“I prefer to do this the old-fashioned way,” Malka says conversationally. “This is from the twelfth century. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

It is, in a horrific way. The metal blade is scratched with time, but its edges are still sharp. Emeralds embellish the hilt.

Nuala is crying. “Please,” she says. “Please.”

It’s a useless plea. Malka drifts closer, the light overhead catching on the blade. She’s stalking her prey. Nuala pushes back into the wall as hard as she can and starts screaming for help. Nobody can hear her but me, and I clasp my hands over my ears. My resolve breaks and I hear the rough sobs from my throat. I want to shield Nuala with my body, but I know it won’t protect her. And I’m too much of a coward. I’m not Tila. Tila would rush Malka and disarm her, consequences be damned.

“Don’t you dare close your eyes, Tila,” Malka says, her words almost singsong. “You need to understand just how imperative it is to keep your goddam little mouth shut.”

I open my eyes wide, afraid to blink. Don’t look away.

Nuala keeps screaming, a high banshee wail. Malka presses the point of the blade through the hollow of her throat. Nuala’s screams cut short.

Blood stains the white uniform, falling in a crimson tide down her front. It was quick, at least. No torture. No scalpels like in Mia’s dream.

Malka draws the sword out, wiping the blood off with the end of Nuala’s tunic. The girl’s eyes stare straight ahead, still shining with tears. Her beautiful hair is matted with blood. Malka looks down, and all the anger has fled from her face. She looks serene, as if she’s come out of the dreamscape, wiped clean of her bloodlust, at least for a time.

“Now you see what happens if you cross us.”

“Did I not already see that at Xanadu?” I whisper. I wish this could be a Verve hallucination like the original Test, but it’s not.

“Nothing like a repeat lesson to drive it home.” She comes closer to me, until I can smell her perfume under the iron tang of blood. It smells of incense, dark and smoky. She pauses scant inches from me. I can see each perfect pore in her face, the glitter of her eyeshadow.

She’s close enough to kiss me. I feel the tip of my tongue touch the false-crowned molar. It’s meant for Ensi, but would it harm her, too?

“And I don’t know if I trust you,” she murmurs. “See, I liked Nuala. This, this was the kindest way. If you betray us, you won’t be so lucky.