The boy met my eyes as he went past, raising a bloody hand as if to say goodbye.

Get it together! Together, Kammani!

Near the kitchens where I’d seen Dagan and his brothers race, a low groan and a voice that sounded achingly familiar echoed from behind one of the massive ovens. Nobody else was about. The kitchens were abandoned as if they’d been left during preparations for the morning meal. Ducks lay partially plucked on tables, dull brown feathers spread all over the ground. Black smoke trailed from the ovens, rounds of bread burned to a crisp inside. Great casks of sikaru were spilled, flies buzzing above. I prayed to Selu that Dagan was safe. But that voice behind the ovens made my hair stand on end.

“Who’s there?” a harsh voice, cracked with grief, echoed from behind one of the sandstone structures.

“You first!” I shouted, clutching the bodice of my trader robe. It could be anyone. A guardsman waiting to kill me!

“Arammu?” the man asked hoarsely.

Dagan. I ran with wild abandon toward his voice. He was sitting in the grass near the Palace entrance, Shep’s bloody body in his arms. Marduk was nowhere to be found.

“Selu save us,” I cried, running to them and throwing myself down. My hands fumbled in my healing satchel under my cloak for tinctures. Threads. Anything. “What happened?”

“A guardsman surprised us at the corner. He was lying in wait, prepared when we walked in. Shep was first inside, and the guardsman caught him in the neck with his sword.”

His voice broke and great sobs racked his body, his shoulders shaking. “I couldn’t stop him!”

“Let me see him, Dagan. Let me see him. I can do something to help. Where is he hurt?”

Dagan pulled Shep away from my fumbling hands. “No! He’s gone, Kammani. Don’t you see that? You’re the A-zu!” His words lashed out like a horse whip against hide.

“Look at him!” he moaned.

He held his body up for me to see, and sobs immediately flooded over me, too. Because his life’s artery in his neck had been severed. His face pale. Slack. Amber eyes, so much like Dagan’s, wide open to the Netherworld. I gently prodded along his neck for his pulse, pressing and pressing to see if there was any chance of life inside, but Dagan was right. He was gone, gone, gone. Gone like my abum and ummum. Gone like my baby sister. Gone like Irra and Warad. Probably like half the Manzazu warriors right now.

“And Marduk?”

He wiped a hand down his face. “He saw Shep die, Kammani. He saw him die. And he ran to the farm to be with Qishti, who they said was hiding in my chamber under some of my ummum’s quilts. I didn’t stop him. I wanted him safe. The guardsman ran off, but for how long?”

“Let’s go. Higal has called for retreat, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to give up. We need to leave so we can intercept whatever her plans are next and figure out what to do. This cannot happen again. We must stop this!”