We Free the Stars by Hafsah Faizal

Author:Hafsah Faizal
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux (BYR)

CHAPTER 50

The malodorous scent of blood clung to the room, transporting Altair to the plains of the battlefield. Anywhere that was not here. The Lion’s tenacity was endless, for more than once, those amber eyes rolled to the back of his head, but not one time did he lose consciousness. He was bleary but alert as Aya cut and hacked at his body, healing him as she went along.

It was better than Altair was doing.

“He will kill you,” he said. No matter what transpired, the Lion still loathed safin a thousand times over.

Aya only smiled, as dreamily as ever. The same way she had smiled years ago when she ran her fingers through Altair’s hair. The same way she had smiled when her son was born.

“Think of what you’re aiding,” Altair pleaded, uncaring that the Lion was witness.

“The ignition of a new world,” Aya said. “Had it not been for the Sisters, Benyamin would live. My son would live.”

“Listen to yourself,” he roared, wrenching against the ifrit again. His legs trembled like a daama fawn’s, his strength diminishing. “The Lion killed Benyamin. Right in front of me.”

The Lion merely blinked at her. “Do not believe the musings of the mad, fair Aya. Benyamin was akin to a brother—he brought me into your fold. Cared for me as no one else did.”

Altair stared in disbelief. “Then ask him how Benyamin died on the island where the Lion was our only foe.”

Aya paused, fingers poised above the Lion’s chest. She turned to Altair with the barest hint of sense.

“Protecting yet another descendant of the Sisters,” the Lion said simply, and Aya exhaled slowly, reaching for one of her tools. “You see? They will always be the cause of our troubles.”

Sultan’s teeth. “Yet here you are, Aya, giving him power that even the Sisters themselves venerated.”

“A power I will wield well, for I have suffered as you have, as the Sisters never did.”

Aya looked at Altair, wide eyes soft, and he dared to hope. “It is truth, is it not?”

No. Her hands closed around the heart. The heart the Sisters had entrusted to them. To him. The ifrits’ clawed hands dug into his skin.

“Aya, please,” Altair begged. She ignored him, tongue between her teeth in concentration.

And there was a moment like a sigh when the pulsing organ was fitted into place.

Altair’s sob was soundless. The Lion’s chest rose and fell rapidly as he struggled to acclimate. Aya’s hands were steeped in red and black, magic aiding her along, connecting arteries and valves with sickening precision.

But she was not yet finished.

And Altair was not yet dead.

He emptied his mind, wiped away the pain, and collected what remained of his strength. But even if he could break free, he had no access to a weapon. He couldn’t blast her with a beam of light because of the daama shackles. He couldn’t stab her with a scalpel, too far out of reach.

No—he would wring her neck with his bare hands.

He wrenched forward and fell to his knees with a force that rattled his teeth.

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