It was almost a relief to cross the border into the Copper District. At first, the transition occurred gradually, almost unnoticeably, until all of a sudden every building looked like a drunk on wobbly legs, the limestone walls of the richer districts replaced by wood. The smell, though, was unmistakable: dirt, rotten food and the sour odor of unwashed bodies. Sometimes a whiff of cheap sex in a dark alleyway. Still, Inna's shoulders relaxed while she blended into the shuffling crowd. With her hood drawn firmly over her eyes, she could pretend to belong and evade the guards who slouched in pairs on the corners of the streets. In this part of the city, they were used to turning a blind eye to what was happening in front of their noses.

It had been far less easy to sneak into the High Priest's office at Onshra's temple. Several of the Cult's sorcerers had roamed the area, flocking around the temple's entrance and checking every face that ascended the steps. Inna had to wait until one of the priests left to run an errand. Mumbling apologies under her breath, she dragged him into an alley and knocked him out to steal his robes. She hunched her back slightly to hide her noble-bred gait and walked straight past the vigilant sorcerers.

She didn't trust the frail High Priest, whose eyes darted skittishly toward the cloaked intruders, not to betray her to the Cult under the right amount of pressure, so she flicked a knife out of her borrowed boot and pressed it to his back to guide him to his office. Only when she had locked the door behind them did she remove her hood.

The priest's eyes bulged. "Your Hi—"

"Keep quiet, priest," she hissed, clamping a hand over his mouth. "Believe me, they're only waiting for an excuse to murder the keepers of religion within this city." An exaggeration, perhaps, but who could know for certain in these dark times? His eyes widened, so she took that as a sign of his cooperation. "Those sorcerers out there? They're the ones who took the Amulet. Now, if you listen to me, I can help you get rid of them and restore this temple to its former glory."

The priest had agreed to her plan and promised to warn the other High Priests. Kasmir had been right; the clergy cared for their religion above all else. Anything that threatened to undermine it posed a threat that had to be eliminated promptly. The priests of Onshra wanted their Amulet back and the heathens gone, and Inna had ensured their collaboration with half-truths and vague promises. She left the temple through the tunnels—thanks to Arran's tale of his robbery, she knew where the entrance was—but after she had shed the priest's robes, she clambered back up to street level at the first ladder. Without a compass, she'd get lost down there.

Zohra's house came into view, crammed between two equally slanted hovels, though recognizable thanks to the sign that marked a fortune teller's shop. She paused with one foot on the threshold. The front door was ajar. She stole a few steps inside, alarmed at the quiet interior, half expecting Zohra to chide her for dawdling while guards patrolled the streets. Something cracked beneath her foot: half of a wooden cane, splintered at the broken end.

Her senses sharpened; her lungs heaved with quickened breaths. She prowled further into the room, her nerves sizzling with keen magic to fend off potential danger. A soft sobbing froze her steps, and she turned on her heel to look for its source. Her knees buckled when she saw Arran's mother kneeling on the floor, bent over a flaccid form. The sun caught in strands of silver hair.

"By the gods!" Inna rushed to Merriam's side. She quickly checked the woman over for injuries, but she seemed unharmed. With trembling fingers, she searched Zohra's wrist for a pulse, even though her coarse skin had already gone cold. Blackened blood stained her lips and pointed out the loss of her warm complexion. Her eyes, black like bitter coffee, were empty of the life that had turned them affectionate and mischievous.

Pain ripped through her with white-hot talons, clawed open her heart and laid it bare for preying anxiety to snatch it away. It mingled with images of her mother on her deathbed, her skin dry and thin like parchment, her eyes closed as if asleep. She pushed the memories away. "What in the gods' name happened here?"

"They took Arran," Merriam hiccuped. "I woke up and Zohra was dead and my boy was gone. What will they do to him?" Her fingers were strong as they clutched Inna's sleeve.

Merriam's babbling barely made sense. Inna's let out a sharp whistle. Glass shards and pieces of broken furniture scraped across the ground while Zazi slithered from her hiding place beneath the sofa. She curled up into Inna's extended arms.

"Zazi," Inna breathed, feeling a rush of relief. "Tell me what happened."

Zazi's unblinking yellow eyes met hers with a serenity that didn't match their surroundings. The Cult broke into the house, looking for you and Arran. They've taken him back to the palace hoping that you'll follow to rescue him. Zohra resisted his capture and she paid the price for it.

Inna shut her eyes. When she'd left that morning, Arran had been terribly ill. What effects would the stress of this attack, of Zohra's death, have on his health? She had to get to him. Who knew what they would do to him to retrieve the Amulet. Worse, if he died in the meantime, they'd be able to snatch it off his neck without suffering the consequences. He had to free Onshra first. And she had to be there to make sure the god cured him. Otherwise, she'd never forgive herself.

There's more, Zazi continued hesitantly.

Inna clenched her fists. "What is it?"

One of the cultists called Arran her big brother.

Her breath caught. "Merda."

Arran's traitorous little sister. Part of her didn't want to believe it for his sake. On the other hand, though, the revelation chained some of the missing puzzle pieces together. If Adira was a mind warper involved with the Cult, she might have manipulated Arran into stealing the Amulet without him knowing it. She'd only had to pull the right strings and his greed had taken over his common sense.

Inna's pulse sped up at the implications of this betrayal. Adira had been present when Inna had planned the mob to distract the Cult with Majidah. She knew when, where and how many. Inna pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. It didn't change the plan. They'd only have to advance its execution.

Her legs had gone numb. She stood up, hoisting Merriam to her feet, and pinned her in place. Merriam's bloodshot eyes blinked at her.

"Adira still hasn't returned, either," Arran's mother said, using her sleeve to wipe snot from her nostrils. "They didn't take her too, did they?"

Inna scraped together every ounce of self-control to harden her expression. By the way her gaze failed to focus, Inna figured that Merriam wasn't ready to hear about her daughter's secrets. A mental breakdown could cost both of them everything they loved.

"I'm going to save your son," she vowed. She clutched the woman's arms harder. "I need you to go down to the black market and warn Majidah that the mob takes place tonight. We can't afford to wait any longer. Arran's and my father's lives depend on it."

A fierce look roiled the ocean's waves in Merriam's eyes. "No, I'm coming with you. I've let my children down for too long."

Inna bit the inside of her cheek. "I know you want to protect them, but without any magic in your veins, it will be too dangerous for you to confront the Cult on your own. You can't protect your children in death."

All color drained from Merriam's face. "But I—"

"They'll toy with you like a cat does with a mouse, Merriam, laughing while they're at it. You'll only slow me down. I have a city, a father and a dear friend to protect. I can't watch over you too."

She pressed her bloodless lips into a thin line. Several moments passed in which the two women glared at each other, but then Merriam's shoulders slumped, although she didn't cast down her eyes. She raised a threatening finger, balancing it against the tip of Inna's nose. "Bring him back. Alive." Then, wrung out of her with a shudder, "Please."

Despite being more than a head taller, this was the second time Inna felt small as a toddler in this woman's presence. Without breaking her gaze, she dipped her head. "For all I'm worth, I will. Because I care about him too."

***

Kasmir and Nylah jumped up as soon as Inna entered Tata's living room. She nodded a greeting at her maid's parents, who sat with their arms folded around each other on the floor.

"The School's ready," Kasmir reported. "They'll assemble at our signal and move to—"

"Perfect, because we'll need them tonight," Inna cut him off. He stared at her open-mouthed, too bewildered to utter a sound. "I'm afraid the odds have turned against us."

"What do you mean?" Nylah asked, a wrinkle between her brows.

Inna folded her heads to keep them from trembling. "We've been deceived. Rabyatt knows of my plans to organize a mob, so the cultists will be prepared. Nevertheless," she added as Kasmir's lips parted with incoherent sputtering," his intelligence hasn't reached as far as the merchants', temples' and students' involvement. There's still time to make this work."

Nylah scratched the back of her head. "All right. How?"

One corner of Inna's mouth crimped upward in a lopsided smirk. "The riots in the streets will still cause a distraction, but we must assume that Rabyatt will withdraw most of his men. Security in the palace will be maximized. Therefore, we'll need my back-up plan."

"Your back-up plan?"

"We'll attack the Cult from both sides: inside and outside the palace." She handed two sealed envelopes to Tata. Her maid took it without hesitation, extending a finger to scratch Zazi's chin as she did. "Take this to Izban," Inna told her.

"The cook?"

She nodded. "He'll know what to do with it. Try to avoid the regular corridors as much as you can, all right?"

Squeezing her father's hand and pressing a kiss on her mother's cheek—a stout woman who was the striking, older mirror image of her daughter—Tata slipped out of the room. The silence she left in her wake was filled with furrowed brows and nervous foot-tapping. Tension charged the air, sizzling like a brewing storm.

Kasmir raked his fingers through his wavy black hair. It had grown in the month she'd been gone; soon, he'd be able to tie it back. "I have a feeling we don't know half of your schemes, Inna."

She laughed. "You'll see soon enough."

A pang of guilt tore through her at their disappointed looks, but she ignored it. She trusted her brother and sister; though as children, the three of them had fought as fiercely as any siblings, they had stood up for each other in front of their parents and invented excuses and alibis to avoid punishment for the other. However, as Arran's misplaced trust in his sister had demonstrated, it was safer for now if only one person knew the true extension of the plan she had devised. The Cult couldn't compel them to spill details they had no knowledge of.

She grabbed both Kasmir's and Nylah's hands, their warm grip comforting. Her gaze was open and sincere as she looked each of them in the eye. "If all goes well, we'll start off tomorrow with a victory."

"I hope you're right, Inna," Kasmir sighed. "All right, what do we do?"

She gave Tata's parents a pointed look, softened by a reassuring smile. They took the hint and left the room, Tata's father with his arm thrown around his wife's shoulders. Inna heard their footfalls thud on the stairs, fading out of earshot.

She straightened up, easily falling back into her role as a leader. "By twilight, the merchants on our side must have their ships in the harbor ready to sail out. We need at least two or three sorcerers on each ship, preferably the ones with destructive powers like mine, their exact number depending on their individual strength. Tell them to embark when the mob breaks out. The chaos will give them sufficient cover to sneak past the cultists and the city guards."

"What are the ships for?" Nylah asked.

Inna flashed a conspiratorial grin. "To destroy Rabyatt's fleet. The majority of his soldiers arrived by ship, right? If we burn their ships, we burn their escape route. They'll be trapped inside the city."

"Not if the gates are still open," Kasmir countered.

"That's where we'll send the priests," she said. "Most guards will hesitate before harming a priest, especially one who serves Onshra or Reesah. Moreover, most priests possess magical powers, so in case of a skirmish, they'll be perfectly capable of holding their own. We'll send a priest of Narashtuh along with every party to tend to the wounded."

Nylah shook her head, her expression one of awe. "You really have it all planned out in that brilliant head of yours, haven't you?"

"What can I say? I like to work fast."

"What about the remaining sorcerers?" Kasmir asked. "And us?" He gestured between the three of them.

Inna exhaled slowly. "We'll station most of the sorcerers at the palace gate to try and fight their way inside. The three of us, however, will take a small party through an underground tunnel that leads to a relatively deserted section of the palace. If we split up and stick to the servant's corridors, we should be able to move around undetected. I've done it many times."

"Of course you have."

Nylah angled her head. "Is that what you meant by an attack from the inside?"

"Partially. If I tell you now, it will ruin the surprise."

"You absolute menace."

They bent their heads together for another hour to work out the details of their plan. Inna hated that they had to rush everything and she worried that they had overlooked an important detail that could prove fatal to their mission, but there was simply no time left. They would have to rely on the Cult's surprise and the city watch's reluctance to turn against their own people in favor of foreigners.

Sweat beaded their foreheads by the time they had finished. A grave look passed between them. The sun had begun her descent; the rim of the horizon was still tinged with blue, yet Inna felt the minutes slip through her fingers like sand in an hourglass, constant and unstoppable. It was time to brief the troops.

"For Primsharah," she said. "For baba."

"For Primsharah."

"For our city."

When she stepped outside the music shop, Inna felt a cool hand slither down her back. She shivered. The feeling was unfamiliar, and she didn't like the way it made her palms sweat and her heart thrash in her throat. The realization that it was nerves tormenting her mind drew her up short. "Oh Kaahra Din, great god of war," she prayed under her breath, "lend me strength for this battle."