“Come with me.”

As the sun finished setting, Andiya took me through the winding palace of El-By-Sea, a wicked grin on her face. We ducked into a lavish, brightly-tiled room filled with pillows, dim lanterns, and smoking pipes, empty but for one daemon man with cornflower blue skin who lounged with a goblet of wine. He reminded me of Artem: black curls, twisting black horns, and almost innocent-looking doe eyes. But he was dressed far more daring than any bonded daemon ever would, bare-chested with a swath of lapis silk around his waist, multitudes of thin gold chains wrapped around his neck, torso, and upper thighs. Glittering makeup dusted his eyes and cheekbones, scintillating as he turned to us. His lion-like tail curled up in interest.

“Verahai will surely burst a vein,” he said to Andiya, his voice a velvet purr. “You really love to get under his skin, don’t you?”

Andiya simply handed him a lock of her hair, as I’d seen her give the owner of the Inn at the Edge of the World. He took it with a grin as wicked as Andiya’s.

“Sit down, darling,” he said to me, and a calm came over me, his voice as soothing as a lullaby. I took a place on a pile of pillows. His hand came to rest on my cheek, his nails painted like opals.

“Remember, Lyr, subtle,” said Andiya. “Not like that job you did on me for the Winter Fete.”

“You wound me,” he replied. “You were stunning. I do not apologise for pageantry.”

“You gave me wings. Three sets. I couldn’t sit for days.”

Lyr simply turned away, locking eyes with mine. More opal swirled in his irises, entrancing me. My skin felt warm all over, like I suddenly sat before a fire. Warmer. Warmer still, as though the flames curled just inches away from my skin, but there was no pain. Then, as soon as he’d started, Lyr pulled away.

“It should fade by morning,” said Lyr. “Go. Enjoy the night. Turn some heads.”

“And you swear you won’t say anything?” said Andiya.

Lyr chuckled. “I am simply going to bed. If anyone asks me if I glamoured a human on my way, I shall not lie. But I do doubt that anyone would ask such a strange thing.”

With a wink, Lyr took his leave. I watched him go, his walk as smooth as water. If Andiya was a being of fire, he was surely one of seduction.

“Let’s go,” Andiya said, and took my hand. “And keep your mouth shut.”

Keeping to the shadows, and walking at a calm pace that would not draw glances, Andiya wound me through the halls and out of the palace gate. As soon as we hit the edge of the jungle, Andiya exhaled in relief.

“All right. No one seems to have followed us.”

We took a path by the river, splitting away from it only briefly to wind around small crags and veins of silvery stone. I began to sweat, the humid jungle air sticking to my skin.

“Why did you give your hair to Lyr?” I asked. “I saw you do it back at the Inn, too.”

“Ah.” Andiya held out her hand to help me over a fallen log. “It’s an old daemon tradition that signifies the owing of a favour. When we came to the Inn, I had no money to pay for our room. And money means very little to Lyr, who has more than he would ever know how to spend. But a favour can be worth far more, if they use it properly.”

“Can you refuse, if they demand something unreasonable?”

“I … can, I suppose. But it’s extremely bad form. I have known some hot-tempered daemons to call blood feuds over it. Don’t worry about Lyr, though. He’ll likely use it in some silly way, like having me get him out of a boring party. His greatest enemy.”

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The trees ended, and we came to a handsome stone bridge. It spanned a narrow part of the river, and just beyond it, the city of Ir Ihaba waited.

“I don’t know what tomorrow brings,” said Andiya, and took my hand to lead me over the water. “War, fury, or divine retribution. But we have tonight—our last, before everything changes. One bright light as the world catches fire.”

She kissed me once, gently, teasing me forward. And so entranced, I stepped into the city of daemons with Andiya’s hand in mine.

In the dark, Ir Ihaba was a mass of colour.

Lanterns and torches brightened the streets, pale blue or bright orange or an ethereal pink, fuelled simply by magic as their flames hung in the hair. Daemons of all sorts went about their business, surrounding me with horns, scales, reptilian eyes, outlandish fashions, and the strangeness of it, once again, not being so strange. Parents carried baskets of fruit home, children pulling at their sleeves. Street performers plucked at tall, thin guitars as passers-by tossed coins in a hat. Butchers sold cuts of meat, blueish steaks or black-feathered chickens or fish with golden scales. A child chased their six-eyed dog down the street. Ir Ihaba was all life, every facet of it.

“How did we ever get it so wrong?” I said breathlessly. “How could I have gone my entire life without knowing?”

“Our people have spent centuries at odds. Who knows when it began?”

I glanced back at the palace, hidden somewhere through the jungle. Queen Xanthe. She would know.

We took a side street, and I began to hear the tell-tale heartbeat of drums. Andiya’s pace picked up eagerly. We passed by a shop, and I stopped dead in my tracks.

“Rozin, don’t you hear it, let’s go—“

But I was staring at myself in the shop’s reflection. I suddenly understood why no one in Ir Ihaba had given me so much as a passing glance.

Lyr had made me a daemon.

My skin was tinged red, a subtler mirror of Andiya’s hair. From my head curved two black horns, their tips capped with gold. When I turned my head, subtle shimmers of sigils shone on my face, lining my brow, cheekbones, and travelling down my neck. Even my eyes were made to match—rather than their usual brown, my now black irises swirled with a slight burn, like fresh coals.

“It’s a glamour,” Andiya said from my side. “Temporary, to hide you for the night. When you wake up in the morning, you’ll be yourself again.”

“He made us into a pair. I look like something of fire, as you are.”

“At my request.”

“Would you rather I was like this? Like you?”

Andiya sighed. “I’d rather go and dance. With whatever you I can have. Not everything has to carry such weight, Rozin. Sometimes you can allow yourself to be happy, to enjoy the small moments. We can discuss this newest existential crisis later.”

She was right. I took her hand again, and I let her take me around the corner: suddenly, the streets widened, and we were in an open square glittering with a rainbow of lanterns and torches. Hundreds of daemon pairs danced within the inner ring, hopping, clapping, and twirling with flares of bright skirts and the glints of jewellery—not gold and gems, like the wealthy of the palace, but copper and steel. There was an electricity to the air that enchanted me. The dancing was joy, in its purest form.

“Sadakh ala Sahl,” said Andiya. “A dance until sunrise.” She faced me, placing my hands upon her collar. “Remove it. Only for a few hours—the queens will never need to know.”

Though I hesitated for just a second, I could never deny Andiya anything. I released the golden clasp, and sighed in pleasure as Andiya’s magic returned in a warm wave. Her lips split in a bright smile. She clipped the collar onto the belt of her dress, and pulled me into the twirling bodies.

I felt Andiya’s magic rise, swirling around us both. As she turned, streaks of flame poured from her fingers, lingering in the air like trails of brightness. She spun tightly, and the flames formed a swirl of patterns, burning themselves into my eyes. Cheering and laughter erupted from the dancers. They began to clap in unison, forming a thunderous beat.

Andiya stepped to it. Her jewels glittered against the torches; her hair shone like a river of rubies. With every step, Andiya was a writhing, rolling flame. I stopped breathing. As the music sped up, the beat matched it, and Andiya became something ethereal, impossible to match—the crowd seemed to vanish but for her, a wild, untameable thing that moved in a flare of skirts, silken hair, and streaks of light. She moved through the expanding open ring, taking all eyes with her.

And then she spun to me, gripping my hands in hers. “Do not think. Dance.”

Easy orders to follow. I could not brood on who I was, what was coming for us in the morning. Andiya was all there was.

And we danced, and danced, and I found myself smiling, laughing, giggling—weightless in a way I had not been in many years. And I had a fleeting, ridiculous thought: let the world burn, for I had no need for it. All I needed was her.