“And then I…um… I killed him.”
She exhales. “I’m sure you didn’t have a choice.”
Did I? I guess I could’ve let him take what he wanted and then butcher me instead. I would’ve gone to the Ten Hells with a clean soul and spent my three years in Elysia. But I hadn’t meant to murder him. I just wanted him to stop touching me. In my nightmares, he watches me sleep. Sometimes the sewing scissors aren’t on my bedside table. Sometimes they are, but I miss his neck. I’ve relived a hundred different versions of the same horrific night. Same beginning of him waking me and pulling down his trousers.
I shudder and stare at the fire, remembering the flames of his villa rising into the night sky. All I wanted was for people to think I was dead and to be unsure of how he died. That’s all I was thinking when I broke the oil lamp under the bed, but I learned that three servants died in the blaze. I think about them all the time—how they did nothing wrong but died all the same.
I killed four people that night, and I will be judged by Lord Yama for all of them.
“After he was dead, I was on my own,” I say. “I knew I wouldn’t have been believed. I knew I couldn’t go home.”
“You did what you had to in order to survive,” she says softly.
I look away, the heaviness in my chest nearly unbearable. She understands, and I’m not certain whether that makes it better or worse. I’m not even sure why I told Sora all of that. I’ve never told anyone.
Still, I don’t mention the amulet I found on his wrist. Prince Omin wasn’t even supposed to have the Sands of Time of the Dragon Lord, but somehow, he did. And now, I do.
I didn’t know what it was when I took the relic from his body. I just saw a gem and stole it. I had to figure out on my own that it stopped time. The price I paid was aging four years in the minutes it took to clean his blood off me. The curse of the amulet was the reason I couldn’t see my mother again. I couldn’t explain suddenly looking sixteen when I was only twelve. I thought I would see her again one day when I was older and the age difference wouldn’t matter, but she died last year. I was too late. My only family was gone.
“You aren’t your bloodline,” Sora says, stepping closer.
I sniffle. “I know.”
But Iama killer. Unlike my family, though, I’ve suffered consequences. I paid for the murders with loneliness, with never seeing Mama again, with constantly worrying that someone might find out that I killed Omin, with staying awake wondering if I’d die of old age clutching the amulet while I dreamed, with no one caring if I lived.
All of it hits me—all of the things I don’t think about.
I died, and no one mourned me.
Tears stream down my cheeks, and I can’t stop them.
“It wasn’t your fault.” Sora takes another step.
“Sora.” I put my hands up to defend myself. Not because she’s hurting me but because she’s getting close to me. And no one, other than Royo, has been close to me. And now he hates me. He hates to even look at me because I can only hurt or abandon the few people who love me. I am doomed to live this life alone.
“You were a child trying to survive,” she says. “And you are not your family.”
She opens her arms, and I lean on her shoulder and cry. A really ugly, gasping cry while she strokes my hair and lets me ruin her dress.
As I cling to her, I get it. I would do anything to keep this feeling of being cared for. And Sora feels a hundred times stronger than this for her sister. She will do anything for Daysum, even if it means sacrificing everything and everyone else she loves.
Which makes her the most dangerous killer in the world.
Chapter Nine
Royo
City of Quu, Khitan
Aeri just ran out of the room. I can’t be sure, but I think it was because of what Mikail said. About the dead prince who was touching and killing kids. And wasn’t that the same guy who King Joon thought had killed her? Would that mean…
“You don’t need that,” Mikail says.
I look down to where he’s pointing. My fist is curled around a steak knife. I drop the blade on the table, and it lands with a clang. I just told myself I wouldn’t care about Aeri. I have to keep my word for more than a minute when it comes to her.
“How are the girls gonna get in to see the general?” I ask, needing a new topic.
“General Vikal used to see petitioners at dawn each day in Trialga Square,” Mikail says. “I’m not certain that she still does. After I meet with the ambassador, I’ll know more.”
