Inna sat cross-legged on the sofa in Zohra's living room, a cold cup of much too sugary tea in her hands. Her eyes were dry and likely bloodshot from exhaustion, but she was too tense to relax. Since the lunar eclipse, over half an hour ago, a growing restlessness had clawed at her insides. Even Zazi's attempts to distract her with trivial conversation hadn't succeeded in easing the growing pile of burdens on her shoulders.

Inna scrubbed a hand over her face. Memories of other conversations presented themselves to her, confronting her with the increasing chaos that was her reality. Her father's angered face when she had told him about the vision. Zohra's plea to help Arran out of the terrible mess he had made. Rabyatt's charming face as he told her about his intentions to marry her.

Her fingers stroked the soulstone in the pocket of her pants. Its consoling warmth drove out some of the cold panic that had turned her blood into a glacier. She bent her head, wishing Tata was there to talk to.

The sound of something heavy scraping against the floor startled both Inna and Zohra from their daydreams. The fortune teller was up and out of the room before Inna had the chance to blink. Considering the woman's age, she moved damn fast when she wanted to.

Zohra's warm, soothing voice joined a lower one, which spoke to her in a fast-paced, nearly hysterical tone. Inna followed them to a cramped room in the back of the fortune teller's house. Arran's turquoise eyes flicked to her when she entered the room, wary and agitated. He looked very different from the man she had met that afternoon: his dark hair and his clothes were disheveled, the almond glow of his skin had dulled to an unhealthy paleness and his aura ... Inna sensed a wrongness about him before she noticed the dark edges around his orange aura.

Shadows. They hadn't been there before.

"So it's done," she whispered.

Arran narrowed his eyes at her. "What?"

She snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. "How does it feel to be cursed by a god?"

He bared his teeth into a snarl and took a step forward, wincing while doing so. Inna glimpsed down at his legs. One of his ankles was bruised and swollen, probably twisted.

Arran ignored the pain and limped closer until he towered above her. She straightened her back, refusing to be intimidated.

"What do you want me to say, princess?" he growled. "You were right. Are you happy now?"

"Happy?" She barked a bitter, humorless laugh. "You stole a goddamn World Artifact. How am I supposed to be happy about that?"

"Children!" Zohra's mouth was taut with disapproval. "Keep the fighting for later, yeah?" She glared at Inna, who answered her gaze with proud defiance. She rolled her eyes and shuffled to Arran, wrapping an arm around his waist to support him. "Come on, misha. Let's take a look at that ankle first."

Inna sucked in a deep breath to calm down and trailed after them, back to the living room. Leaning against the open door frame, she watched as Arran hobbled to the sofa and Zohra rummaged around in drawers until she found a jar with a green ointment. She knelt down in front of her pupil to inspect his injured ankle. Arran closed his eyes while she applied a generous amount of the ointment to the bruises, some of the tension in his body ebbing away.

When he opened his eyes again, he smiled at the older woman. His face already looked a bit more lively. "Thank you, Zohra."

She grumbled something incomprehensible in response.

Inna decided that this was her cue and stepped into the room, unwinding Zazi's long body from her neck to place her onto the cushion next to Arran. A soft whimper escaped his throat when the snake put her head on his thigh. Inna stifled a chuckle and took a seat on the coffee table, directly in front of him.

"So, can we talk about your stupidity now?"

He scowled. "Are you done yet?"

"Not in the slightest." She flashed a bright smile, knowing it would annoy him. "Can I see it?"

He twisted away from her curious gaze, his fingers groping at a small object underneath his shirt. "Why?"

She heaved an exasperated sigh. "She has asked me to help you," she said, inclining her head in Zohra's direction. "So that's what I'm going to do. Not that you deserve it. Now let me see the Amulet, please."

Arran still looked hesitant, but he reached under his shirt and pulled out a delicate, silver chain. The triangular pendant was much smaller than the one which had decorated the chest of Onshra's statue, though its dark, oppressive energy left no mistake about its authenticity.

Inna leaned forward to study the Amulet from up close. The purple gemstone's many facets glowed with a soft, inner light, not unlike the soulstone in her pocket. When she touched it with the tip of her finger, it was warmer than it should be from merely sharing Arran's body heat. She fished the amber stone out of her pants and held it next to the Amulet to compare both jewels.

"Strange," she murmured, lost in thought.

"What's strange?"

Her head snapped up, startled. "What? Oh, well, there's a striking resemblance between the Amulet and this soulstone." She showed him the amber stone.

Arran frowned. Contrary to her expectations, he didn't ask her what a soulstone was, but formulated his assumptions about it in his next question, "Do you mean the Amulet contains a soul?" His gaze shifted to Zohra, who had sunk down into her armchair once more. "Is that even possible?"

Zohra shrugged. "I don't know, monkey. I'm not an expert on World Artifacts. She is." She gestured at Inna with her chin.

Arran turned back to Inna. "Can someone please explain to me what on earth a World Artifact is? Not everyone in this room has had the luxury of receiving advanced education on magic."

She gaped at him. "Really? You don't know what a World Artifact is?"

"You really enjoy humiliating me, don't you?"

"Arran," Zohra's sharp voice cut in. "Hear her out."

A muscle twitched in his jaw, but he pursed his lips and refrained from making further comments.

Inna's fingers played with the soulstone while she explained, "A World Artifact is a god-made magical object. Each one is associated with one of the ten great gods. The Amulet of Doom is Onshra's Artifact, given to the Prophet Musajah, although I have no idea what it does. All I know is that Primsharah has known prosperity and peace for as long as the Amulet has been within the city's borders."

Arran's eyes turned cold. "So you don't know what the Amulet's powers are, yet you still deemed it necessary to accuse me of 'dooming us all'?"

She brought her fist to her mouth and bit down on her knuckles to keep from yelling at him. "Like I said, the Amulet belongs to Onshra. It's safe to assume its powers are related to destruction and death, you idiot."

She heard Zohra mumble behind her back, "I'm going to curse the both of you into a deep coma if you don't stop ruffling each other's feathers."

Arran's nostrils flared, though his cheeks flushed a bright vermillion. He looked younger that way, deceivingly innocent. His eyes locked with hers and softened. "Sorry," he muttered.

Taken aback, her mouth curved into a hesitant smile. "Me too. I guess you indulge my temper a bit too much."

A low chuckle rumbled in his throat. "It's been a long day."

She nodded in agreement. "And it's not over yet." Tilting her head, her eyes traveled back to the triangle resting against his chest. "I might know a way to find out more about the Amulet."

"The same source that informed you of the robbery?" Zohra asked. Inna turned to look at her and gave an affirmative nod. "And do you have to go back to the palace for it?"

"What's your point?"

Zohra pointed a crooked finger at Arran. "Take him with you. In the palace, he'll be safe from the people who set him up to this mess. At least for a while."

Arran's mouth dropped open. "What?"

But Inna was already contemplating the possibility, biting her lip. "The people you work for will come for the Amulet eventually," she said. "We have to keep it, and you, away from them until we figure out how to fix this situation."

Arran lowered his gaze. His nails left small, red crescent moons where they dug into his flesh. "I've only just escaped them in the tunnels," he confessed. He spoke so quietly Inna had to strain her ears to understand the words. "They used the magic of my contract with them to force me to hand over the Amulet, but it didn't work. The Amulet protected me from their influence. Like a talisman."

With renewed interest, Inna examined both Arran's aura and the Amulet's energy. "You're right. That might prove to be a complication."

He cocked his head to the side. "Why?"

"The Amulet belongs to you now. The haala prevents me from snatching it off your neck unless you give it to me willingly." Arran's frantic fingers reached under his hair and fidgeted with the necklace, but she laid a gentle hand on his arm to stop him. "No. Leave it there."

"But I don't want it." The dam that had closed off his emotions before broke and the flood of fear and despair behind it hit her with a violent shock.

She hardened herself against it. He didn't need pity or indulgence now; he needed a strong hand to guide him through this. It was too late to back out, for both of them.

"You should've considered that before you signed a contract with complete strangers," she hissed. "What got inside your head?"

His bottom lip quivered, but he turned his head away to hide it from her. "They promised me a million gold coins."

"Oh, Arran." Zohra slid out of her chair to embrace him, stroking his hair with one hand. Even Zazi rested her head on his bicep in a non-verbal expression of comfort.

Inna was speechless. She remembered what Zohra had told her about the financial situation of Arran's family and part of her appreciated his sentiment, even though she was the last person to claim she understood economic hardship.

He pulled away from Zohra's bosom, embarrassment coloring his cheeks, and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "I suppose the deal's over now."

"All the more reason to come back with me to the palace," Inna said. "Maybe we can also find you a healer to take a look at that ... curse."

Arran's eyes turned empty. "No need. You and I both know what will happen. Like you said, I've defied the god of death. I doubt there's a way to cure it."

Inna and Zohra exchanged uncomfortable looks, but neither of them contradicted his words. With every second, every hour, every day that passed, the shadows in Arran's aura would spread until they consumed him whole. After that ... Well.

"How will you smuggle me into the royal palace?" he asked, changing the subject.

"The same way I sneaked out to find you in the first place. I know that palace better than my father does." She made a face. "Let's just hope we won't run into him. He's already stressed out enough as it is. An intruder in the palace ... He'd throw you into the dungeons right away, especially if he noticed what you're wearing around your neck."

"Great." Arran clapped his hands. "More dangerous endeavors that could end with a rope around my neck. Love it. Luckily, I know how to turn myself invisible, right?"

Right. She had forgotten about that peculiar talent of his.

Stifling a yawn, she got up from the coffee table to stretch her legs. "Good. We should get going now, before the sun rises and more guards patrol the streets. How's your ankle?"

He moved his foot in a circle, first to the right, then the other way around. "I'll manage." Waving away Zohra's helpful hands, he pushed himself up from the sofa, staggering a bit on wobbly legs. Inna eyed him suspiciously, ready to jump in if necessary. Her gaze roamed his dirty shirt, the stains on his black drawstring pants.

She scrunched her nose. "Remind me to have Tata run a bath for you in the palace." He gave her a foul look, to which she responded with a toothy smile. "You smell like you've gone for a swim in the sewers."

She laughed when he made a rude gesture, but Zohra was already ushering him to the door.

"She's right, monkey. Invisible or not, the servants at the palace have noses too. We wouldn't want the Shah to think his daughter has bad hygiene, right?"

"A bath doesn't sound so bad," Arran admitted, a sheepish expression on his face. "But my mother and Adira—"

"I'll take care of that, misha," Zohra reassured him, patting his arm. "They'll be fine."

Arran nodded, although he didn't seem convinced.

Inna stuck out her arm for Zazi to coil around it. "Let's go, then. The longer we stay here, the sooner those mind warpers will find us. And I don't think they'll bother to knock on the door this time."