“Orc?” Farideh said. She pulled free of his grasp once more. “What orc?”
The rage on Lorcan’s face slipped behind his flippant mask. “No one,” he said. “It’s a matter of politics. You don’t need to worry about it. What you do need to worry about is being in Neverwinter when the wrong people find out. So let’s leave.”
She twisted away as he reached for her.
“Don’t lie to me-”
“Come now, darling,” he said, the edge creeping back into his voice. “I’ve never lied to you.”
No, she thought, you only talk me into circles. Not this time.
“Did you send that orc?” she said. “The one who shot Havilar?”
“Of course not!” he cried. “Lords, what do you think I am? I have no interest in killing your sister. Let’s be on our way.”
She dodged him again. “To kill someone else? Did you send him to kill Mehen? Brin?” She hesitated. “Me?”
Once more Lorcan’s insouciance shattered. “You always think the worst of me,” he said. “What exactly do I have to do to convince you I’m not going to kill you? Obviously saving you from the middle of a Hellish civil war isn’t enough?” Farideh folded her arms.
“Answer the question, please.”
“I didn’t send an orc to kill you.”
“And the others?” Farideh asked, growing angry.
“I told you before, darling. What would I be doing with orcs?”
“Yes, you did say that. Did you send an orc to kill someone?”
But she didn’t need him to answer. What he wouldn’t say was answer enough: he’d sent the orc to kill Brin or Mehen or maybe even Tam, and even if he hadn’t meant for Havilar to be hurt, she had been.
Because Farideh hadn’t cast off Lorcan’s pact. There it was: Mehen was right. It had been her fault. Her flaw.
“It sounds like you’ve already decided my guilt,” he said. “I did come to your aid in the midst of that unpleasantness, or did you forget that?”
“You came,” Farideh said, growing angrier. “But it wasn’t because Havilar was in trouble. Or because I was in trouble, was it? You weren’t watching. Because you already knew the orc would come, and someone was supposed to be dead.” She met his smoldering eyes. “It was meant to be Brin, wasn’t it? The way you said he should have stopped the arrows … I thought you meant by stopping the orc.”
Lorcan’s eyes narrowed and he tried to grab her again. Farideh struck his arm aside and stepped back.
“Don’t touch me!”
“I was trying to protect you-”
“From what? From having another person to talk to? From having someone remind me you can’t be trusted?”
“From having him fill your ears with lies!” he said. “From having him convince you to strip away your pact because he’s afraid of it.”
“You’re just afraid you’ll lose your set,” she said. “I’m not going with you-not without Havi and the others.”
Her scar was screaming now, and without meaning to she clutched her arm with her opposite hand, as if she could stem the pain. Lorcan’s eyes were burning, the air between them boiling. He twisted his ring.
The portal swirled.
Farideh threw her hands up as he darted forward. Anger and instinct drove from her lips the triggering word for the blast. The crackling purple magic swelled in the few feet that separated them. The spell had struck Lorcan full in the chest before she realized she’d cast it.
He stumbled backward and pressed a hand to his scorched armor, shocked. Farideh stared a moment, appalled, elated. Then her scar caught fire again. Lorcan spread his wings, and in his own hands, a spell of flames danced.
Run, she thought.
She bolted. Deeper into the city, scrambling over lava flows and ruins, Farideh didn’t know where she was heading-only hoping, hoping that she would lose Lorcan in the twisting streets. But as she sprinted across a square she heard a heavy, gusting sound-he was flying, not running. The streets made almost no difference at all.
She turned a corner, skidded in the rubble that made the road, and crashed down on her hip, rucking her robes up to her waist as she slid. The leather leggings kept the gravel from embedding in her leg, but not her unprotected tail. And they did nothing for the bruises that screamed as she rolled back to her feet to start again, Lorcan’s wingbeats growing closer still.
Farideh’s throat ached, her lungs burned, and her heart pounded as if it were trying to pump a well dry, but still she ran.
She turned a corner, and there, as if an angel from above had deposited it especially for her, was a small temple, shining silvery in the moonlight. As brightly as it shone, the temple had to be new. Maybe with a priest. The doors were wide open and she made for them, pressing herself on with everything she had in her.
“Farideh, no!” She heard him land, but she didn’t dare look back. If there was one place he couldn’t chase her down, it would be the hallowed ground of a sanctified temple.
She sprinted up the steps, but as she made to cross the threshold, Lorcan caught hold of the back of her robes. She screamed and wrenched against his grip, the fabric tearing-as she fell into the temple.
Her fall pulled Lorcan’s hand into the doorway, but as his knuckles reached the point where the temple began, they may as well have struck a solid wall. He let go of the fabric, furious and panting. He threw himself shoulder-first against the empty doorway, and yet again, an invisible barrier threw him off.
Farideh scuttled backward into the temple, trying to catch her breath.
“Darling,” Lorcan said, his voice sharp as a knife, “come out of there.”
She shook her head. “Leave.”
“Come out of there, right now!”
She held her hands up, ready to speak the words of the spell. “Get away from me, you bastard, or I’ll do it again!” She would, she thought, tears streaming down her cheeks. She’d hit him with everything she knew. Burn him to ashes if he tried to drag her away again.
Lorcan snarled and punched the invisible barrier. He sprang into the air and a moment later she heard him pounding and cursing at the temple’s other windows. They all held.
Limping, Farideh entered the sanctuary of the temple. Incense scented the air, and the silvery light of the risen moon lit the temple instead of torches. Rows of benches faced a platform where the icon stood. From the altar, a statue of a goddess framed by silver eyes and silver stars regarded Farideh benevolently: Selune.
Farideh sat on one of the benches and covered her face with her hands. She didn’t belong here. She was as good as stealing Selune’s protection while she snatched at the powers of the Hells. And while Lorcan howled and cursed at her for being so fickle.
Gods, she was such a little fool, trapped in an empty temple and crying when she knew exactly what she needed to do. She wondered if Yvon could help her find a safer devil than Sairche could. The thought undid her, and she sobbed into her hands.
The pain of her scar lessened as she sat, and the warm air and the scent of the incense made her eyelids heavy as her pulse slowed and her breath deepened. The temple was empty-surely no one would mind if she just lay down a moment.
Lorcan was scared, she reminded herself. Scared of Rohini? Scared of … what had he said? The cult of Asmodeus? Ashmadai? She could still hear him pounding on the barriers of the skylights, and she curled her arms around her head to block the noise.
Scared or not, he was still dangerous. Mehen was still right.
She had to get out of the temple. She had to get back to Havilar and Mehen and Brin before anything bad happened, before Sairche caught Havilar, before Rohini-whoever she was-struck, before Lorcan did something worse. She shut her aching eyes, just for a moment.
Please, she thought to the statue on the altar, please just make him go away. Please just keep them safe until I can get rid of him. Please …