There was no door at the far end of the passage—the flight of steps up to the throne room ended in an archway, screened by a hanging curtain. Carefully, Aurian moved it aside, just enough to peer through a small crack. She was almost directly behind the throne, and could see Harihn nearby, held firmly between two guards and looking sick with fear. She need not have worried about being noticed, for the eyes of everyone in the room were fixed on the clear space at Xiang’s feet. Anvar knelt there, bound, his eyes tightly closed, his face bloodless with terror. Over him stood a black-clad figure with an upraised sword, and—
“Now!” Aurian yelled. Shia sprang past her, reaching the Khisu in a single leap and crushing him to the floor beneath her as her powerful jaws closed around his throat.
“Drop your weapons! Nobody move, or the Khisu dies!” Aurian shouted. She heard the sound of savage fighting outside as Yazour and his men wejtf into action, and beckoned her own troops into the room to pick up the fallen weapons of Xiang’s guards. Though she wanted to go to Anvar, she stepped up instead beside the stunned Prince and bowed, catching sight as she did so of Yazour, who appeared briefly in the main doorway to signal that all was well. “Your Highness,” Aurian said clearly. “Today you declined the use of magic to win your throne. Now I offer it again—through Mortal means. Only say the word, and you are Khisu.”
Harihn stared at her for a moment, trying to take in the sudden change in events. She nodded affirmation and the Prince, with a sudden smile, walked across to his father. Aurian followed him. Xiang’s face was contorted with terror. All the cruelty of his expression seemed to have transferred itself to the face of his son, and the Mage was dismayed by what she had wrought.
“Well, my father,” Harihn said. “How does it feel to be the victim? My mother would have enjoyed seeing you thus!”
“My son, I beg you—” Xiang, in his terror, had lost control of his bladder, and a dark stain began to spread across the floor. “Please—”
It was plain to Aurian how much that word had cost him.
“Begging, Father?” Harihn’s eyes glittered. “Oh, I like this. Beg some more.”
“My son . . . Please—I’ll do anything—”
Harihn turned away in disgust. “No!” It was as though the word had been wrenched from the depths of his soul. Getting his voice under control with an effort, he turned to face his watchers. “I do not want the throne,” he said flatly. “Today I have learned all too well how power corrupts. The power of sorcery.” His gaze flicked coldly towards Aurian. “Royal power.” He glanced scornfully at his father, then across to Sara. “And the power of one man over another.” He looked down at the crumpled scroll of Anvar’s ownership that was crushed in his fist. “Father, you may keep your throne and your life—if you swear that me and mine will be allowed to leave this land in safety. You have no need to worry, I will not be coming back —ever. Do you agree, and will you swear to this?”
The Khisu nodded—too quickly, Aurian thought. She had seen the flicker of contempt in his eyes. “You have my word,” he said.
“Release him,” Harihn ordered.
“Wait.” Aurian, still staggered by Harihn’s refusal of the throne, placed herself within the Khisu’s sight.
“Xiang,” she said, “I have no confidence whatever that you will keep your word.” His gaze slid uneasily away from hers, and she knew she had been right. Thinking quickly, the Mage assumed the most menacing expression she could manage. “In order to guarantee the Khisal’s safety, I place my curse on you, and all the people of your land.” She heard gasps of horror from behind her.
“What are you doing?” Harihn shrieked at her.
“Only this. While the Khisu keeps his vow, all shall be spared. But if he shoulc}J>jeak it, then his entire kingdom will be consumed in fire, and his people also. Crops will burn in the fields. Eyes will shrivel, and flesh will melt. All shall perish in agony. Do you hear me, Xiang?”
“I hear.” His voice dripped hatred.
“Then mark them well—lest what I say should come to pass.”
The Khisu nodded, glaring at her—but she knew that she had him well and truly frightened now. “Oh, and another thing,” she could not resist adding. “I’ve decided that you must become a better ruler in the future. There will be no more cruel games, Xiang. The Arena will be closed at once, and all the slaves will be freed immediately.”
“What?” Xiang roared, forgetting, in his rage, the peril of his position. At a nod from Aurian, Shia tightened her jaws a fraction, snarling. The Khisu choked, and lapsed back into a sullen silence.
“I’ll be watching, Xiang,” Aurian lied. “No matter how for away I am. Remember, the curse is merely postponed. If you break your vow, it will fall upon you! Let him up, Shia,” she added aloud, for the benefit of the watchers. “He has work to do. Get out, Xiang, and take your soldiers with you. See them off the premises, Shia.”
“You mean I don’t get to kill him?” Shia’s thought was petulant.
“I’m afraid not.”
“It’s not fair!” The-cat loosened her jaws reluctantly, her blazing eyes never leaving the Khisu’s face. One of Xiang’s guards, though quaking at the proximity of the Black Demon and the Outland Sorceress, went to help him rise from the wreckage of his chair. A brave man, Aurian thought.
Sara, who had remained silent while the conflict unfolded, rose to follow him, shooting a glare of venomous hatred at Aurian. But Bohan had freed Anvar from his bonds, and he waylaid her, his eyes beseeching. “Sara, wait. You don’t have to go with him. You’re free now. You can come with us . . .” His voice shook with the strain of still hoping to find her innocent in the face of all he had witnessed. Gods, can he not accept it now? Aurian thought despairingly.
Sara turned on Anvar with a look of utter scorn. “You fool,” she said, sneering. “Do you really think I’d go with you, a mere servant—a slave—when I can be a Queen?”
Anvar flinched as though she had struck him. “So,” he said softly, “I was right not to trust you! You were lying when you said you still loved me!”
Sara’s laugh rang out, loud and brittle, cruelly mocking. “And you believed me, you dolt! I knew you would! I planned it that way—because it was expedient, and to pay you back for abandoning me to a butchering midwife and that toad of a merchant. Come with you, indeed! You’re pathetic, Anvar. Go and crawl behind the skirts of your mistress—she appreciates you! As for me, I’ll despise you until the day I die!”
Anvar’s eyes hardened to the chill ice-blue of a winter sky. “Wait!” The word cracked out, harsh and commanding. Sara turned slowly, unwillingly, gaping in astonishment.
“Bad mistake, Sara.” Anvar’s tone was coldly mocking. “In your arrogance, you seem to have forgotten one important detail. Xiang no longer has an heir—and he’ll be looking to you to get him another!”
Sara’s fate blanched to a ghastly greenish-’white. All at once, she began to tremble, seeming to shrink in on herself, her haughty demeanor vanished. Suddenly she bit her lip, held out her hands beseechingly. “Anvar, I—”
“No, Sara, not this time. Not ever again. You got your wish, and it’s up to you to deal with it.” Anvar’s voice was like steel. “Get out, Sara. Go to the King you wanted so much. Start thinking of a way to dupe him, as you duped Vannor and I— only you had better hurry!”
Sara’s face turned ugly with rage. Drawing back like a snake, she spat into his face, then turned, in a swirl of golden skirts, to follow Xiang. As she scurried out, Anvar sank to his knees, his face a mask of grief. Aurian had been both baffled and amazed by his exchange with the girl—but she knew that now was not the time to ask. Instead, she hurried to comfort him, her heart wrenched by the bleak emptiness in his eyes. Anvar tore himself away from her touch. “Please,” he said wretchedly, “leave me alone.” He turned away from her, hiding his face in his hands. Aurian retreated, respecting his mood. When he had repudiated Sara, she had almost burst with pride for him—but she knew how much it had cost him. She sat down beside him on the floor, feeling drained by all that had happened.