Haitham stumbled on his feet. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “I’m getting a bit dizzy. It must be all that wine I drank earlier.” He shook his head in an attempt to clear it.

  Daliya had noticed for a while now that his movements had become a bit sluggish.

  “Do you need water?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  She eyed the table where more nobles were eyeing her, waiting for an opportunity to corner her.

  Haitham chuckled. “I’ll go get it. Get some air. We wouldn’t want the vultures to ambush you while I’m away.” He nodded his head towards the balcony.

  Only when she stepped into fresh air did she notice how suffocating it was inside the hall. She took a deep breath, relishing the cool night breeze against her flushed skin.

  “Exhausted already? Can’t blame you.”

  Laila stood at the corner, her arms crossed over her chest, eyebrow raised.

  “You’re here.”

  “Haven’t got anywhere else to go, not after I helped Haitham.” She shrugged.

  Daliya stopped the exasperated sigh from escaping her lips. Did that mean she would find her wherever they went?

  Daliya leaned on the railing, letting the slight breeze play with the loose strands of her hair.

  “Thank you.” Laila’s voice broke the silence. Daliya glanced at her.

  “For saving Arham. You didn’t have to,” Laila elaborated.

  Daliya nodded. “You’re welcome.” She turned to face the uncomfortable-looking assassin. “Like I said, I have no intention to hurt you. I’m just trying to find a way to survive, much as you.”

  Laila shot her a suspicious look. She paused, chewing on her lower lip. “This might be a fleeting fancy to you, but to us…” She trailed off. She ran her hand through her hair, sighing. “Just… He told me to trust his judgment, so I’ll do that, just this once.”

  “Thank you,” Daliya said, her tone lifting in the end, making it sound more like a question.

  “Go back to your banquet, princess, lest they come looking for you. I have neither the stamina nor the mood to deal with them.”

  Daliya smiled. Neither did she.

  “See you later then,” she said.

  Laila gave her a weird look. “Hopefully not.”

  There was a commotion inside. Armed men in heavy armor, swords unsheathed, were making their way into the hall. All heading in one direction.

  As she neared the center of the commotion, Mazin stepped in front of her, barring the path to the main hall. Daliya narrowed her eyes at him, growing impatient with each exclamation by the attendees at whatever happened further inside the hall.

  “Get out of my way,” she hissed under her breath, her voice low so only he could hear her.

  He looked to the side, guilt and something else—maybe fear—washed over his face. No, something more horrifying than fear twisted over his face. Whatever lay ahead was terrifying enough to send her knight captain trembling inside his armor.

  “Please, leave this place, your Highness,” he whispered.

  She would have if she had found Haitham.

  Dread and something much darker twisted her chest, squeezing her heart till she could feel it stutter and pause for a fraction of a second. The air was thick with an unspoken menace, heightening her unease.

  Haitham. Where was Haitham? He had promised to return to her momentarily, but each passing second felt like an eternity amid this unsettling situation.

  She stepped to the side, intent on heading to the hall’s center. She glared at Mazin as he shifted to stop her again. Whatever he saw on her face made him step aside. She walked, her steps fast and heavy, thinking about what she would find.

  It couldn’t be Haitham. He was strong. The strongest she had ever seen since she first stepped into this world. He wouldn’t let himself be captured easily.

  A group of nobles formed a circle around the emperor, who stood with his infamous sword unsheathed and held in front of him toward a held-down figure on the ground, two imperial knights holding him by the shoulders, silver manacles fastened around his bloody arms.

  She didn’t need to look at the man’s face to know it was Haitham.

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  The world tilted around her, and static filled her ears. Suddenly, all the crowd in the hall fell away. Only Haitham remained, kneeling on the ground with a silver sword held above his head, threatening to strike any second and extinguish his flame. It wasn’t until the sword shifted towards her that she noticed someone was speaking to her.

  The emperor.

  She blinked, and the hall came back into focus. The nobles’s hushed whispers filled the hall like the buzzing of bees.

  “Come, daughter.” The emperor reached his hand toward her, inching her forward.

  She walked, her movements mechanical. Haitham’s face was facing the ground. No matter how much she hoped he would look up at her, he would wrench his shoulders from the two knights’ grasp and reach for her…

  He didn’t move. Not an inch. As if some weight burdened him, something unseen.

  Then she noticed it. The manacles were made from silver steel.

  Power nullifying manacles.

  Black, charred skin peeked around the edges of the silver device. Haitham must have attempted to use his powers even after he was apprehended—times and times again.

  The emperor seized her arm and pulled her closer, his grip so tight she was sure bruises had already started forming. “Wretched daughter. Did you think I wouldn’t notice the little flame you kept at arm’s length? Parading around with Ma’arib’s lost heir like some trophy. Ridiculing me,” he hissed.

  Ma’arib’s heir? What was he talking about? Haitham was an assassin.

  “I didn’t think you had it in you to oppose me blatantly. I have given you enough time to come to your senses. Allowed you audience to confess your crimes. His head should have been gifted to me.” He regarded her. “What had changed you? What else did you scheme behind my back?”

  He let go of her arm and stepped toward Haitham. Daliya’s heart stopped. He stopped in front of him, turned to her, and held his sword toward her.

  “But I’m a benevolent emperor. And above all, a loving father. I give you a chance to right your wrongs. Kill this ungrateful dog, and you shall be pardoned. Do not disappoint me again.”

  She took a step back, her heels dragging against the floor. Then Haitham lifted his head to look at her. His eyes seemed unfocused and hazy.

  He was drugged.

  The emperor’s smile widened as he thrust the sword towards her. She shook her head. She couldn’t do it.

  “You dare disobey me, girl.”

  The word ‘girl’ was filled with so much venom it made her skin prickle.

  She needed to escape, to get Haitham away from here. But doing so would mean high treason to the empire, her own head on the stake, and never going back to her world. She felt torn. What should she do?

  Then, the emperor returned to the kneeling Haitham and lifted his sword to strike him. All thought fled her mind. One second, she was frozen on the ground, her eyes roaming around the hall, looking for a way out. The next, she was in front of Haitham, an ice dagger against the silver sword. She heard Haitham make a half-choked sound, a half-spoken word starting with her name and ending with a pained groan. She faltered, battling to turn away from the emperor’s hateful eyes and look back at him.

  It was a fatal mistake. One Haitham had often warned her against all those training hours.

  In that split second, her focus faltered. The sword’s sharp blade shattered her dagger and tore into the skin of her arm. The red of her blood was startling against the white of her dress. She stared in a haze as the crimson liquid stained the intricate stitches along her sleeve. Then the pain registered, and with it came a strange feeling extending from her hand to her whole body, a prickling like a thousand needles piercing her skin at once.

  “No–”

  She heard Haitham’s strangled shout and the imperial knights’ attempt to restrain him.

  The emperor scoffed, a dangerous glint passing over his eyes.

  “Sacrificing yourself for a scum like him. I should have known you would be as foolish as her.” His lips twisted into a scowl, and his eyes clouded for a second. A strange emotion passed over his face too fast for her to decipher. Then he lifted his sword, ready to strike her again. Daliya blinked again and again, trying to dispel the haze away from her mind. All her thoughts converged into one: escape. But to do that, she needed to free Haitham. In her daze, she glimpsed the silver key dangling from the inner part of the jacket. She summoned another dagger. Her powers flickered and glitched for a second. It took the dagger another split second to materialize into her grasp. She saw surprise and shock flicker in the emperor’s gaze, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it. She launched herself at him, aiming for his neck. He stumbled back and shifted his hold over his sword into a defensive stance.

  She changed her aim inches before her dagger made contact with the silver blade, aiming for the jacket instead and, more precisely, for the key. She snatched it as soon as it was detached from the silken garment, then jerked back, throwing herself at the startled knights who stepped away from her frenzied dagger. She battled with the manacle’s keyhole, failing once and twice to align the key in her dazed state. She felt warmth at her back and turned just enough to glimpse red hair.

  Laila was here, fighting with the emperor. She had to hurry. Despite her strength, Laila couldn’t fend off his attacks for long.

  She succeeded on the third try. The manacles fell to the ground with a loud thud. She winced, closing her eyes as the sound sent her head throbbing. She felt warm hands on her face, but they were gone the second she opened her eyes. Maybe she had dreamed it up. She blinked. Haitham wasn’t in front of her. Where did he go? Didn’t she free him? And why was it suddenly warm? No. It wasn’t just warm; it was scorching hot, like a volcano had erupted somewhere behind her.

  She turned as horrified screams erupted around her. She wasn’t sure whether what she saw was real or she was still dreaming—like the feeling of hands on her freezing face.

  Black flames. Black flames were eating away at the hall like a hungry beast that hadn’t been fed for centuries. And at the center of the fire was Haitham. His eyes had lost their warm brown; they looked like molten lava—too bright and too frightening. Laila was screaming something at him, but whatever she was saying wasn’t registering in his wild state. His eyes were fixed on the emperor’s frightened face.

  Daliya struggled to get to her feet. She needed to get to Haitham. She needed to stop him, to get him back to his senses. But the moment she got one foot under her, she slipped, her weight too great for her unfeeling legs. She tumbled to the ground, her spinning head connecting with the ground, hard.

  Then the roaring flames stilled as if frozen in time, and Haitham was kneeling in front of her, his face awash with fear and something like desperation filling his frantic eyes. They were back to their beautiful brown color, she absentmindedly noted. Good. He was back to normal. He would be fine. She didn’t have to worry about him now. Daliya allowed a breath of relief to escape her seizing throat.

  He was saying something, but the words twisted and mingled in her confused mind. She was tired, too tired to try to decipher them. She wanted to tell him that she was fine, that they should leave now, but her mouth refused to obey her.

  She allowed her heavy eyes to close. She would only rest for a bit, she told herself. And then she knew no more.