Page 189 of Mother of Death and Dawn

She set the brush down.

* * *

I heard the feast begin—thehorns gave it away, their tinny melody echoing down the hall. I sat politely with my hands folded in my lap until guards arrived and took me by each arm. They led me down immaculate hallways, that music growing louder and louder, until at last we arrived at a banquet hall. Just as they had when I was a slave at Esmaris’s estate, dozens of white-clad bodies turned to me when I entered. I was entertainment, after all—then as the dancer, now as the gruesome, sacrificial gift.

I did not acknowledge the slow confusion roll over Lady Zorokov’s face as she took in my outfit. Not the white of a slaughtering lamb, as she had selected, but bright, bloody red. I kept my face very, very still.

And yet, I could not stop a single, shocked intake of breath when I was brought down the center of the ballroom to be presented to the guest of honor.

I had been prepared for so much.

But I had not been prepared for Nura to be the one sitting beside Lady and Lord Zorokov, smiling back at me.

CHAPTERSEVENTY-ONE

TISAANAH

Iwas led to the center of the room and forced to my knees. Nura rose from her chair at the head table. I had to fight to keep my expression neutral. I hated her more than I had ever hated anyone.

“A gift for you,” Lady Zorokov said. “A gesture of goodwill, celebrating the birth of a beautiful alliance.”

The corner of Nura’s mouth curled. She looked at me the way a cat looked at a songbird.

“If I recall correctly,” she said, “you made some very unpleasant threats not very long ago because we would not send you her head.”

Nura’s Thereni was heavily accented, but still elegant and icy.

Lady Zorokov laughed, while Lord Zorokov merely smirked.

“Forgive us for the harsh words we had for your predecessor,” he said. “I understand that we both have similar attitudes towards our enemies. I’m sure that her head will end up on a stick either way, but our gift to you is the pleasure of being the one to do it.”

“How kind.” Nura walked around the table and leaned down before me, so we were nearly at eye level.

“It’s good to see you,” she said, in Aran. “It’s been awhile.”

“You’re a long way from home,” I said, in Thereni. “We speak my language here.”

Her smirk soured, but when she spoke again, it was in Thereni. “Where is Max?”

I gave her a serene smile, one that made confusion ripple across her face.

“I know that you know where he is,” she said, lower. She struggled now to keep up her facade of cold indifference. All that tension—all that desperation—was so much closer to the surface. Even drugged, my magic fluttered with it.

Something had changed about her, in these last months. As if hour by hour, she had been pushing herself closer to the edge of a cliff, chipping away at her own carefully maintained restraint.

I looked around. This room was not very different from the ballrooms that I used to dance in, night after night, offering myself up for consumption to people who saw me as nothing but an interesting novelty.Look at me, I’d commanded, then, and I’d survived by showing them exactly what they wanted to see.

Now I said,Look at me.

And when I rose from my knees, they did, drawing in gasps of shock. Casually, I walked to the head table.

“Guards!” Lady Zorokov cried.

The guards did not move.

“Guards!” she shrieked again.

I leaned over the table. The Zorokovs had taken inspiration, it seemed, from Lord Farimov’s dinner menu. Every nation that Threll had conquered was represented here. I touched a bowl of Nyzrenese blood apricots, and they turned to rot.

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