Rage. It was rage, she whispered to herself.
She could be scared tomorrow. But right now, all she had was rage.
“If you want her dead so badly,” Anniliese said, her voice quiet and steady, “why don’t you use your magic and do it yourself?”
“You brat!” Ksee’s free hand arched through the air. Her nails—the same ones that had dug into Anniliese’s arm—scratched across her face. This time, Anniliese had to muffle her soft cry.
“I swore off Qhohena’s polluted magic long ago.” Ksee gripped Anniliese’s chin. “But you are a filthy little thing, so willing to throw yourself at anyone we told you to. So willing to do whatever stupid thing we commanded out of petty jealousy or just to save your own skin. You are polluted at your core. Kol knew he could use you for this magic of yours, until the very point you outlived your usefulness.” Her eyes flashed, hints of the flames she buried flickering in their depths.
“Maybe that moment is right now.”
Ksee released her chin. Her hand slid behind her back, her mouth pulling to a wild, mad grin.
This was it.
This would be her end.
Anniliese stifled a sigh. Maybe it was time. She deserved this, after all. The chance to rest, the chance to no longer bear this guilt weighing her down like a pallet of bricks.
Ksee gripped the handle of her ceremonial dagger. A muffled sob broke through the racket of battle.
Anniliese glanced back toward the madness. The sound had come from the girl with curly blonde hair, bound and gagged at the edge of the clearing near their hiding place. One of Mariah’s Ladies, she’d heard Shawth say. A useful prize, even if she failed as leverage.
Tears streaked down the girl’s face as she struggled against her bonds. Just like the broad-shouldered man beside her.
They were defenseless, weaponless, silenced. And still, the two of them fought. Fought to escape their binds, fought to join their queen.
Fought for the idea of a better future. One free of violence and oppression and all this endless, tormented fear.
A memory stirred in Anniliese’s mind: the last time she saw her father, he’d pressed the hilt of a tiny blade into her palm.
None of us are free, Anniliese. Freedom is a myth for people like you and me.
Maybe this myth could be one she made real.
Anniliese didn’t think.
Her body moved on its own accord. Anniliese’s hand slid into the folds of her flimsy robes, finding the delicate blade tucked beneath her underclothes, right along her ribs.
She gripped the smooth handle and slid it free.
There was no hesitation, no pause to her movements, not a single flicker of regret or remorse or guilt. She aimed the dagger where it counted.
Right into the soft flesh of Ksee’s neck. Right where her pulse pounded in her throat.
The priestess’s eyes flew wide. Warmth gushed over Anniliese’s hands, splattering the front of her dirty robes. Deep red coated Ksee’s chest, and for a moment Anniliese thought about how beautiful it was. How much better the red suited her, such an improvement from the gold or the white.
Ksee slumped forward, her knees hitting the ashes of the Ivory Forest. She twitched a few more times as her blood nourished the earth she’d help destroy, until finally she fell still, that small knife still embedded in her throat.
Anniliese watched her for a few long moments. The battle behind her rose and rose, the screeches ofmudaefilling her ears. She waited for the regret, the shame, to come.
When it never did, Anniliese faced the clearing and stepped into the sunlight.
Chapter 88
Andrian’s sword slipped between themudae’sribs. The creature snarled, putrid breath hitting Andrian’s face. It slid to the ground with a wet thump.
But when he killed one, two more took its place.
