Maz. And Ahmed riding on his back.

Maz dove straight for his brother. Noorsham was already raising his other hand toward him. The tips of his wings caught fire. No!

I was on my feet in a second, teetering at the edge of the drop from our mountain perch. Noorsham was in my sights now, and my finger was on the trigger.

The bullet hit him square in the breastplate. Noorsham stumbled back. His head reared up. Even this far away I could see his eyes, spots of blue behind the mask. He saw me.

He raised his hands like he was reaching out to a long-lost friend.

The blow of the heat carried me off my feet.

twenty-eight

Sand was under my back and I was staring at the sky. The same color as my eyes, as Noorsham’s eyes. He’d knocked me clean off the face of the mountain.

It was a twenty-foot drop. I ought to be dead. But I remembered sand surging up to catch me, just as I lost consciousness for a moment.

I dragged myself to my elbows, my whole body protesting. I could see Jin and Shazad craning over above me. Jin moved forward as if to jump off after me, but Ahmed pulled him away from the wall of the canyon as a bullet struck. Ahmed and Maz had landed safely. Why weren’t they running? Why weren’t they flying away? Were the twins too injured?

Another bullet hit near my elbow.

I rolled on instinct. My fingers scrambled for my own gun. I must’ve dropped it when I fell.

Naguib’s small army was moving up the mountain, toward our rabble.

It wouldn’t be a fair fight even without Demdji, but they had Noorsham. I could see him now. It would be a clear shot if I had a gun. But I didn’t.

I shifted my sore fingers. The red sheema was still tied around my right hand like a brace. I unknotted it quickly, wrapping it around my neck. I felt the sand shift around me in response to my every move. I had no idea what I was doing. I’d spent the last sixteen years as the girl with the gun, not a Demdji. I saw what Hala did, creating new worlds in people’s minds. Delila bending reality. Noorsham turning the world to fire.

Like it was second nature.

A gun felt like second nature to me; this didn’t. But this was raw power that was part of me, not something I’d learned. Something ancient in me that tugged toward the sand. My father’s bloodline that stretched back to a time before death.

Across the sands, my eyes met Noorsham’s. He was extending one blazing hand toward my friends. He was going to burn them all alive.

I whipped my hands up, pouring every scrap of my energy and focus through them and into my newfound power. The sand roared up like a wall. It sliced behind Noorsham, cutting between him and the rest of Naguib’s men. Between him and my people.

Exhilaration surged through me. I’d done it. My whole body was shaking. Sweat from the effort was streaking my face. My throat tasted like rising bile. Noorsham was right: I was like him. This was the sort of power that could level cities. That I couldn’t control. That could slip away too easily and take revenge against a whole backward Last County town. That could fill the sea with sand out of spite.

I heaved the sand up higher, splitting Noorsham and me off from the army once and for all. We were on one side and Naguib and the rebels were on the other.

Now it was an even fight.

Noorsham raised his hands, and the ground at my feet blackened. I staggered backward. Beyond the wall of sand I heard a gunshot and a cry. I prayed that bullet had found one of Naguib’s men.

Noorsham turned at the sound. Heat surged off him, striking the churning wall of sand. I flung my arms up, squeezing my eyes shut even as the sand turned to glass, peppering my arms, my scalp, my legs. When I looked up, my arms were bloody.

“Amani.” Noorsham’s voice sounded from deep inside the brass armor. “Why are you fighting me? It’s not you I’m after. It’s them.” He spread his arms expansively, encompassing the Gallan soldiers and the rebellion.

“Them, and an entire city of your own people.”

I had to lead him away from them. I took a staggering step backward, dragging the sandstorm wall with me, forcing Noorsham forward. Drawing him away from the fight. This came down to the two of us.

This was Demdji business. We took care of our own.

I felt searing pain across my leg where a bullet grazed my calf. I screamed as I dropped to my knees.

Just the touch of iron was enough.

My grip on the sand loosened. The storm separating us from the fight fell. I held my breath, trying to control it, but I’d lost it.

I could see the fight now. Rebels against Naguib’s army. Half of Naguib’s men were fighting invisible opponents, ones that existed only in their minds thanks to Hala. The twins shifted from one shape to another, huge leathery beasts to small birds, talons digging into a man’s eyes. Shazad was fighting two men at once, her swords spinning in a blur that turned from steel to red in one motion. Jin and Ahmed were back-to-back, moving in sync as if they had spent their whole lives doing it. And I supposed they had.

They were holding their own. But Noorsham was already turning toward them, ready to level the battlefield. I reached for my power again. The barrel of a gun against my neck drew me up short. The kiss of iron turning me into a human again.

“You will put your hands on your head.” I recognized General Dumas’s heavily accented voice without having to look up.

I did as I was told for once in my life.

It was a matter of moments before I was surrounded by two dozen Gallan soldiers, armed and armored. Ready for battle.

My eyes were fixed on Noorsham. He was standing perfectly still a few paces away. His back was still blessedly turned to the battle raging between his army and my mismatched group of Demdji and rebels. His head was cocked like a curious bird as he watched me with the Gallan.