Inna's befuddled brain needed longer to recuperate than her tongue. "Kasmir, Nylah, with me!" she yelled at the frozen crowd. Glassy, red-rimmed eyes turned to her. From the other side of the room, her father's sobs raked through her heart with their jagged knife-edges. "The rest of you, fan out across the city. Help as many citizens as you can, and make sure Onshra feasts on the souls of the wicked tonight." She paused. No reaction. "Now!"

The sharp command slashed through the air of paralysis that hung over the room. With jerky movements, her makeshift army of loyal palace inhabitants leaked out of the room. She tried to memorize their faces as they passed her. A dark part of her mind wondered how many of them she would see again after this night.

Kasmir and Nylah flanked her on either side, breathing hard while they awaited further orders. Nylah laid a hesitant hand on Inna's arm, but she shook her off. Power sang within her blood, narrowed down her gaze until all was a blur save for the clean-cut outline of her target.

"And you," Inna growled, pointing a trembling finger at Rabyatt. "I'll deal with you."

Somewhere, an echo from a place far away, Arran rasped her name. She blocked him out. This time, nobody would stop her from exacting her revenge. Not even a turquoise-eyed boy whose life hung by the bare thread of Inna's own magic.

She charged forward.

The marble floor tiles cracked as they sprang from their joints, cutting a straight path toward Rabyatt. He jumped out of the way, though the hem of his coat snagged on the broken stone. It was surprisingly satisfying to see his level-headed guise fall apart. A sneer distorted his handsome features when he raised his hand and made a gesture as if tugging at a rope.

She felt as though someone had thrust a fist into her soul to claw it to pieces. Her skin burned and stretched, a living thing that was about to tear itself loose from the rest of her. Every nerve in her body screamed. Her throat produced a sound that seemed to originate from the most primal parts of her being and she dropped to her knees, fighting the pain.

The bond with Arran wavered, but she ground her teeth and latched onto it, with the risk of splitting her skull. One thought rang through her head again and again, He must not die. He must not die. She heard him call out to her again, though the sound was drowned out by the continuous hum of blood pumping through her ears.

Rabyatt's velvety voice resonated all around her. "You would be stronger if not for your senseless efforts to prolong a dead man's life by mere minutes," he sighed. "Ah well, perhaps it doesn't matter at all. Even the gods lost this fight once. In the end, in the right hands, our souls are all equally vulnerable." The ghost of a smile flashed across his mouth. "Don't worry, Serafina; I won't break you entirely. Just enough to ensure your cooperation."

Through the shadows that gathered at the edge of her vision, she caught a glimpse of Nylah and Kasmir, fighting off Rabyatt's soldiers. There were more than there had been minutes ago; where had they come from?

Her gaze flicked to Adira, who stood next to her brother amid the pillows, her face a blank canvas. The hair on the back of Inna's neck rose. How strong a mind warper was Adira really? Had she set up a mental connection with every cultist in Primsharah, which she used to communicate Rabyatt's orders?

Inna's back arched when Rabyatt gave another yank at her aura. "Traitor," she hissed between gritted teeth. "To destroy your own home."

Adira's dark cloak nipped at her ankles while she strode into the moonlight. "Only to rebuild something better in its place, Your Highness," she answered. Inna hated the belittling tone of the girl's voice, as if she was laying out an obvious truth.

"What could you possibly build from the ashes of your loved ones?"

Adira paled. A slithering sliver of magic slammed against the boundaries of Inna's mind, but that was what she had been waiting for.

Of all the elements, water had always enjoyed Inna's preference. In great quantities, it almost had a mind of its own, and depending on its mood, it gave life or it took it away. Unforgiving and merciful at once. You could learn to swim to fight the waves, but even the best of swimmers could drown in the sea.

Inna thought of her pain as a wild river, driven onward by the foreign power of a storm, by Rabyatt's deathly magic. She would throw Adira into the current and see if she could swim back to shore.

Just like it had when she first opened up her mind to the Sphere of Truths, the loss of her mental defenses left her feeling naked, exposed to vulnerability in a way that almost rendered her dysfunctional, like a skinned animal. Her secrets, her entire person lay bare for the taking. Every fiber of her being resisted, each muscle strained and each thought cowering before it even formed. But she was stronger than this. All her life, she had been raised to.

Adira gulped for breath as Inna's pain flooded her own brain. She stumbled, doubled over, clawed at her head. Inna gave herself to the agony until there wasn't a bone in her body that didn't cry out with it, no thought that didn't revolve around it. White spots floated before her eyes like fallen stars.

Distantly, she wondered if this was how it felt to die.

And then it stopped.

Only out of sheer stubbornness did Inna manage to stay upright. Nylah hurried to her side and clasped one of her trembling fists in hers.

"Are you all right?"

"Better than her, that's for sure." Disdain oozed from the glance that Inna gave Adira. The girl lay on her back on the ground, with Rabyatt leaning over her. She clutched her chest, as though she feared her heart would thrash its way out of it at any moment.

Inna enlisted Nylah in helping her to her feet. Her magic sputtered within her veins, like a flame that had almost been doused by a strong wind. With a quick glimpse in Arran's direction, she smothered the panic that swept over her. He was still breathing, although his eyes were wide with concern while he looked at her. At least she had maintained that bit of control.

She forced a smile, but he didn't answer it.

Rabyatt straightened up, pulling a reeling Adira up with him. Supporting her with an arm wrapped tightly around her slim waist, he wouldn't meet Inna's gaze. "What did you do to her?"

"You said it so yourself, Rabyatt," Inna replied with a smug expression. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Maybe the inheritance of godly blood paid off after all."

His chin snapped up. His red eyes burned with a ferocious fire. "Look around you, princess. Your city is in ruins, your father is an incompetent ruler, now more than ever, and your lover is dying. The longer you resist to see reason, the more will be taken from you until you'll be left with nothing but dust and ashes."

Heat pooled in her cheeks. She opened her mouth to make a sharp retort, but Kasmir beat her to it.

"You're wrong." He stood in front of the throne, hiding their father from view. His clothes were caked with blood and a shallow cut disfigured his right cheek, but otherwise he looked all right. In his hands, he held fragments of broken glass, a few swirls of purple and blue mist still clinging to them. Inna's heart gave a funny skip. "From what I can see, you're the one left on your own now, prince."

Rabyatt stared at the shards, his face ashen. Then he laughed. "We are many, Prince Kasmir, far more than you could wrap your mind around. I am never alone, and I never will be." He dug his fingers deeper into Adira's side as if to emphasize his point.

"Well," Nylah said, cracking her knuckles, "at least there'll be one less after tonight."

Rabyatt let go of Adira to defend himself, but it was far less easy to trap three of them with his magic instead of one. Adira had been rendered useless; every time she squinted in concentration, she winced. Her magic was hardly more than a harmless breeze brushing past Inna's mental shield.

Inna's power rushed back to her in all its savage glory. Just in time too, because even more cultists barreled through the open doors. The air in the room turned static with restrained magic. A group of students of the School of Sorcery and Magical Arts were on their heels.

From the fight that erupted afterward, Inna only remembered the chaos, the world fading to a blur of constant movement. She launched a bolt of lightning at the ceiling in front of the doors. Dust crept into the lungs of those who stood too close as it caved in and blocked the entrance in case even more cultists answered Rabyatt and Adira's call. Nevertheless, they were still hopelessly outnumbered.

With growing despair, Inna watched her band of sorcerers, including her brother and sister, struggle more and more as time passed, whereas the cultists exhibited astonishing reserves of stamina. They were better-trained, more experienced in battle and fought like they had nothing to lose and everything to win. Soon, Inna and the rest stood surrounded at the center of the throne room, their backs pressed against each other. Inna didn't dare use the full extent of her powers for fear of endangering her allies as well; her magic was simply too destructive.

Rabyatt's grin had returned to his face. Flexing his fingers, he stepped over the convulsing bodies of several students. Still, his gaze was not unkind when it turned to her. "I admire your bravery, Serafina," he said softly. "I do. But a wise person also knows when they are defeated."

Again, an alien force sank its claws into her aura. She braced herself. Lightning crackled around her fingertips, but she couldn't find a gap in the mass of black cloaks around her to hit him. Nylah gripped her forearm so hard the skin was sure to bruise later.

"You ... will not ... harm ... my daughter."

Rabyatt stiffened. The deathly claws withdrew from her soul and Inna let out a shaky breath. Tears sprang to her eyes, but not of emotion or relief; Nylah's grip had intensified to the point where her bones ground against each other.

On the dais, the Shah wobbled on his short legs, looking even smaller than usual because of how loosely his thawb hung around his body. He cringed as though in pain, but his eyes were brighter than they had been in weeks. "Get out ... of my palace," he panted.

"I think it is best if you sit back down, Your Majesty," Rabyatt said, his tone warm and a tad patronizing. "You are obviously not well."

But Rabyatt's influence over the Shah had broken alongside with the glass sphere. The Shah's cheeks reddened. "Do not ... talk to me ... like I ... am a child." Some of its former brilliance returned to his golden aura. Contrary to many of his wives, Inna's father possessed very few magical abilities and therefore didn't form a real threat to the cultists, yet no one made a move to attack him.

While Rabyatt exchanged confused glances with his soldiers, Kasmir gave a loud gasp. Inna swiveled around, her arm tense with a blow at the ready, but he looked unharmed. Still, the deep brown of his irises had almost completely given way to his dilated pupils. She followed his gaze to where Arran sat on the ground. Icy fingers clenched her throat.

"What is it?"

"He ... I ... I don't know if I should stop him or not," Kasmir whispered, his expression glum.

"What? Have you seen something?"

However, her voice died away at the look in Arran's turquoise gaze. He twirled the Amulet in his long, supple fingers. Inna's heart hammered a new, faster rhythm, pumping the blood in her ears until she was deaf to her surroundings. Why hasn't he made his wish yet? Why hasn't he freed Onshra?

A slow, melancholic smile spread across his lips. The intensity of his gaze, in spite of the dark circles around his eyes, was a jab in the stomach. It was almost like he implored her to understand something, but she had no idea what ...

Until she did.

"No!"

Her cry bounced off the walls, echoed tenfold in the large emptiness of the throne room, yet it was as powerless as she was herself, hemmed in by dozens of bodies. Behind them, she saw Arran's mouth move as he murmured something to the Amulet. She pushed past the cultists, who were too puzzled to try to stop her.

Kasmir and Nylah yelled her name. The Shah held out his frail arms as if to catch her. She ignored them all, driven onward by a chilling certainty.

But there was not a soul in the world that could ever outrun Death.