Page 104 of All the Wandering Light

“I—no.” The pain dug its claws deeper, dragged me closer to that dark place. “It isn’t fair.”

It is always fair. It must balance. Your sister’s life, in exchange for yours. A soul for a soul.

Dread rose within me, for Azar-at was right. There was a malevolent fairness in what the fire demon demanded. Would I give my life for Lusha’s life?

I didn’t even have to think about it. Of course I would.

But just because something was fair didn’t make it right. I had faced death before, and I hadn’t backed down. I wasn’t about to start now.

Remembering the reaction it had drawn from Azar-at, I reached for the star’s power again, using it to push back against the pain. I didn’t know what I was doing, but the star responded readily, and once again, the pain receded.

Azar-at made that eerie sound again. The pain returned, stronger than before.

I do not understand, it said. Its voice in my thoughts was as calm as ever, despite the growls and the brightness in its coal eyes.

Gathering up my strength, I gave another desperate push. Azar-at, to my amazement, stumbled back a step.

What is this? The fire demon’s growls were constant now. You agreed—

“I never agreed to this.” I felt almost light-headed at my success, or perhaps it was from the pain still throbbing through my chest.

You cannot break the contract.

There was another horrible tug. I felt the star recoil in terror, even as I clung to it with a desperate intensity. It was the only thing keeping Azar-at at bay, but it was weakening. It had its own great, terrible power, but it couldn’t overcome Azar-at’s, or the bond between us, harder than iron. The bond that I had agreed to.

Azar-at gave another growl, and I felt something inside me break, as if the rope I had been clinging to had suddenly snapped. I felt a surge of fear that didn’t come from me, but from the star. There was a flare of light, and then the star was outside me, no longer girl-shaped, a glittering specter that hung in the air.

“No, please,” I said, my voice breaking. “Don’t leave. I can’t fight Azar-at on my own.”

The star flickered frantically. Then it was gone, soaring over the palace. I knew it couldn’t escape—it had failed before. But I could no longer reach its power.

So it was going to end like this. The thought hit me dully, as if from a distance. My terror subsided, replaced by an odd sense of disappointment. I had never thought much about my own death, but if I had, it would have involved some feat of bravery, or foolishness, in some distant wilderness or snow-cloaked mountain pass. I would not have imagined it like this, crouched on the stones of a strange city, facing a creature of smoke and fire.

No use in fighting, Kamzin, Azar-at said, its voice as imperturbable as always. Only its eyes, twin fires in the night, gave away its terrible hunger. Fighting will only bring pain. I do not wish friends to feel pain.

Lusha would live, and that was all that mattered. Lusha was clever and brave, and she deserved this more than I. I gazed at her face, because that was what I wanted to see last, not the fire of Azar-at’s eyes. I hoped she wouldn’t be too angry with me when she woke. I swallowed, forcing the tears back.

You care about friends, Azar-at said, its voice almost a croon. You said you would never hurt them. I understand this. I admire it.

I froze. “I said . . .”

You made me promise. Never let you hurt friends. I kept my promise.

“Yes, you have, haven’t you?” It rose in my mind, a dreamlike thing. The memory of our conversation on the summit of Raksha. It felt like an age ago—another life.

You wished to hurt River. I said: No, Kamzin. Not good. I kept my promise.

“What else did you promise me, Azar-at?” I murmured. My heart thrummed like the wings of a caged bird. “I want to be sure you’ve lived up to your half of the contract.”

Always tell the truth, the fire demon replied. I have never lied, Kamzin.

“No,” I agreed. “But there was something else. Wasn’t there?”

Azar-at was silent. Its tail wagged slower now, its wide, flickering eyes fixed on my face.

“I remember now.” I swallowed—I was filled with a desperate hope, so strong it threatened to overwhelm me. “You promised to leave if I asked. To end the contract.”

Yes, Kamzin, Azar-at murmured. Once I have what you owe, I will leave.