The Other Side of the Sky - Amie Kaufman Page 0,152

them, and Nimh cries out again as the light begins to flow from her to Inshara where the other girl holds tight to her, as if she’s dragging that light from Nimh.

I can’t bear to see it, but I can’t look away. The knowledge beats through me like a drum: this is the end of Nimh, and all I can do is bear witness.

But I love her, and I cannot stand to see it.

She gasps for breath as her light dims and Inshara’s light brightens, and I watch helplessly as Inshara strips Nimh of her divinity.

Inshara gives Nimh a ruthless shake, making her cry out in pain. “It’s all mine, more than it was ever yours,” Inshara snaps. “I am the one the prophecy chose. I will become the Lightbringer. You were never destined for anything—you were never enough for this world.”

Nimh goes still, no longer struggling, as her own fears and doubts come spilling out of the woman draining her of her power. Her eyes are dull, focused somewhere beyond Inshara, beyond me, beyond the very stone itself. For a moment, all is quiet. Then, she whispers a single word into the swirl of rising mist around them: “No.”

Inshara tightens her grip. “What was that?” she asks.

Nimh’s gaze snaps up, meeting Inshara’s with a new, blazing intensity. “I said no. I am my people’s goddess, and you will not stand in my way.”

Inshara’s sharp intake of breath is audible. Nimh’s gaze is unwavering, defiant. And slowly, the balance shifts. Now Inshara grows dimmer as Nimh grows brighter. She claims her divinity, pulls it back and wraps it around herself, as stunning as any royal robe I’ve ever seen.

“How … ?” Inshara demands, teeth gritted as she tries to regain the upper hand.

But Nimh doesn’t answer, all her focus on the struggle between them. She’s stronger. She’s fighting, and she’s winning. Inshara abruptly releases Nimh, scrambling backward.

Finally, Nimh’s light settles back around her, like she’s slipped into a familiar garment. Inshara’s breathing hard, gasping for breath and staring at the goddess whose power she failed to banish.

We’re all frozen in place. I’m afraid to breathe, afraid even to blink, for fear I’ll wake to find my Nimh dark and broken under the triumphant stare of her enemy.

But my burning lungs force me to breathe—and Nimh still kneels there, poised and graceful. And unbroken.

Nimh’s gaze swings around and her eyes find mine, wide and flashing with sudden disbelief and wonder.

Then Inshara’s eyes flick to the side, and I realize what she’s looking at.

There’s something there, half-hidden by the crumbled terrace stones. It glints in the spellfire, and for a moment, no one moves.

The crown. The key to my home—the key to finding a way to destroy it.

Nimh told me once that the mist didn’t just bring madness and death—that sometimes, very, very rarely, it could bring great power.

Inshara has been deeply, deeply mist-touched.

As one, Nimh and Inshara both lunge for the crown. But Inshara is closer.

I move without thinking, trying to give Nimh a head start by grabbing at Inshara’s ankle, but she kicks, catching me in the jaw, and as my vision momentarily fills with stars, she’s gone.

Out of nowhere comes the cat, an orange streak of fury launching himself at Inshara with claws extended, raking them down Inshara’s body with an unearthly yowl. She screeches in reply and flings him away—he lands in a pile of rubble and doesn’t move.

We’ve bought Nimh enough time to grab the crown, but Inshara’s right behind her, and with a cry of effort, she gets a hand on the gold band as well.

Nimh’s on her knees, and she braces one foot against the ground as she hauls against Inshara’s grip—grappling, the two lurch to their feet. The mist around them swirls faster and faster, glowing so brightly I’m forced to shield my eyes as I look up at them.

“Give it to me,” Inshara screams, wild now, clawing at Nimh in desperation.

But before Nimh can reply, a burst of light erupts from the crown itself like a soundless explosion, sending a shock wave rippling through the mist and nearly knocking me flat again.

The cut on my cheek, I realize. She has my blood on her hand—

No.

I struggle back onto my knees in time to see a column of light surround the two of them. An invisible force begins drawing them both upward. Dust and bits of debris rise around them, as if the laws of gravity mean nothing at all. The golden crown hangs