"Here. Sleeping." She gestures to her perfectly made bed, not a wrinkle in the furs. "As any sensible person would be at such an ungodly hour."
I study the bed, the pristine chamber, the way her armor hangs exactly where it always does. Too perfect. Too clean. Like a stage set waiting for an audience.
"Strange." I pick up a leather gauntlet from her armor stand, turning it over in my hands. "This leather's still damp. From morning dew, perhaps?"
Zharra's fingers falter in her braid. Just for an instant, but I catch it.
"I cleaned my gear yesterday evening. It hasn't had time to fully dry."
"In winter? In a heated chamber?" I set the gauntlet down with deliberate care.
"I've never—" She stops herself, but too late. The words hang in the air like an admission.
"Never what?" I lean forward, placing my hands on either side of her chair, trapping her between my arms and the mirror. "Never been caught?"
Her reflection stares back at me, composure finally cracking around the edges. "I don't know what you think you're proving."
"You know where she is." The words are matter-of-fact, low and dangerous.
Zharra's reflection meets my eyes in the bronze mirror, her chin lifting with practiced defiance. "I already told you?—"
"Don't." I straighten, the chair scraping against stone as I take a step forward. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be."
She turns to face me, smoothing her hands down her ceremonial leathers with deliberate calm. "You're losing your mind over a human. A pregnant one, at that. Do you hear yourself?"
"Where. Is. She."
"I have no idea what's happened to your little pet." The words roll off her tongue like honey laced with poison. "Perhaps she finally realized what a fool's game this was. Perhaps she?—"
I move faster than thought, my hands closing around her shoulders and slamming her back against the stone wall. Her head cracks against the carved surface, and for a moment her mask of composure slips entirely.
"You think this is strength?" The rage in my voice makes the braziers flicker. "Killing a helpless woman?"
Zharra's eyes flash, her carefully controlled facade cracking like ice under pressure. "Helpless? She was destroying everything!" The words tear from her throat, raw and bitter. "You were mine, Vargath. Promised to me since we were children. My future, my status, my?—"
"You were never anything to me."
The words hit her like a physical blow. Her face goes white, then red, her hands clawing at my forearms where I hold her pinned.
"I was everything!" she snarls, spittle flying from her lips. "I was your equal, your match, your?—"
"You were a contract." I lean closer, letting her see the truth in my eyes. "A political arrangement I never wanted."
Her laugh comes out broken, jagged. "And what is she? What could a human possibly give you that I couldn't?"
"Peace." The answer surprises me with its simplicity. "She gave me peace."
Zharra's face twists with something ugly and desperate. "Peace? With a creature who'll die in childbirth? Who'll never understand our ways, our strength?" Her voice becomes a venomous whisper. "She was ruining everything. Everything we built, everything we could have been."
"You are nothing to me," I spit out. "Nothing."
"And now neither is she." The words slip out like a blade between ribs.
Turning, I stride out of that room, away from that woman. If she's harmed my Seris or my child… I will make good on my words.
She will be nothing.
24
