Beaten and scorned,
She will expose the wicked,
For the Dragon of many faces
Knows no boundaries.
And though the wait may be long,
The promise is great,
For the one named Jezelia,
Whose life will be sacrificed
For the hope of saving yours.
And then she was gone.
I wasn’t sure if I was the only one who had heard her, or even seen her, but I stood there dazed, trying to grasp the enormity of what she had said. In an instant, I knew those were the verses ripped from the last page of the book. I braced against the wall, steadying myself with this revelation. Sacrificed. The murmur from the crowds grew louder, but then movement caught my eye and my gaze jumped up to a high wall across the way. Chievdars, governors, and Rahtan were watching me. I drew in a startled breath. Their meeting had adjourned early.
“Miz?”
I turned. Aster stood in the middle of the terrace. The Komizar stood behind her with a knife held to her chest.
“I’m sorry, Miz. I just couldn’t leave you like you told me. I—” He pressed the tip of the knife against her, and she blanched with pain.
“Dear gods, no!” I cried, locking my eyes onto the Komizar’s. I pleaded with him, delicate, desperate, and slow, stepping closer, trying to bring his focus back to me. I held on to him fiercely with my eyes and smiled, trying to somehow dispel this madness. “Please, let her go, sher Komizar. You and I can talk. We can—”
“I told you, without me, there would be no more performances.”
“Then punish me. She has nothing to do with this.”
“You, my little bird? At the moment you’re far too valuable. She, on the other hand…” He shook his head, and before I could even fathom what he was doing, he plunged the knife into her chest.
I screamed and ran toward her, catching her as she slipped from his arms. “Aster!” I fell to the ground with her, cradling her in my lap. “Aster.” I pressed my hands to the wound in her chest, trying to stop the flow of blood.
“Tell my bapa I tried, Miz. Tell him I’m no traitor. Tell him we—”
Her last words lay frozen on her lips, her crystal eyes bright, but her breath still. I pulled her to my chest, rocking her, holding her as if I could defy death. “Aster, stay with me. Stay!” But she was gone.
I heard a small chuckle and looked up. The Komizar wiped his bloody knife on his trouser leg and slipped it back into its sheath. He towered over me, his boots dusted with snow. “She got what she deserved. We have no room in the Sanctum for traitors.”
Numbness washed through me. I looked at him, incredulous. “She was only a child,” I whispered.
He shook his head, clucking. “How many times do I need to tell you, Princess, we don’t have such luxuries. Venda has no children.”
I gently slid Aster from my lap onto the snow and got to my feet. I stepped closer to him, and he looked into my eyes with all the smugness of a victor. “Do we understand each other at last?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “I think we do.” And in the turn of a second, the smugness was gone. His eyes widened in wonder.
“And now,” I said, “Venda has no Komizar either.”
A swift act. One that was easy.
I pulled my knife from his side and plunged it in again, twisting for good measure, feeling the blade cut through his flesh, ready to plunge it in again and again, but he stumbled back several paces, finally comprehending what I had done. He fell against the wall near the portal, staring at the red stain spreading across his shirt. Now he was the one who was incredulous. He drew his knife from its sheath, but he was too weak to step forward, and it spilled from his hand. His sword remained useless at his side. He looked back at me in disbelief and slid to the ground, his face twisted in pain.
I walked closer and stood over him, kicking his knife away. “You were wrong, Komizar. It’s much easier to kill a man than a horse.”