Reign of Darkness (The Prince's Assassin #2) - Ariana Nash Page 0,109

wouldn’t notice? “He recently reminded me exactly who he is.” He turned the book toward Yasir. “Read it. Every page.”

“I thought you didn’t like my using the, er…” He glanced at Maria. “Flame?”

“She knows everything. And the damage is already done. You need to be able to protect yourself.” He straightened and met Maria’s keen gaze. “Vasili mentioned there were more books like this one. Can you get them?”

“Some. Most were destroyed in the fire, but Amir has some. I may be able to remove them from his chamber for a few days while he’s distracted.”

“We have to find a weakness. Something that will end this. There must be a way.”

“The keys?” Yasir asked.

Niko frowned. “The what?”

“Well, they were called wishes in the old tales. You know, I mentioned it.”

“You’ve mentioned a whole lot of things since we met.”

“The jinni and the lamp and its three wishes. Only the wishes actually strengthen the jinni’s prison, not the other way around, like the tale suggests. Go back far enough and the wishes become keys and the jinni is the nasdas, the flame.”

“Do you know what or where these keys are?”

“No idea. I mean, I thought it was all just a folktale until I met you and Vasili.”

“We don’t want to trap it again. We need to snuff it out forever. Find those books, Maria. We’ll have to hope the information we want wasn’t destroyed in the fire.”

“What of the elves?” Yasir asked, looking up from the book. “They have forces moving north from Seran.”

“And from the east, if Vasili is to be believed,” Niko said. “Whether the flame wins or the elves do, we have no choice but to fight with what we have.” Vasili would fight the elves. Alone if he had to. Niko could trust him in that, if nothing else. But he’d use the flame to do it. He’d kill Amir and take the flame to defend his city.

He wasn’t sure who would be the more terrifying as the flame’s only vessel. The mad Amir or the calculating Vasili.

Niko sent Maria back to find the books. While Yasir researched the book they already had, Niko threw on a cloak and took to Loreen’s tired streets. He passed families carting their belongings along behind them, homeless or just wanting to be free of Loreen. His own passing garnered a few opportunistic looks from men and women who were, at best, thieves, at worst, looking for a lone passerby to take out their frustrations on. Loreen’s downfall was worse than he’d feared. Worse than when he’d returned from the war. He wasn’t even sure if there was anything good left in Loreen worth saving.

He homed in on the sounds of hammering and came across several spiked barriers, blocking off wide streets. Defenses. Vasili clearly expected elves to spill into the city.

Niko drifted back to the pleasure-house, thoughts plagued by doubts. Vasili’s betrayal was an open wound, but the more Niko thought on it, the more he tried to find another way, the more he began to realize controlling the king and his forces was likely the only way to defend Loreen.

And all it cost me was you.

But that way was wrong.

What they’d had together, Niko had foolishly believed in it.

He wished the weeks in the cabin had never happened. He wished Vasili had stayed at sea, and he wished the Yazdans weren’t all righteous assholes on a crusade to control the flame and the Cavilles it lived in.

Niko found a bottle of wine among the many left behind when the Stag and Horn’s proprietors had vacated and sat with it at the empty bar. Yasir wordlessly appeared and sat on a stool beside him. He handed over a salt mill. Niko regarded the salt warily and then raised an eyebrow as Yasir began to murmur and focus on his cupped hands. Trails of dark smoke drifted from between his fingers. With a grin, he tossed a black and slithering thing onto the bartop.

Niko froze. The black snake knotted into itself, red eyes fixing on his. There was a knowing in its eyes, just like that of the beast’s Vasili had sent. Were these creatures conscious? Did they have a will of their own that the sorcerers corrupted?

Niko reached out a hand.

The snake lunged, mouth open, fangs exposed.

He sprang from the stool, snatched the salt, and tossed the powdery granules at the damned thing slithering across the floor. It bucked and twisted, shriveling like a slug caught in the sun, and