Page 89 of Between Smoke and Shadow

The bear-wolf hybrid charges me, knocking me back down. Its clawed paw slams into my ribcage, and I feel every bone crunch in my chest. I cough, straining my lungs, waiting. Because even though I don’t understand Malek, I know him well enough. I know that no matter the circumstance, he can’t help but treat everything like a game. Even this.

He has to taunt me, to tease me. Maybe because he’s a monster, but maybe just because he’s my brother.

“Is that all, Harrick?” he calls with a pitying laugh. Right on cue. “And here I thought?—”

He’s so busy watching my face, he doesn’t see my vine until it’s too late. It’s wrapped around his throat, cutting his sentence in half. With my teeth gritted and the edges of my vision going black, I force all my attention on my brother. Twenty cycles of him expecting me to lose, of me being too afraid to win.

“I wanted us to be brothers,” I say again. I’m not sure why.

As Malek struggles to breath, his beast shudders and fizzles, dissolving into mist above me. I suck a full breath of air into my aching lungs and rotate onto my elbow. Malek is staring at me, face purple and eyes bulging.

“I’m sorry, Malek,” I say. I hate that I am. I hate that for so many cycles, I hoped we could end any other way. “I’msorry.”

“Harrick—”

He barely manages to speak the word, but even if he says more, I don’t hear it. I scream, unleashing every drop of magic and energy and hatred I have in my body. For the first time, maybe in my entire life, I don’t hold back. I clench my fists, tightening my vines against his skin. I don’t watch his dark blood seep over my magic. I stare only at his eyes, at the way they look when the light finally goes out.

A rough sob breaks from my throat.

Malek is dead.

A strangled scream follows, bringing my magic back into my palms.

I killed him.

I lurch onto my knees.

I killed my brother.

I crawl across the stage, not letting myself think. I act on instinct alone, on the pure need to find her, to save her, to protect her. I stretch for Malek’s magic as it swirls above us. With my hand extended, I capture it all, pulling it deep into my bones, taking more than I probably should. I’m nauseated, even as the magic soothes my wounds and sharpens my spent magic. I lurch to my feet, drunk with power, overcome with immense magic.

I don’t let myself look at Malek again.

Instead, I survey the mess around me. In a matter of minutes, everything has changed.

I am alone on the stage with my brother’s corpse. The servants have disappeared, and the courtyard is overrun by guards. Thirty of them, at least, some in their usual attire, but many without their masks. I waver on my feet as I watch them, sure that I’d be unconscious without this rush of adrenaline—and stolen magic.

I blink at the chaos. It takes me a moment to process what I’m seeing through the excess of crumbled rock and root, hazy shadow and sharp magic. Those with masks are fighting against those without, and it is only when I see a familiar face that I put everything together.

Joran shouts orders from the center of the battlefield. His head is exposed, revealing the bright red hair I haven’t seen since before he entered the military. The maskless guards are fighting, not against me, butforme.

I launch off the stage, throwing myself into the madness. Through the blur of violent magic and wielded blades, I searchonly for her. With every guard I kill, I scan the surrounding area. I find two bodies of male servants, their corpses sprawled near the stage. She isn’t with them.

Get out, I plead silently to her.Don’t let anyone find you.

A hand clasps my shoulder, and I spin, palms raised and ready. I lower them when I realize it’s Tora. Dae stands at her back, blocking her from the onslaught of approaching guards.

“Tora,” I say. Her name is a breath of relief and terror at once. She’s okay, but she’s here.

“Joran had me take her inside,” she says. “She should be safe.”

“Where?” I ask. I glance over her shoulder, checking for threats, for Rune, for anything. When she doesn’t answer, I demand louder, “Where?”

Before she responds, a chilling voice breaks through all else.

“Stand down,” the Architect calls. His words are no more than a whisper, and yet, it becomes the only thing I hear. Tora stumbles against me, and Dae blindly steps closer until she’s shielded behind him. The Architect’s voice raises, “Anyone who is not on their knees in the next five seconds will be slaughtered.”

Tora stares up at me. She’s crying, lips trembling as she tightens her hold on my shoulder.

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