Page 63 of The Maiden and Her Monster

“Something must’ve happened to her,” Malka said. “Between the time I saw her in the synagogue attic to when she showed up at the dais. No one knew where she was. Something could’ve happened within that time.”

“You think someone forced her to kill Ev ? en?” Amnon asked.

Malka closed her eyes, tried to think. Where her connection with Nimrah had once been distracting, the absence of it somehow left her mind more askew.

Her arm began to itch again. The fresh wound tormented her nearly as much as the rooting spell itself had.

Her heart stopped, realization dawning as she stared down at the grotesquely scabbed sketch of letters on her skin.

She had left Nimrah without a connection, something to tie her down.

Exactly what had happened when the Maharal severed their shadows to make his trip to Lei.

But that couldn’t be all it was. Killing the Yahadi boy had been a mistake, but there was no denying the deliberateness with which Nimrah had killed the prince.

Nimrah still had the command on her skin, ready for the next person to control her.

Malka’s breath hitched as she began to piece together a possibility.

She recalled the infirmary, when Sévren had taken special notice of the command written into both Malka and Nimrah’s skin, similar to the writing on the Maharal’s.

Could he have known Malka had severed her connection to Nimrah?

Maybe he didn’t know Nimrah had to be rootless for a new commander to seize her.

She didn’t want to believe her rash actions might have led to this foolish opening for Sévren to take advantage.

“What if it was Sévren?”

Chaia shook her head. “I thought only a Yahad could command Kefesh.”

“It’s not impossible, but the outcome is never good.” The Maharal had that strange look on his face again, like he had drifted elsewhere, pulled to a time long past.

“We have a bigger problem than finding her now,” Katarina said, scratching the back of her neck. “She’s awakened a fury in the Valonian people. She has killed a saint-blessed prince. The Yahad will most likely take the fall for this.”

Malka gritted her teeth. “And that’s exactly what Sévren wants. He wanted to set off violence here just as he did in my village.”

“What are we gonna do?” asked Danya, who bit the nail of her thumb.

“We reveal the truth,” said Vilém. “We show Sévren is the one commanding Nimrah. That she is being used as a weapon and Sévren killed the prince. There’s no other way. Even if we free Nimrah from his command, the damage is done. They need to see the Yahad are not to blame for this.”

“And how exactly is that going to happen?” Amnon asked skeptically. “Do you even know where they went?”

The room fell silent.

Wherever Nimrah had gone, it had to be somewhere close. She had disappeared quickly after knocking down the market stall.

“It can’t be far from the square,” Malka said. “She was gone in an instant.”

“Well, we weren’t in the Yahadi Quarter,” the man with sparse eyebrows said. “No Ozmin would let her inside of their house.”

“Except for Eli?ka, of course,” Chaia countered. “But she’s still in the infirmary.”

Vilém shook his head. “Even so, her house is far on the outskirts. Nimrah would’ve been noticed going there.”

“The only other place around the square was the clocktower,” Malka said.

Chaia’s face lit up. “That’s it! The construction on the clocktower.

They would’ve had to open the inside of the clock in order to work on it.

If it was Ev ? en’s proposal, it’s not a leap to think Sévren had his hand in it.

It’s hidden from view, but he could still see the happenings of the square below. ”

“You think he’d still be there?” Malka asked. “He did what he intended. Ev ? en is dead. He has no reason to linger.”

“What if he’s not done, Malka?” Danya said, her voice barely above a whisper. “What if this is just the beginning?”

“Danya’s right,” Chaia said. “Nimrah was made for violence. Sévren knows this. If he has taken command of her, he doesn’t have to wait for the Ozmins to riot against their Yahadi neighbors. Nimrah would kill them all in half the time.”

“One thing,” Amnon interrupted. “If Sévren is commanding Nimrah, what chance do we have of stopping her? We’ve seen what she can do.”

“Perhaps someone could get through to her,” Chaia said, eyes darting to Malka. “If anyone could tear her from her commands and get her to stop, it would be you.”

Malka shook her head. “You know it can’t be me.” She shut her eyes. “The rooting spell’s been severed. We don’t have that… connection, anymore.”

The room was unbearably silent, but Malka couldn’t get herself to open her eyes, until Chaia took her cheek in her palm.

“That’s not what I meant, Malka,” she said, hand cool against Malka’s warm cheek. “She cares for you in a way that surpasses any spell.”

“Not after the fight we had.”

“Feelings don’t disappear overnight. She knows why you were angry. She won’t hold it against you.”

“Chaia, the things I said to her…” she began, but Chaia cut her off with the shake of her head.

“She’ll forgive you, Malka,” she said softly, her thumb wiping at a tear Malka didn’t realize she had shed.

“Chaia is right,” the Maharal said. “Show her she can be something other than a weapon to control. Show her she is more than why I created her.”

“If he is there, Malka, you must draw him out to the balcony wrapping around the clock,” Vilém said. “It was built as a natural echo chamber for the kings to give their great speeches. If he confesses to killing Ev ? en there, the mob we draw below will hear him.”

“Wouldn’t he know of that already, and avoid it?”

Vilém considered, then shook his head. “It’s unlikely. It was never used because the clock broke right after it was made. That knowledge is long forgotten to anyone but scholars and architects.”

“And you’re sure the villagers will listen to you and follow you back to the square?” Malka questioned.

Ignác waved his hand. “Yes, don’t worry about that.

The other magisters and I are well regarded by the Ozmins in the city.

We have taught many of them, and many of our children play together.

It’s part of why we believe the duke will be successful here.

Those who may be suspicious of his rule will find comfort in our support of him. ”

“And what if he isn’t at the clocktower?” Amnon asked. “You’ll have guided the mob for nothing, and we still wouldn’t have any idea where they went.”

The group silenced, thinking.

Another scholar cleared his throat. “There’s an old bell in the clocktower.

It was put there to manually signal the turn of the hour in case the automation broke.

Before we lead the mob there, Malka could give us a sign.

One bell if they aren’t there, two if they are.

Once we hear that, we can continue with our plan. If not, we reconvene.”

“Good idea,” Vilém said.

“And what about Imma?” Malka asked. “How will we get to her?”

One of the other Yahad responded. “We’ll find her. With the chaos, I imagine more guards will be protecting the king and on the hunt for Nimrah. As much as we didn’t prepare for what Nimrah did, neither did they.”

“You’re strong enough to get her out?” Malka asked.

The Yahadi man chuckled. “Hard work has strengthened our muscles. We are not Nimrah, but in numbers we will have a chance.”

Chaia’s palm returned to Malka’s cheek. “Are you up for this, Malka?”

Malka nodded slowly, though she knew she didn’t have a choice. She would do what she needed to do. She always did.