in agony. It seemed some strange twist of fate that he should

continue to bleed all over her, and if he’d more time to reflect on this fact he might’ve screamed for how much he hated it. “Alizeh. Please. Lift your head. Look at me.”

With great effort, she did.

Her eyes were glazed, flickering silver and brown in the rising light. She studied him like he might’ve been a dream. “Why? Because you’re

terribly handsome?”

“Don’t be funny,” he said, breathing hard. “This isn’t funny.”

She blinked, her head lolling softly to one side. “I can’t feel my legs.”

His heart heaved in his chest. That she’d lost sensation in her lower body meant the arrowhead had impaled her spine. Briefly, the southern king turned his gaze to the churning sea. They were falling at a dizzying clip, but the drop was so steep it was almost a mercy: they’d have nearly a minute

before hitting water. If Cyrus had any hope of saving her he’d have to perform complicated magic before they made impact – but he was going slightly blind, his vision occasionally flaring with light. Worse, he was losing sensation in his left hand.

“Kaveh!” he called out.

The response was almost immediate. Cyrus heard the clamor of surging, crashing waves before they broke open to reveal the bulk of a shimmering dragon, its fiery hide emerging from the depths like a flame in flight. Every one of Cyrus’s dragons was precious to him, but there were three in particular he loved as if they were his own family.

Kaveh was one of them.

By far the most sardonic of the fleet, Kaveh was also one of his oldest dragons, and Cyrus knew he would require the animal’s careful expertise now, perhaps more than ever.

“Cyrus,” said Alizeh suddenly, half gasping the word. “Where are you?”

His body was shaking as he held her, and he found he was grateful she’d turned away again, that she couldn’t see his face. “I’m here,” he said roughly. “I’m right here.”

“I just – I just remembered,” she said. “I can’t swim.”

There was no fear in her voice, only mild surprise – as if this were all a stroke of bad luck, a disappointing inconvenience. Cyrus didn’t point out that she wouldn’t have been able to swim anyway, given that she’d lost feeling in her legs. He only closed his eyes against her hair and fought the desperate crush of his chest, the violence of his affection for her. How she managed to disarm him even now, on the brink of death, he could not understand. She’d wept for his pain, wiped the blood from his eyes, taken

an arrow in the back for him. She’d shown him more loyalty and tenderness in two days than he’d ever felt in his life, and he knew then, with a force that drove the air from his lungs, that he would never survive her.

“Don’t worry, angel,” he said quietly. “You won’t have to.”

Kaveh gave a small roar, exhaling sparks as he approached. Cyrus felt

the dragon’s confusion, then concern, and communicated without speaking, as he often did with animals –

I’ll explain later.

Kaveh made another sound in response, a snort that nearly singed the king’s hair. The flap of the beast’s enormous wings was enough to whip Alizeh’s curls across Cyrus’s face, and as he struggled to push the tendrils out of his eyes, the animal swooped neatly beneath them, breaking their fall with a complete lack of finesse. Cyrus fumbled desperately for purchase with his injured hand, grasping at the dragon’s hide to stabilize their bodies while he pulled Alizeh across his lap, hoping to absorb the brunt of the impact; given their tremendous downward speed, this proved nearly impossible. Alizeh gave a sharp cry as they were seated, while Cyrus, who’d made no sound at all, nearly fainted from the pain.

Of all things, he sensed Kaveh laughing at him. You all right, sire?

Cyrus did not dignify this with a response.

His every muscle taut with restraint, it was slow moments before the southern king could breathe again, before the haze cleared from his eyes. As they gently ascended through mist and cascades, Cyrus was able to discern screams from above, and when he craned his neck he could almost make out the shapes of the shouting idiots, their foggy forms tilting precariously over the crag, shrieks all but incomprehensible save a single: “Dragon!”

Kaveh was moving slowly for the sake of their injuries, and the higher they flew, the more Cyrus relented to an overpowering relief. The feeling hollowed out, however, when he realized Alizeh had grown lifeless, even as she trembled violently in his arms.

“Alizeh,” he whispered. “Please. Wake up.” She didn’t respond.

He knew he should inspect her wound in order to assess the damage, but Cyrus himself was in a horrible state of disrepair. His injured hand was now all but matted in blood, the affected arm convulsing as his fingers sparked and faded with sensation. His leg, at least, had received some magical care, but though the wound had stopped bleeding, it gaped open, a neat hole blown straight through muscle, radiating pain. Still, he couldn’t do more for his own damage; he feared he might need to save what magic he had left for Alizeh.

His breathing was strained as he turned her slightly in his arms, the movement jostling her injury despite his best efforts to be careful. He expected her to gasp or at least flinch in response, but she remained motionless; her eyes were closed; her face drawn and pale. Even her trembling had begun to slow.

Cyrus struggled to hide his panic.

Urgently he whispered her name, willing her to speak, to open her eyes. He wanted her to yell at him, to threaten him, to pester him with her endless questions. There were no demands from her to know what was happening; no smart quips about the dragon; no threats to fling herself into the water just to be away from him. All this struck Cyrus like a blow to the sternum, and when he finally sighted her injury, he was dealt another: the arrowhead was lost in the folds of her borrowed cloak, at least three inches embedded in her flesh. Given the complexities of the barbed broadhead, it would not

be a simple matter to remove the bolt – and he was in no state to offer her proper surgical and magical care.

There was only one other alternative – and Cyrus hoped she would forgive him for it, later.

“Kaveh,” he said. “She needs to be delivered to the Diviners.”

He felt at once the dragon’s disapproval. All due respect, sire, but you’re not allowed there anymore. You know that.

“Of course I know that,” said Cyrus, his mood darkening. As if he needed such a reminder. “You will leave me at the cliff, then take her alone.”

Cold quiet from the animal. They were hovering in midair now, stalled.

Please, Cyrus added silently.

But why, sire? Yaasi said you and the girl nearly killed each other on

the flight back from Ardunia. Wouldn’t it be better if she died? You said she was the devil’s bride.

“A great deal has changed since we last spoke,” said the king, wincing as his leg spasmed. “I was wrong about her. She’s not allied with Iblees – and she was injured just now trying to save my life.”

Kaveh gave no response to that, though his surprise was loud.

“I know,” Cyrus said quietly. “I don’t understand, either. I’ve given her nothing but cause to murder me.”

More surprise. And she doesn’t know? About your father?

Alizeh’s eyelids fluttered briefly, and Cyrus hesitated. The bruise along her cheekbone appeared swollen and tender, the sight both devastating and confounding to him. He didn’t know why she’d been lying on the ground

this morning nor how she’d been injured; and given their collective

response to the drama, it seemed unlikely her friends had been the ones to harm her, leaving no obvious suspect. It was yet another mystery he’d have to wait to unravel, and Cyrus, feeling both weak and helpless, finally allowed himself to stare at her. He studied the exquisite planes of her face, the fullness of her lips, lashes soft and inky against her pallid skin. It was

dangerous to allow himself to linger, memorizing details – for the more he grew to care for her, the more unbearable it became to look at her.

Cyrus tore his eyes away, fresh bitterness fouling his mood further. “No,” he said finally. “She doesn’t know.”

She would never know.

Iblees had forbidden Cyrus from speaking the truth to another person, but the southern king had not been precluded from confiding in nonhuman creatures. Such an exception was only possible, of course, because the young man possessed the rare ability to communicate using just the mind. Whereas nearly all others endowed with this skill were committed to the priesthood, Cyrus – whose deal with the devil had earned him an expulsion from the temple – had been unable to complete his journey as a Diviner, leaving him the unusual layman with this skill.

Still, few animals were interested in conversing with humans, and fewer still were capable of communicating more than basic information; which meant that his dragons, whose emotional intelligence encompassed an astonishing range of feeling, were his only confidants in the known world.

Sire, said Kaveh, his tone inscrutable. I fear you’re losing focus.

“As if I don’t know that,” Cyrus muttered.

Days ago you would’ve considered this situation an opportunity. She put herself in harm’s way through no fault of yours. Either let her die and be done with her, or make saving her life conditional upon accepting your hand. You need to marry the girl – this is your chance –

“You think this hasn’t occurred to me?” he said. “I simply can’t do it, Kaveh. I already had to drag her here, and that was when I thought she was conspiring with the devil to usurp my throne. Now that I know otherwise,

how could I level such cruelty against her? Can you not see the difficulty –”

You murdered the northern Diviners without a second thought.

“You know that was different,” said Cyrus sharply. “When Zaal was born the Diviners knew how the prophecy would end – they agreed it had to be done, and they set the terms –”

They may have been willing, but you were the one who cast the curse that killed them, just as you were the one who slayed Zaal. Was it for nothing? Everything you’ve endured? You would risk it all, sire, simply to please one girl’s sensibilities?

Cyrus squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly hating himself. No matter what choice he made, he would lose. The devil had made certain of that.

No, came Kaveh’s voice. The answer is no. She’s not worth such a price.

Cyrus fell silent and was soon spared responding; Kaveh had started flying again, and they were now approaching the top of the precipice, where Hazan’s angry cries rang out sharp and clear. They’d flown into the heart of an argument.

“– had a deal!” he was shouting. “I warned you – if any harm came to her –”

“Can you not imagine my agony?” came the prince’s heated reply. “How can you bring yourself to accuse me when you know it was an accident – that I could never have meant –”

“You could never?” Hazan laughed darkly. “Are you quite certain? When you confessed to me just yesterday that you intended to kill her?”

Cyrus stiffened. As if he didn’t have ammunition enough to murder the idiot.

“What?” The loud girl, Huda, spoke. “Is that true?”

“Oh, no,” said the gangly boy too quickly. “No, miss, it can’t be true.” “I had every right to be uncertain,” Kamran shot back. “I had every

right to doubt. It was never clear whether she could be trusted. The circumstances were disastrous – even you could acknowledge –”

“All right, I suppose it’s true,” Omid mumbled. “But I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”

“I’m sure he did mean it,” added the older, wiry one.

“Be certain of one thing,” Hazan said with quiet menace. “If she doesn’t survive this, you will know the full breadth of my rage. I’ll rip out every

bone in your body before I take off your fucking head.” This last part he all but bellowed, the words echoing across the grounds.

Fascinated by this absurd exchange – between a crown prince and his lesser – Cyrus almost smiled.

“You are overreacting –” Kamran tried again. “And you are not reacting enough!”

Prepare to descend, sire. Though how you hope to keep her seated on my back in your absence, I cannot imagine.

They were about level with the offending cliff now, Kaveh carefully hovering, and the entire unsavory scene came into focus. Hazan and Kamran were at each other’s throats, so preoccupied with their anger they thawed a beat later than the others, the three of whom gaped in horror at Cyrus, then Alizeh, who remained unmoving in his arms.

The loud girl screamed.

“She’s dead!” Miss Huda screamed again, shriller this time. “Heaven help us, she’s dead – we killed her – she’s dead –”

Cyrus turned away from this chaos.

He heard it all, of course – their collective shock, their shouted questions, their in-fighting – but he turned his back on it, feeling certain

now that Hazan would keep the prince from any further attempts at murder. Cyrus needed to magic Alizeh upright so she’d survive the journey to the Diviners, and, as his mind was splintering with pain gathered from any number of grievances, he needed a moment to focus.

There were great risks involved.

Draining his store of magic would leave him deeply vulnerable to attack – and worse, would send him into a spiral of fatigue. He hadn’t slept in over forty-eight hours; between sleep deprivation and blood loss, he wondered

how he’d manage basic motor skills. He’d need to get to his rooms as quickly as possible after performing this last bit of divination for Alizeh, but how he’d accomplish that with this troupe of clowns to contend with, he didn’t know.

Cyrus took a deep breath, a tremor rocking his body as he exhaled. He gathered Alizeh gently against his chest, pressed his good hand as close as he could to her wound, and, with great effort, transferred the remaining

magic in his body directly into hers.

He felt the change in her, the pulse of energy returning to her limbs, and she cried out in response, this breathless sound sending his small audience into renewed chaos – “She’s not dead! She’s not dead!” – even as her cry soon dissolved into a whimper. He couldn’t heal her, not with the arrow in

her back; but he’d lent her some pain relief, at least, and he was certain she’d now remain seated until reaching her destination. It was enough for now – it had to be – because just as her eyes fluttered open, Cyrus nearly

swayed. Without magic to keep him awake, he was suddenly so tired he felt he’d lost control of his limbs. Cyrus, who’d never touched spirits, imagined the feeling was akin to being drunk.

Miraculously, he lifted her off his lap and sat her on the dragon, satisfied when she didn’t pitch sideways. Still, his thoughts seemed to slur. “Go,” he breathed, digging deep for the last of his adrenaline. “Promise me – promise you’ll take care of her.”

“What?” Alizeh was squinting at him.

Cyrus startled. He hadn’t expected her to speak, and he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Still, she appeared only half-awake, her head canting to one side even as her body remained upright.

Blearily, she said, “Who are you talking to?”

His heart was beating faster now. “My dragon,” he said.

“Oh.” A little line formed between her brows. “You have a dragon?” “I – Yes.”

“Just like you did before.” She stifled a yawn, her eyes closing. “Do I get one, too?”

Cyrus frowned. “Would that… please you?” “Yes, I think so.”

“All right.” He blinked slowly. “You can have a dragon.”

Kaveh’s head gave a sudden jerk, smoke curling from his nostrils. Are you quite out of your mind, sire? You will not give the girl a dragon.

Cyrus bristled. You live under my protection, in service of the crown. I’ll give her a dragon if I like.

Well it won’t be me.

“Cyrus?”

“Yes?”

“Why are people shouting?”

With effort, Cyrus glanced at the others. Kamran was threatening from afar to disembowel him; the three goons were in various states of hysteria; and Hazan looked as if he was contemplating a running leap off the cliff and onto the dragon. Terrible idea, that.

“I suppose people shout sometimes,” he said as he turned to her. “Cyrus?”

He felt delirious. He was staring at her with the awe of an idiot perceiving the sun for the first time. He nearly drew his hand down her cheek. Nearly kissed the side of her neck. Nearly slumped against her and fell asleep. “Yes, angel?”

“We died, didn’t we?”

The question was such a surprise he briefly jolted awake, and was about to deny it when she spoke again.

“We died and we’re together – and we’re not in hell,” she murmured. She nearly tipped over, but the magic yanked her upright. “And you got a dragon. Maybe I’ll get a dragon.”

He swallowed.

She patted his arm blindly. “That must mean you’re not so bad.” Cyrus took this like a shot of poison; he couldn’t bear to respond.

The idiot Jinn is going to jump, said Kaveh. You must go, sire. You’ll receive word as soon as she’s safe.

It was true; Hazan had a determined gleam in his eye. He was shaking off the child, whose futile efforts to pull the young man away from the

ledge were almost endearing.

I’m entrusting her to your care, said Cyrus. Please. Protect her at all costs.

As you wish. I’d only like my disapproval noted.

He sighed.

With a last look at Alizeh, the king dismounted carefully; Kaveh had extended a wing toward the cliff, a veritable bridge to uncertainty. Cyrus cleared this distance as quickly as his dense head and injured leg allowed, and once across was rewarded for his agony with the dramatic excoriations of his unwanted guests.

“You sick fiend, what have you done with her?” “– bad was the injury? How deep did it –” “Carry her off the dragon, you demented ass!”

“Is she dead? Please tell me if she’s dead? It wasn’t clear –”

Cyrus glanced back just as Kaveh roared, he and his rider setting off into the morning light against a backdrop too beautiful to suit. He knew she’d be all right. He knew the Diviners would easily mend her. It wasn’t fear for her life that gripped him now; it was fear for his own. He shouldn’t care for her so. He could not. It would kill him before he was ready to die, and then – And then all this torture would have been for nothing.

With a heavy head, he faced his visitors.

Of the five who stood before him, it was Kamran whose gaze was

impossible to ignore. Anger and hatred were so alive in the prince’s eyes they nearly forged a separate soul.

It was the last thing he saw before he collapsed.