He took a deep breath. “If you can bring water to the desert, then summoning it to a once-fertile land . . . You could bring magic to the empire through what is inside you. We will not need the mountains or the lake.” Kneeling, he held both her hands in his. “Come to my empire, Liyana. Come save us.”
I will not feed you magic to save our enemy, Bayla said.
Why must they be our enemy? Liyana asked. They’re people too!
We are the turtle’s people, Bayla said. We are of the desert.
Liyana felt Bayla swirl faster and faster like a sandstorm. She heard the rush of wind inside of her. What are you afraid of?
I am a goddess! I fear nothing! But Liyana saw a glimpse of a thought, one that Bayla did not intend for her to see. An image of a raven.
This isn’t about the desert or our people, Liyana realized. This is about Korbyn!
Bayla swirled inside her. I love him! And I felt you care for him, as he cares for you. You cannot be contemplating this . . . this abomination! You cannot make me leave him! You promised me this body!
I cannot allow more people to die, not when I can prevent it, Liyana said. She had planned to sacrifice herself to save her people. This fate . . . He was intelligent, passionate, and handsome.
One day this body will be mine, Bayla said. One day you will lose control, and you will lose yourself as Raan did. And I will destroy this man and his empire, and I will return to my true love. All the deities will join me, and all the clans will rise up with me.
Liyana felt as if her breath had been stolen away. She felt the full force of her goddess’s anger rising inside her. It threatened to engulf her, but she clung to her body as if to a tree in a windstorm.
The emperor cupped her face in his hand. “Liyana?”
She took a breath and then another. “Your Imperial Majesty . . .”
“Jarlath,” he said. “My parents called me Jarlath. You may as well.”
She liked the name. “Jarlath, I cannot marry you.” He lowered his hand, and she caught it in hers. “She will not allow it.” But Bayla could not control all of her, despite her threats. Liyana leaned forward and kissed the emperor.
Chapter Thirty-One
Liyana lost herself in the emperor’s arms. She didn’t hear Bayla inside her as anything more than a distant storm. She was aware of every inch of her skin, the way his hands felt on her back and the way his lips tasted. It felt like magic, or the reverse of magic, the way every thought drifted away until she was only here and now, only herself with Jarlath.
And then the moment shattered. “Your Imperial Majesty!”
Releasing him, she shot up to her feet. He rose more gracefully, and his face stilled into his stonelike emperor expression. “Mulaf.” The name was a greeting, a reprimand, and a question all at once.
Mulaf laughed and clapped his hands like a toddler. “I did it! I have them!”
Jarlath frowned, and he slid his hand around Liyana’s fingers. Liyana wondered if he did so consciously or not. She held his hand. “Clarify, please,” he said.
“Inside!” Mulaf thumped his chest and crowed. “Out of gratitude for the kindness that the empire has shown me, I have come to sever our relationship.”
Liyana, look at him, Bayla said.
The magician looked crazed. He wore the bed shirt of an ill man, and his hair was gnarled and uncombed. He walked in tight knots around the tent.
The emperor raised his voice. “Guards.”
No one entered.
Look inside, Bayla urged.
Liyana absorbed a spurt of magic and spread out to touch the magician’s soul. She felt a swirling vortex, sparking like lightning. Suddenly she was flung backward. Her body blew back across the tent and she smacked into the tarp wall.
“Guards!” Jarlath shouted. He raced to Liyana and crouched in front of her, blocking her from Mulaf. “What did you do?” he demanded.
“Take your army home, boy-emperor,” Mulaf said. “I no longer need you to reach the lake.”
They’re inside him, Bayla said. Horror colored her voice. The others . . . They’re inside him!
Liyana grabbed Jarlath, and he helped her to her feet. She pulled out the sky serpent blade, and she stepped in front of him.
“Equals, remember?” Jarlath said. “You don’t guard me, desert princess.” He stepped beside her. He had his own knife in his hand.
“Dear child, I would never hurt you,” Mulaf said to Liyana. “If not for you, I would never have known the possibilities.” He held out his hand palm up and giggled. “Look!” Air swirled on his palm faster and faster, and a whirlwind bloomed. He tossed it upward. It fed on the air and grew larger and larger. He then spread his hands, and the tornado dispersed. The air stilled. “Don’t fear me, child. I promised you freedom, and I will deliver it. You will call me your hero when this is through.”
He cannot go to the lake, Bayla said.
Liyana felt as if the air stilled around her. The lake . . . It’s real?
It is raw magic, the source of all magic in the world, Bayla said. It is essential to us—without its magic in the world, we cannot exist outside the Dreaming. He cannot be allowed to tamper with it!
“Bayla says you cannot go to the lake,” Liyana said. She asked Bayla, You knew the lake was real and did not tell me? All the gods knew and never told their people?
Speak for me: The lake cannot be used as you and the emperor envision. You cannot control it. You cannot even touch it. A single drop will send your soul to the Dreaming, leaving your body an empty shell that will soon die. It is death water for mortals! Liyana repeated her warning.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head,” Mulaf said. “Using it was never my intent.”
“We had an agreement, Mulaf,” Jarlath said. He drew himself to his full height, towering over the magician. His voice was pitched low but it carried, full of authority and reproach.
“I apologize for deceiving you, Your Imperial Majesty,” Mulaf said with a mocking bow, “but Bayla speaks the truth. Saving your people was never possible.”
Jarlath looked as if he had been stabbed. His stone face broke. For an instant Liyana saw the true Jarlath—the boy behind the emperor’s mask—who only wanted to save his people.
“Then what do you want with the lake?” Liyana asked.
Mulaf smiled. “I want to destroy it, of course. It is time for the gods to die.”
Liyana felt her throat dry. Stunned, she could think of no words to say. Knife in his hand, the emperor lunged forward.
With a rush of wind, Mulaf knocked him backward. “This is courtesy only, Your Imperial Majesty. And you, Liyana. Leave here. Live your lives. Honor me in your stories.”
Liyana helped Jarlath to his feet. “Our stories?”
“Stories are the way people understand the world,” Mulaf said. “And I am about to give the people of the turtle a new world.” He spread his arms, and wind whipped around him in a tight circle. It lifted him up. He rose into the air. “At my command the mountains will fall, the lake will be buried, and the gods will leave this world forever. A new era will begin!”
“Wait!” Liyana called. “Don’t!”
He touched the roof of the tent, and the fabric disintegrated as his palms touched it, as if the threads had instantly aged. The cyclone lifted him through the hole toward the night sky and then swept forward, ripping through the tarp. Tearing through more tents, it gouged a crater in the hard sand.