The zarich won its war against the flames. Smoke rose from the mountains, and the Drychta who were still unchanged staggered out coughing, averting their faces, lifting their hands to plead surrender. Only the blighted continued their losing fight, assaulting the combined armies until every last one of them were killed.

Bereft of enemies, all the daeva—save for the azi—turned their backs on us and moved rapidly toward the sea. They waded in with little preamble. The waves washed over their heads, and they were gone before we could react.

Were they running away, I wondered, or toward something else?

It was only when one of the Gorvekai—Solveiga—nudged me gently with her foot that I realized that the battle was over. “The Faceless has gone too far this time,” she said soberly. “To change a nation of people into abominations—now do you understand why the strongest is not always the worthiest?”

There were heavy casualties on both sides of the conflict. Many of the soldiers had been ripped apart by the beasts, but among the blighted, none survived. The still-human Drychta, now docile, sat on the ground, watched over by a group of asha. General Lode questioned one, and the prisoner was all too eager to respond.

“Aadil is missing” came his terse report. “They do not know if he still remains in the mountains.”

“He does not.” The Dark asha stood before us, her face smudged from dirt and ash. Her familiars stood beside her. The generals and commanders of the army lifted their swords as one, watching the bone witch with distrust. Only Khalad and Lord Agnarr were nonplussed.

The horrific wound on Lord Fox’s chest that would have been mortal on anyone else had vanished. “I remembered this,” the familiar said. “On Mithra’s Wall—you reached out to me—”

“So it was you back then,” she said, and her voice broke my heart. “I wondered if I had dreamed it out of longing. Or if I’d gone insane, as you feared.”

“Tea—”

She stepped away. “Don’t,” she begged. “Later. Please.”

Her brother’s mouth curved down at the corners, scowling, worried.

She smiled wanly at King Kance. “Drycht,” she says, “is kingless.”

“Did you kill him, Tea?”

“We have very different interpretations of what death means, Your Majesty.”

“Tea, you look unwell. Please, let me—”

“Nothing is happening that shouldn’t be, Your Majesty.” She moved toward her azi. “I must go.”

“No!” Lord Fox grabbed her arm. “You will not leave until I’ve had every answer out of you!”

“Fox is right.” The Odalian noble was tired and adamant. “We have many questions—”

The Dark asha laughed. We were all taken aback by the unnaturally loud, high-pitched strangeness of it. “Have you finally decided to take my head, Your Majesty?”

“I am more interested in your answers.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Do not make it harder for us, Tea.”