Page 130 of King of Storms and Feathers

Slashing my blade, I kept him moving backward, pushing him into the crowd as he tried to defend himself. He cut the side of my leg open with one savage thrust. The Mydorians shoved him forward, as if they wanted him to fail.

“Oh, do you think so, Zali?” He flicked his hand out and magic blinded me. “Some of us prefer to utilize easier methods.”

Pain slammed across my forearm, and when the magic cleared, my sword was gone.

Thrown backward from the force of the energy he’d released, Quin’s body was spread out on a patch of grass a short distance away. On the ground beside him, rested Arrow’s beautiful sword.

Quin looked over his shoulder, his hand grappling for the blade, then he threw it into the crowd, not caring on who or where it landed.

Shit. How could I win this fight without a weapon? This was over. I was over. Raising my fists in front of my face, I looked at the sky. Thank the gods, Arrow had returned at lightning speed. Back-lit by silvery clouds, he hung in the air like an avenging angel, his wings slowly stirring the breeze. He grinned and dropped a dagger, and I caught it by its golden hilt. Auryinnian silver, the strongest material in the realms, flashed in my fist like a bolt of lightning.

“Good catch,” he mouthed.

“Good throw,” I whispered back, widening my stance and getting a good grip on the dagger.

Screaming, Quin launched to his feet, his limbs blurring as he charged toward me, spit flying from his mouth, like a rabid beast. Crouching slightly, every muscle tense, I waited for the right moment, my world, my whole life narrowing to this second. And then I leaped into the air.

Propelling myself forward on the steam of murderous fury, I sank Arrow’s knife through leather and plunged it into my twin brother’s heart. Once, twice as I roared, twisting the blade to be sure.

Releasing a tortured moan, I wrapped my arms around him as we fell to the ground, our limbs entwined.

“Quin!” The breath whooshed out of me, and I heard Arrow speak as if from underwater, barking at the crowd to move. To give us space.

My brother’s breath rasped against my cheek.

I leaned over him. “It’s all right,” I lied. “I’ve got you.”

“Zali… I’m so cold. Don’t leave... please.”

“I won’t. I promise. I’ll stay right here.”

Cradling his head, I brushed hair the same shade as mine from his eyes and let my tears fall and merge with the blood pulsing from his chest.

I didn’t cry because of what he’d done to me. I cried for what we had once been—brother and sister, twin hearts, rambling through the forest for days on end, so happy that if we had died jumping off those cliffs into the river, we would have been at peace with our lives ending then. Because we were together.

My visions hadn’t been wrong. I was sure of it. Once, he had loved me. And that version of Quin, I swore to always remember, the brother with clear green eyes, smiling at me through a riot of vines and leaves in the forest.

“Zali?” He coughed, blood spurting from his mouth. “Remember… our tree?”

“The white ash? Of course.”

“Mother always told us… don’t jump from it. Too high. But we… never listened.”

“No. We never did.”

He touched my chest with shaking fingers. “Twin souls. Are you worried you might die, too?”

“No. And if I do, our people have the gold reavers and Van to set them on the right course. All is as it should be, brother. No need to worry. You can rest now.”

“Yes… rest. So tired.” Even as he took his last breath, his hand patted his pockets, searching for his vial of serum.

“You don’t need that anymore, Quin.” Instead of the vial, I pressed my lips to his mouth. “Sleep well, brother,” I whispered and watched the last spark of life in his half-closed eyes extinguish.

Van appeared, crouching at my side, and I dragged him into my arms as we sobbed together.

“It’s all right, Zali. He can’t hurt you, can’t hurt anyone now.” Van kissed my cheek, then rose and scanned the crowd, his gold-green gaze intense. “Look at your princess. Then look at what greed for power and gold addiction has done to her twin. Quin Omala was no regent of the people. No caretaker.”

Still cradling my twin’s dead body on the ground, I watched my younger brother with awe and tried to swallow my tears.

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