The smoothness of his words and the disdain in his backhanded compliments reminded me of Vishwajeet. I gripped the hilt of my hidden dagger even tighter, so its carvings imprinted on my palms.
“An excellent point.” I snarled the kind of smile that would have made Ektha blanch. “My best conclusion”?—I mimicked his inflection?—“is that Ullal will not pay tithes.”
Kamran laughed, but it wasn’t the condescending snort I’d become used to from Vishwajeet. No, this was a true laugh, as though I’d cracked some incredible joke, even though there was no humor in this situation.
“You cannot be serious,” he said. “I was told that there were some brains behind that beautiful face of yours and that you, unlike your uncle, could be reasoned with.”
Hearing him call me beautiful made me want to scratch my face off. And how dare he even reference Uncle Trimulya, let alone insult him.
“I am serious.”
I let the words hang between us, and the arrogant smile slid off his face. What was left was a far less charming sneer, but at least it was honest.
“Don’t be a fool,” Kamran said. “The Porcugi are far stronger and more numerous than you can imagine. The only reason your little kingdom hasn’t been decimated after your uncle’s antics is because of their mercy. They aren’t offering you a compromise; it’s a kindness.”
I stood up, rather clumsily given the size of my bump and my focus on keeping my dagger hidden. Kamran tried to offer me a helping hand, but I swatted it away, leaving fury etched on his face.
“It would seem you can’t hear me very well while I’m sitting,” I said. “So I will say this one more time, but I will not repeat myself again. Ullal will pay no tithes.”
Kamran’s temple twitched as he glared at me. “Then I hope you’re ready for your nightmares to chase you in your days. Once I tell them of your refusal, they will make you?—and all your people?—pay a price you could never imagine. And when your people cry themselves hoarse in pain, it is your name they’ll be cursing. You will?—”
My dagger was at his throat before he could finish his sentence. He backed away, but I followed, ignoring the clenching pain that lit my back on fire as I followed his steps. Eventually, Kamran ran out of space, and his heels banged against the wall behind him. I stopped just in time to prevent the dagger from cutting his flesh.
“Think carefully about what you do next.” He stayed remarkably calm given that a dagger was at his throat. “You’ve done more than enough harm to yourself and your nation already. The Porcugi will be incensed if you refuse them the tithe they were promised by your husband. Injuring their messenger will only infuriate them further.”
My back spasmed, but I stayed standing and didn’t show it on my face as I held my breath. The pain released, and I finally exhaled as I lowered the dagger. Kamran assumed his words had shaken me.
“We can still fix this,” he said gently, trying to coax me. “If you agree to pay the tithe, I won’t tell them about the dagger. Save yourself, save Ullal, and pay the tithe.”
I stepped back and considered what he said. Kamran was right?—I’d drawn a weapon on a peaceful messenger. It was unforgivable, and the Porcugi would certainly seek revenge the moment he told them, unless he covered up my mistake. Thanks to my temper, he now had leverage over me.
But I could never pay the tithes. Chills ran up my back as I realized the only solution: Kamran couldn’t go back.
“I’m running out of patience, Rani,” Kamran said. “Agree quickly and save your people. For Ullal’s sake, you must agree.”
For Ullal.
Before he could react, I closed the distance between us and drove my dagger into his chest.
He stared in surprise as he wrapped his hands around the hilt and opened his mouth like a fish stranded on land. His tunic became plastered to him as blood spurted and ran down his body, creating a line that pointed from his heart to the ground.
Time froze, and it was as if I could see his tether to the Spirits. His thread of life was stretched thin?—each fiber strained to its limits and fighting its inevitable fraying?—until it snapped, and he crumpled to the ground in front of me.
My turmeric sari was splattered in his blood, marking me as his killer from head to toe. Its warmth gave me chills, and the world went silent as I stared at the man who was once Kamran.
Chapter 43
Every breath felt heavy?—as if the air itself had remembered its strength, and it pushed down on my chest. Kamran’s saltwater scent still clung to my nose; I inhaled it with every breath. It made my mouth dry and parched, but when I licked my lips, they tasted of iron.
His blood.
I spat as I fell to the ground on all fours. My head hung over my red?—they were so red?—hands, and my arms began to shake. I crawled to the water to wash off the stains. Blood slipped off my fingers in red threads that eventually disappeared into nothing. Leaning back onto my heels, I held my freshly washed hands up into the sunlight. I could still feel the warm stickiness on my arms and sari, and the bobbing white lotuses were freckled in blood.
Nothing was clean.
I tried to stand, to leave, but a spasming pain made my back muscles clench, and I fell to the ground with a cry.
The door to the stepwell slammed open. Nikith stood there, looking first at me and then staring at Kamran’s body in disbelief. “What have you done?”
