“Renounce my husband’s proposal and flee Everam’s Bounty tonight,” Inevera said. “I give you this one chance to live.”

“Your last two attempts on my life failed, Damajah,” Leesha said. “What makes you think another would have success?”

“Because I won’t leave it up to a fifteen-year-old girl this time,” Inevera said, “and because my husband won’t find us here in time to save you. I shall tell everyone that you came to murder me the night you seduced my husband. No one will question my right to end you.”

Leesha smiled. “I question whether you can manage it.”

Inevera produced a small object from beneath her pillows, and there was a gout of fire that brightened the room, striking Leesha with an intense flash of heat before it vanished.

“I can incinerate you where you sit,” Inevera promised.

It was an impressive trick, but Leesha, who had been brewing flamework for over a decade, found the effect less profound than the means by which it was created. Inevera had struck no spark, mixed no chemics, made no impact. She looked more closely at the object in Inevera’s hand, and it all became clear.

It was a flame demon skull.

That’s how she’s powering the wards, Leesha realized, wondering why she hadn’t thought of it herself months ago. Alagai hora. Demon bones.

The realization brought endless possibilities, but none that mattered if she could not live through the night. She couldn’t draw wards to counter the fire before Inevera incinerated her.

“Is that how you power the doorframe?” Leesha asked, turning to glance at the door. “Are there alagai hora hidden in the wood?”

Inevera glanced toward the door, and in that instant Leesha’s hand darted to a pocket of her apron, coming out with a handful of toss bangs she threw Inevera’s way.

The little twists of paper exploded with cracks and flashes, perfectly harmless, but Inevera shrieked and threw her arms in front of her face. Leesha wasted no time, crossing the space between them in an instant and grabbing the wrist that held the demon skull. She pressed her thumb hard into a nerve cluster, and the skull fell to the floor. Leesha’s other hand was not idle, curling into a fist. The weak cartilage of the Damajah’s nose crumpled most satisfyingly.

Leesha drew back for a second blow, but Inevera rolled onto the floor and twisted, grabbing Leesha’s shoulders and driving a knee between her legs with force that would have done a camel proud.

“Whore!” Inevera shrieked as pain exploded through Leesha. “Did my husband thrust well?” she shouted, kneeing Leesha’s crotch again. “Did my husband thrust hard?” She struck a third time.

Leesha had never felt such pain. She grabbed blindly for the Damajah’s hair, but Inevera caught her sleeve cuffs in tight fists, guiding Leesha’s arms away as a Jongleur might guide a puppet’s. In her heavy skirts, Leesha was helpless to resist as Inevera slithered behind her and dropped the sleeves in favor of a choke hold.

“Thank you,” Inevera whispered in her ear. “I would have killed you with clean fire and spared the paint on my nails, but this is much more satisfying.”

Leesha rolled and thrashed, but it did little good. Inevera locked her legs around Leesha’s waist and kept her face covered by her arms. Leesha could reach no vulnerable point with hand or powder, and the world began to blur as the air in her lungs depleted. She reached for the demon skull on the floor, but Inevera kicked it away. Leesha was beginning to black out when she pulled the warded knife from her belt and drove it into Inevera’s thigh.

A hot jet of blood struck Leesha’s hand, sickening her, but Inevera screamed and lost her grip. Leesha was able to kick away, sucking in a lifegiving breath as she rolled to her knees with the knife held out before her. Inevera rolled the other way, reaching into a pouch at her waist and throwing something Leesha’s way.

Leesha dove to the side as what seemed and sounded like a swarm of hornets shot past. She cried out as one of the projectiles passed clear through her thigh, and another lodged in her shoulder. She pulled it free and found she held a demon tooth. It was covered in her blood, but she could feel with her thumb the wards etched into its surface. She shoved it into a pocket for later study.

Inevera was back on her feet by then, charging at Leesha, but Leesha put her knife up as she got back to her feet. Inevera checked herself and began to circle. She pulled a curved knife of her own from her belt, the warded blade sharp as any of Leesha’s scalpels.

Leesha put a hand into another of her apron’s pouches, and Inevera made a similar reach into the black velvet bag at her waist.

The coreling prince watched in amusement as the females postured like high princes when the queen was preparing to mate. It had intended to consume the Northern female’s mind and replace her with its mimic to get close and kill the heir, but their own politics were so much more delicious. They could break both the heir’s spirit and his dream of unity at once.

All they needed was a nudge.

CHAPTER 32

DEMON’S CHOICE

333 AR SUMMER

IT WAS THE DARKEST part of the night when Jardir finally returned to his palace. He was not tired; he had not truly felt tired of body since he had first used the Spear of Kaji, but he longed for his bed nevertheless, if only for a chance to close his eyes and dream of her to while away some of the hours before he could visit again.

Leesha Paper truly was a gift from Everam. Her acceptance of his proposal seemed assured, and with it his foothold in the Northland. But he found that mattered less to him now than the thought of having her at his side. Brilliant, beautiful, and young enough to bear him many sons, she also contained a boundless passion that came out in her anger, and in her loving. A worthy bride for even the Deliverer, and a valuable check against the Damajah’s rising power. Inevera would try to stop the marriage, of course, but that was a worry for another day.

Jardir saw the light on in his chambers and frowned. Everam’s Bounty had no Undercity for women and children, even on Waning. His wives instead took turns waiting in his private chambers with a bath and a willing body, but Jardir wanted neither water nor woman. His lust could only be sated by one, and beneath his robes, her scent was still on his skin. He wanted to keep it there a little longer.

“I require nothing,” he said as he entered. “Leave me.”

But the women in his room were not lesser wives, and they made no effort to leave.

“We need to talk,” Leesha said, and at her side Inevera nodded.

“For once, I agree with the Northern whore,” Inevera said.

There was a moment of silence that seemed to Jardir to last for many minutes, as he struggled to embrace this new development and return to his center.

He looked more closely at the women. Their clothes were ragged and torn. Inevera had a blood-soaked scarf tied around her leg, and Leesha’s shoulder was similarly bound. Inevera’s nose was twisted and swollen three times its normal size, and Leesha’s throat was purple and bruised. She favored one leg.

“What has happened?” Jardir demanded.

“Your First Wife and I have been talking,” Leesha said.

“And we have decided we will not share you,” Inevera said.

Jardir made to go to them, but Leesha held up a finger that checked him like a child. “You keep your distance. No touching either of us again until you make a choice.”