Page 118 of The Shrouded Queen
I felt stupid, so painfully fucking stupid, to have missed it before. That gleam in his eye that was just a bit too bright, the insistence on my goodness, which I was a real fool to have ever believed. It wasn’t true. None of it was true.
Jasim was a zealot. I’d known it in Khada Palace. Somehow, I’d forgotten it out here.
Of course Jasim didn’t love me. Like Zaid had said, there was nothing aboutmeworth loving. But there were plenty of excuses to be made for the oh-so-holy Gods-Chosen.
Pain fractured my heart and spiraled through my limbs. This must be what it felt like when the insipid little organ broke.
“What do you mean?” Jasim whispered.
The laugh trapped in my chest grew hotter, grew teeth, transformed into a scream. My neck prickled with the need to itch, and the power just out of my reach roiled as if it, too, was frustrated. “Candles didn’t work. I needed to make a sizeable sacrifice when we got to the Temple of Shaya.Youwere going to be my sacrifice, Jasim. I kissed you and fucked you and planned to slit your throat the whole time.”
He stared at me, lips parted in shock. He shook his head.
“Go on, tell me I’m a good person. Tell me that was a fucking mistake.” At his silence, I continued mercilessly, wanting to feel every bit of the pain reverberating through my chest, “I’m the spawn of Shaya. I am not a good person. I am not a hero. Maybe that makes me the villain—or maybe it makes me nothing at all. All I know is that there is one creature in this whole fucking world I love, and it is not you. It will never be you. I will pick Shaya every time. The girl you’ve convinced yourself I am doesn’t exist. When will that finally sink in?”
The brutal words were directed as much at me as at Jasim. I was so fucking furious with myself. That fragile, misplaced hope shattered into a million pieces and scored my insides on the way down.
His usually expressive brown eyes shuttered. He took each blow with the stoicism bred into him from decades in the Khada Guard. A muscle beneath his beard popped over and over. Jasim’s voice was low when he finally said, “I think it just did.”
His shoulder brushed mine as he moved past me. He didn’t glance back as he trudged into the forest. The fog and trees swallowed him up.
I stared after him, breathing hard. I’d finally done it. I’d finally broken through.
So why did my chest ache like a picked scab? And why did I feel so hollow? Why did I feel so… sad?
I waited a few moments, but he didn’t come back. I’d pushed him beyond his promise until he’d finally left. Just like he was supposed to. Just like I knew he would—just like anyone would—if I weren’t the divine Gods-Chosen anymore.
When a breeze blew through, it sounded an awful lot like King Zaid’s mocking laugh.
FORTY-SEVENSAMIRA
I clutched Sillia’s axe to my thundering chest as I followed the Seven to the clearing among the trees, the same place Hedin’s funeral had been held a couple of weeks ago—though it felt like another lifetime.
Dalla and Cano stabbed two torches into the ground as Keir tossed aside his fur cloak. He spun his axe expertly, and it whistled as it cut through the air.
I spoke through dry lips. “I never claimed to be a warrior. And this isn’t a khopesh—”
“An axe is an axe, Majesty.” Keir stretched his neck, his braid swinging at his back. “First blood wins.”
I blanched, even as Velka shouted, “No!”
“We swore not to harm her.” Sillia patted her chest. “First contact. No blood, Keir.”
“Fine.” He grinned at me. A predator toying with its food. “Ready, Majesty?”
“Why are you doing this?” I whispered for his ears only.
“Because I was a fool, and now I’m fixing my mistake.”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t know how to use that.” He nodded to the axe I was strangling against my chest. “Admit it.”
I couldn’t. Not without making this whole month worthless. I racked my brain for something else to say to stop this. I should voice outrage, question how they could treat the Gods-Chosen this way. I should threaten to tell Rade of their insubordination, threaten them with punishment after I was made their queen.
But when I opened my mouth, the words died on my tongue, gagged by my terror.
Velka turned to Sillia. “I am Third, and I demand you stop this.”
