Page 57 of Every Spiral of Fate (This Woven Kingdom #4)
Fifty-Four
AT THAT, THE DEVIL SMILED.
The shadows cleared entirely from his face, cloaks of darkness retreating from around him.
“It’s an elegant plan, isn’t it?” he said. “Cyrus has made things simple, for I can sense the residue of black magic—courtesy of my recent transformation—in the lining of his pocket.”
Odd, then, that the devil did not reach into his pocket.
In fact, he made no effort to harm her or touch her. Nor did he draw any closer.
“You speak of Cyrus as if he’s present,” said Alizeh cautiously.
Iblees lost his smile.
He looked away, studying the softly dissolving scenery.
“You have access to his mind and to his magic,” Alizeh pressed on, her heart rate picking up. “You can see me through his perspective.”
Iblees turned back to face her, but darkness had fallen across his eyes like a blade.
Something was wrong.
Alizeh’s mind worked madly to understand why Iblees wouldn’t attempt to seize her now, when he already possessed the toxins that might destroy her. Brief contact with such a poison had left her infirm for nearly a month. If he so much as blew a speck in her direction, he might easily overpower her—
So why delay the act when she stood within arm’s reach?
Why not force her to retrieve her power now, when the mirage around them was falling away, and all but doomed to inhale them? Why not wield Cyrus’s latent magic to immobilize her, when he’d been so quick to paralyze her friends?
Her hand curled around the dagger in her skirt pocket.
It made no sense that Iblees would allow himself such exposure. He was open to attack, yet he appeared unbothered. He was running out of time, yet he made an effort to act unhurried—
Alizeh stiffened.
I suppose this annoyance won’t last much longer , he’d said.
When she finally fit the pieces together, she felt her chest cave in.
Iblees was waiting for Cyrus to die.
While Cyrus was still alive, his body would be shackled by the two tiers of protection bound to his soul: not just the blood oath, which prevented him from touching her should she not desire it; but the wedding vows, which obliged him to keep her safe from harm.
So long as Cyrus persisted in his own skin, she realized, Iblees couldn’t hurt her.
No, it was more than that: he couldn’t so much as move in a harmful direction toward her, or it would swiftly kill him. This realization was incendiary.
Cyrus? she cried out. Are you still there?
When there was no response, she felt her panic spike.
“ He’s nearly dead now.” The devil turned languidly to look at her, and she saw, with horror, that black veins had begun to bloom outward from Cyrus’s eyes, feathering under his skin.
“I’ll admit, it’s taking a great deal longer to kill him than I expected,” said Iblees, shifting uncomfortably.
He stretched his neck in that strange way, his eyes briefly rolling back in his head.
“I thought this part would be over by now, but he’s put up a good fight.
You can keep calling for him if you like, but there’s little left of him now. ”
“No,” she whispered.
“You waited too long,” Iblees said with a dark laugh.
“You waited too long, and now I am but moments from victory. Why did you hesitate to kill the body that contains me? Oh, I’m sure you told yourself it was because you were forming a plan, but we both know your heart has always been your failure.
You can’t bear to kill him, can you? I’m mere breaths from owning you forevermore, and you still won’t lift a hand against me, not even to preserve your own freedom.
You still think you might be able to save him—”
Alizeh was hardly listening.
She was thinking of Cyrus, who was using the last of his strength against the darkest force imaginable, just to be able to provide her with this shield.
He’s put up a good fight.
The world seemed to end for her then.
She looked around blindly as the devil’s cruel, dismissive words lit the kindling of her bones. Memory, like wind, blew through the halls of her mind, the sound of Cyrus’s ragged voice as he’d made the blood oath rising louder and louder in her head—
I offer you my kingdom in exchange for your hand in marriage. And I vow never to touch you unless you should desire that I do. Once I’m discharged of my debt to the devil, I offer you my life. You are free to kill me then at your discretion, for I will die willingly at your hand.
He was doing this all for her.
Cyrus was fighting to stay alive not for a chance at survival—but for these bonds to endure while his body was still willing to submit to death.
He fought to live only so that she might freely kill him.
“I was so certain of your frailty,” Iblees went on, “that I took a considered gamble by drawing closer to you. Do you not see your mistake? I stand before you now, openly admitting to my plans, and still, you won’t try to stop me, all because of him—because you want to save him —”
Alizeh felt the rise of a dizzying rage.
“Everyone has weaknesses,” he was saying, “and it’s my job to identify, then isolate, those weaknesses. I knew the moment I looked into your cradle that your delicate heart would be your greatest deficiency.” He shook his head, then torqued it. “You waited too long, just as I knew you would—”
She was possessed then of a hatred so acute the edges of her vision went white. She felt flooded with heat, consumed by feelings so violent they stoked within her a choking inferno.
Perhaps she’d not yet accessed the supreme magic—the magic she’d need to affect great change in the world—but Cyrus had told her she’d been born a Diviner, that her powers were uniquely intrinsic. She knew he wouldn’t have said such a thing if he didn’t believe it to be unequivocally true.
He’d said she had a direct line into the earth.
“Your heart is fatal,” Iblees went on, “and your reckless compassion would be fatal for all of us. I don’t care what the prophecy says about woven kingdoms. The future cannot be unification; the future must be eradication—”
If nothing else, she should be able to call upon the same magic that altered her eyes, her blood, her ability to heal. She’d been able to summon a dagger and establish silent communication—
Surely she might be able to summon a bit more?
Alizeh put the force of her soul into the effort, calling upon the power of these mountains—the destiny she knew to be hers—and when she felt the fiery response surge into her body, she rocked back on her heels with a sharp, startled breath.
She felt as if she’d released a dam.
The free flow of magic now coursed easily within her, a storm at first, then languid as it swept and settled in her veins. She was surprised by how gentle it felt, how soft and subtle.
And yet, she felt almost light-headed with power.
“This is why you need me by your side,” Iblees was saying, a smile flickering across his borrowed face. Black veins were snaking all across his skin now. “I knew you could not rule alone. I knew you would be too weak to do what was necessary—”
Cyrus? she cried. Cyrus, can you hear me?
She was returned only faint warmth in response, and her heart beat so hard then it hurt. She wanted to tell him to keep fighting, to hang on just a little while longer—but she didn’t want Iblees to know the shape of her plans, so she said only—
You once told me you had a theory . You claimed that if you were badly wounded, I would save you. Do you remember?
Suddenly: a stronger spark of heat.
You said that I wouldn’t be able to leave you behind, and I’d told you then that you were wrong. I said I’d leave you there and run for my life. Do you remember?
Another spark of heat.
I lied , she said.
“You need me to guide you,” Iblees was saying, “to show you how to wield your power, to properly exterminate these weak creatures from our world and reestablish Jinn as the sole race on earth—”
It was true that Alizeh’s heart was perhaps more tender than most. It was true that she cried too easily and felt too deeply. But too often her kindness was misunderstood.
Always, she was underestimated.
No matter what happens next , she said. I need you to hold on.
Her enemies thought her softness made her weak.
But it was the very softness of her heart that drove her to slaughter armies in the defense of those she loved.
She knew when to wipe her tears, when to rise to her feet, when to draw boundaries and when to draw blood.
Her kindness was not inexhaustible; it was not unconditional.
And she did not extend compassion to tyrants.
Iblees had made a poor calculation.
Alizeh drew the dagger from her pocket and drove it, without warning, directly into his heart.