“I will not waste my time looking for some girl while your people are torturing Arham!” Laila raged. Her hands were clenched into fists by her side.

  “Well, you better hope your friend can survive the torture he’s suffering through. What was it again? Removed nails? Limbs stuck to the wall by rusty nails? Skin peeled–”

  “Fine! I’ll do it!” Laila snapped.

  “Good.”

  They stared at each other. Laila’s labored breaths were loud in the otherwise silent room.

  “You better get to it then.” Daliya waved her off.

  She sent her a murderous look, then left through the window.

  Daliya sat on her bed. Haitham was leaning on the wall, arms crossed, silent as a shadow.

  “You’ve become quite ruthless.” He chuckled, though it lacked its usual mirth.

  Daliya sighed. She felt bad for doing this, but she had to. She promised the old man to keep his grandchild safe. If she had to resort to threatening fire-wielding assassins who wanted nothing more than to set her ablaze, then so be it.

  She opened her hand, and a frozen pattern appeared at the center of her palm. She presented it to him.

  “At the prison, there’s an old man. I gave him an identical symbol. Show it to him, and he’ll take you to your friend.”

  Haitham raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise in his eyes. “Won’t you wait till the girl is found?”

  She looked at him. “I trust you,” she said without a hint of hesitation.

  He opened his mouth as if to say something but shook his head and looked away. “You’re too trusting, my little storm,” he said, the corners of his lips curled into a rueful smile.

  Laila returned at night, a shaking girl, not even ten years old, wrapped in her arms. Despite the angry scowl on her face, her hold was gentle.

  The girl looked at Daliya with frightened eyes. As soon as Laila let her down, she fell to the floor, kneeling.

  “Y–Y–Your H–Highness?”

  Daliya hurried over, helped her to her feet, and guided her to a chair.

  “Do you know why you’re here?”

  The girl shook her head, eyes filled with terror. Dried tears merged with the soot on her face. But soon, the moisture in her green eyes overflowed and spilled over.

  “I–I didn’t do anything! I never used them! I–I did as Grandpa said! I never ever used them.”

  “Hey!” Laila called loudly. The girl flinched at her tone, hunching over herself.

  Daliya sent a look at Laila. The latter shrugged. “I did my part of the bargain. Now it’s your turn. You better honor yours.”

  “I will,” Daliya snapped, then turned her attention to the frightened child.

  She shushed her. “It’s okay. You’re not here because of something you did. You’re here because this Auntie will be taking you and your Grandpa away from here to somewhere safe.”

  Laila’s nose scrunched in displeasure, but she didn’t say anything.

  The girl looked at her, eyes searching for any hint of a lie. Her eyes looked older than her age.

  “You know Grandpa?”

  Daliya smiled softly at her. “Of course. He told me a lot about you. He said he was worried for you, and he wished you safe. He also said that your name was Narin? It’s a beautiful name.” She wiped the tears with the hem of her sleeve. “It suits you.”

  Narin clutched Daliya’s sleeve, her expression urgent. “Will I see him? My Grandpa, is he here?”

  Daliya nodded. “Of course. You’ll see him tomorrow. You’ll spend the night here, and tomorrow, they’ll take you and your Grandpa away.”

  Narin glanced at Haitham and Laila, then back at Daliya. She hesitated, eyes filled with doubt and hope. “Promise?”

  “You have my word.”

  Narin hesitated, her eyes hopeful as she asked, “You’re not with the bad guys?”

  “The bad guys?” Daliya tilted her head to the side.

  “A few days ago, bad guys came to our house. They took Grandpa away.” She clutched her faded dress. “You’re not with them, are you?”

  If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  The tears that had stopped threatened to spill again. Daliya shook her head. “We’re the good guys. Auntie might look a bit grumpy and disagreeable, but she’s one of the good guys, too.” She ignored Haitham’s snicker and Laila’s indignant splutter and continued, “Everything will be fine.” She ruffled her hair.

  Narin shot her a hesitant smile.

  They spent the night reviewing their plan to smuggle the three out of the empire.

  “Aren’t the red plains part of the empire?” Daliya asked, confused. It was stated as such in the map.

  “Well, kinda.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  Both Haitham and Laila answered at the same time. They stared at each other. Then Laila thunderously said, “The empire might have annexed them, but it doesn’t mean they’re no longer a part of Ma’arib!”

  “Quiet down. Narin just fell asleep. God knows the poor girl will need all the rest she could get.”

  It took a lot of time to get her to sleep. Daliya feared she would put it as a royal degree. ‘The princess orders you to close your eyes and sleep.’

  Laila huffed.

  “Can you really keep them safe?” Daliya narrowed her eyes at them. “Imperial soldiers are all over the plains. At least, that’s what the Jerk said.”

  “Their presence doesn’t mean they’ve got things under control. Things are… unstable at best. For someone fleeing the empire’s eyes, it’s as safe as it could get.”

  Laila shot a look at Haitham. “Haitham!” Her voice was sharp.

  “What? She’s helping us free Arham. Telling her as much is nothing.”

  Daliya leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm as she gazed up at the angry woman. “You do know what I’m doing is considered high treason. I don’t want you to get caught, for my sake, not only for yours. Actually, more for me. Just thinking of being on the receiving end of the emperor’s death stare gives me chills.” She shuddered. “Just… don’t screw things up, please.”

  Her next summon was surprisingly the day after. Daliya didn’t know whether she should be relieved or frightened by the emperor’s frequent calls. It just so happened to be the day they were set to free Arham.

  Daliya walked behind the servant, her steps faltering when she was led away from the war room and then deeper under the palace through a complex set of tunnels. It eerily reminded her of the prison, and she briefly wondered whether the dungeon keeper had ratted her out and the emperor would be waiting for her, deep down in the tunnels, with his sword unsheathed, ready to reap her soul.

  As she traveled deeper, the agitated cores of at least a dozen people assaulted her senses. She staggered, bracing herself on the rocky walls. They weren’t monsters’ soul cores. While they were turbulent, they still had a humane feeling to them. But for all the time she had spent in this world, she had never felt a soul core as much unsettled as theirs.

  So that was it then. She was being led to the underground prison, to another section of Qar, one hidden under the palace itself.

  But none of that happened. While the emperor was indeed waiting for her, so was another man—the emperor’s advisor. Daliya hadn't seen him since their first meeting.

  The eerie feeling returned. The man, Makram, smiled at her, though there was no warmth to his smile.

  “Your Highness,” he greeted her.

  She nodded back.

  Why was she here? The servant had left as soon as she had crossed the heavy steel door’s threshold. The door closed with a loud bang, and the emperor gestured for her to come closer.

  She was led to another chamber. Piles and piles of musty-smelling books littered one side of the wall. But it wasn’t what caught her attention. It was the tall glass wall that panned a whole wall section, with small shiny orbs floating around in disarray.

  Those were the soul cores she was feeling.

  Impossible! How could such a thing be? They clearly felt alive to her. They moved around in agitated mayhem as if they, themselves, couldn’t comprehend what was happening to them.

  “Wht–what is this?” she asked in a hushed tone, awe and horror stealing her voice at the end.

  “This, daughter, is our new weapon,” the emperor boasted. “With this, no one can stand before us.”

  Daliya looked at him and then glanced at the advisor, who stood to the side, his face bereft of emotion. The advisor stared back at her.

  Was he the one who did this?

  “These peo—” She cut herself off, swallowing around the lump in her throat. “These creatures, are they still alive?”

  They were. She knew they were. She could feel it.

  It was the advisor who answered her. “Their souls are what give strength to the device.”

  Daliya blinked. What device?

  Then she glimpsed it.

  The weapon strapped to the emperor’s side was not the soul devourer; it was something else. This sword had a dimmer shine. While she had never seen the infamous sword unsheathed, she knew this one was made from a different steel.

  It didn’t call to her, not like the other one.

  The emperor gestured to his advisor. The man walked to one side of the room and dragged a cuffed, struggling man to the center. The unfortunate man was gagged, his tears staining the cloth fastened around his jaw.

  Daliya hadn’t noticed his presence before, not with the turbulent souls raging against the glass case. But now that he was [resente to her, she could feel it now. He was an Elementalist.

  She watched with mounting dread as the emperor advanced toward him. The man’s struggles increased with renewed fervor, fear and despair spilling from his eyes. Daliya wanted to help him, to save him. But there was nothing she could do.

  The emperor lifted the sword, and with a shallow, small cut to the man’s cheek, he fell to the ground, lifeless.

  Daliya felt his soul core die. It was there, then gone the next moment, as if it had never existed.

  She stood there, fighting the tremors that threatened to run over her body. The emperor looked at her, and she forced herself to stare back at him.

  She wouldn’t cave. She would face whatever he had in store for her. She wouldn’t falter.

  “That was perfect, Your Majesty,” she forced the words through a choked throat. “When will the army be equipped with such magnificent steel?”

  The emperor hummed. He turned to his advisor, who advanced toward her. She stood her ground, forcing down the flinch as he took her hand.

  “That’s where Your Highness’s part begins.” At her confused eyes, he elaborated. “I shall need your help in perfecting it. It still had only one use.” he gestured to the sword still clutched in the emperor’s hand. The steel’s shine had dulled into nothingness. A pale gray replacing silver.

  “Your Highness might not have inherited your mother’s powers, but faint traces course through your blood all the same.”

  Twisting her lips into a smile, she said, “Of course. It would be my honor.”