She smiled when she found it. The sword gleamed in the low lamplight. Its handle was wrapped in fine leather, and the bronze blade was burnished to a sheen. It was hers. Hers alone. Rashon had traded for it, shown it to others, but he’d never spilled blood with it.

“Saraal,” she whispered, giving her sword the dead girl’s name.

She slipped out of the tent in the early evening light. The moon had not risen, and the black sky conspired with her to block out the stars. No one saw her when she moved to the next tent.

The warrior was feeding from a human when he saw her. His fangs were down and his body hard. The girl had stopped struggling, but the bruises on her body showed Aday how she’d been used.

He sat up, but Aday had already moved. Flipping in the air, over his head, to land on his back. The blade swept out, slicing easily through the thick cords of the Sida’s neck, cutting it cleanly before he could make a sound.

It was a good sword.

Aday sat with the body between her legs, staring into the dead eyes of the woman. Her lips were split open. Her eyes were black. She tipped back her chin, baring her throat to Aday.

Enough.

She brought the blade to the woman’s throat and gave her a quick death, then she moved to the next tent.

She killed a younger Sida next, one of Temur’s newest children. Then an older one, who she’d seen eying Saraal with lust. He’d wanted her. And Aday knew it was only a matter of time before Temur would start passing the girl through the camp.

By the time she’d killed five warriors, the bodies were beginning to be found. She could hear cries of surprise and anger. Somewhere in the distance, Temur yelled out for the girl.

She’s gone, Aday thought as another warrior’s blood dripped cool down her breast. There is only me now.

“Saraal!” he yelled. “Come here now!”

Aday stepped out of the tent and saw torches coming toward her. She flew straight up, avoiding the fire, before sweeping down and grabbing a burning stick from one of the humans who guarded the warriors during the day. He gasped when he saw her and fell to his knees. She flew over the camp, touching the flame to the tents as she passed.

Like a row of dead trees, the tents went up in flames, and she smiled when she heard the cries of the warriors inside as they met their end.

A few had taken to the air to look for Saraal, but the girl couldn’t fly, so they were looking down. Aday could, so she snuck up behind them, the wind holding her aloft as she overpowered the flying Sida and took their heads.

One.

Two.

Three.

She laughed at how easy it was, in the end. They were finished. All but a few of Temur’s warriors were dead. A couple had fled into the trees with the humans. Most were burning in their tents. Aday took a deep breath and reveled in the smell of death around her.

She was almost finished.

She saw Temur heading toward her, so she dropped to the ground out of respect for the girl, who had cared for him in her own way. Aday watched the Sida as he landed across from her, his camp burning in the background, humans and animals still running for their lives as the air filled with smoke.

“Why?” he yelled, bloody tears running down his face. “What have you done, Saraal?” His hair was singed and his clothes black.

“You killed her.”

Aday began to walk toward him. She could hear the girl somewhere, whimpering in protest.

“What are you talking about? You killed my sons! Their sons. When I would not let them touch you.” He screamed into the night, “They feared your madness and I trusted you!”

Aday shook her head. “You shouldn’t have.”

Temur’s face melted in rage, and he flew toward her, his sword held out. Aday met him in the air, embracing him and kneeing him in the gut at the same time. She was stronger than Temur. The girl didn’t know it, but she did. She’d known for some time. He folded over in the air, and when she put the knife to his neck, she felt surrender wash through him.

His children were dead.

His camp in flames.

“I trusted you,” he said quietly, the wind muffling his words.

“No, you didn’t,” Aday said, pressing her cheek to his as she held the knife to the back of his neck. “Not really, Temur. You killed her last night. You didn’t even know.”

“Finish it, tseetsa,” he murmured, dropping his sword as she flew them higher and higher. He put his arms around her, and held on. “Fly me to the stars and finish it.”

Aday heard the girl screaming as she pressed the blade to Temur’s neck and cut. She would give the girl that. Temur would die quickly. His eyes closed as the curved blade caught his neck. With one pull, his head was gone. She held his body, dripping blood onto her chest as she flew to the clearing where he had forced the girl to give up her blood. She landed there and set Temur’s body down, stretching across it as his blood flowed into the earth where the girl was buried.

She lay there, wrapping his arms around her back to see if she could feel what the girl had felt for him, but there was nothing. No energy. No comfort. She wondered if there ever had been, or if the girl’s feelings were an illusion.

The moon rose over Aday as she held Temur’s corpse and the stars watched. Then she felt herself leave her body again, absorbing the black night. She surrendered to the space inside, letting the darkness fill her. Claim her.

And when the sun rose, Aday smelled Temur burning over her from her hollow in the earth.

Epilogue: The Heir

She left the plains and flew far, taking shelter in the mountains. She felt the sun rise and set from beneath the earth. Seasons passed; her hair grew long again. And when the frost came, she left the cave where she had sheltered and drifted among the humans, feeding on more than the birds and small creatures that populated the dark. The bronze blade never left her side.