Mayra’s eyes narrowed. As a matter of fact, she hadn’t heard that cold, foreign voice since she’d found herself in the courtyard. Perhaps it was because Sanri had no need for the voice when she was projecting an entire world for Mayra’s benefit.
“Ooh,” Mayra chirped. “Aren’t you clever? Convincing me that everyone was against me? Telling me the only way out was death.”
“And it still is,” Demaylia said with a feral grin.
“Maybe the only way out isyourdeath,” Mayra said, charging forward. She surprised the princess, who’d expected her to remain cowed, to remain docile, a slave to the illusion that wrapped her in its tawdry threads. Her hands circled the girl’s neck and tightened with all of her strength.
“Mayra, stop it,” Demaylia choked, her paws beating ineffectually against Mayra’s grip.
“You stop it, Sanri.”
“Never,” the princess snarled, and Mayra noticed then that her eyes were green. The same green as the slutty hitchhiker’s.
Mayra squeezed harder, harder, until the woman beneath her was gasping and clawing at her. None of the guards, not even her father rushed to help her. The world was frozen around her, Sanri too distracted to continue the illusion while the breath was being choked out of her body.
She went limp and Mayra dropped her, surprised to see not grass beneath her but the ship’s bland floor. She looked up and saw Nojan at the controls, his eyes wide with surprise.
“We’re back,” he said, a smile creeping slowly across his face. “We did it.”
Mayra beamed back at him. “Yes, we—”
Suddenly, Sanri struck out at her, her motion fast as lightning. Mayra tried to dodge but was too slow. She did move enough for the knife to miss its intended target. What Sanri had tried to use to slit her throat had only caught the edge of her jaw instead.
Mayra knocked the knife from the woman’s hand and then drew back without thinking, punching her in the face with all the power she had in her. This time, Sanri wasn’t faking. She was knocked out cold.
