Page 139 of The Moon's Fury
Kharteen’s pitying gaze only fanned the flames of her apprehension. Jamil’s hand tightened around hers.
“I was assigned to the group sent to track them down, but I already knew—I would never betray Zarian. When we arrived, the others moved in. Your mother and grandfather were with them.”
He dropped his gaze, a muscle working in his jaw.
Barbed tendrils of dread slithered through her veins.
Soraya knew,just knew, he was about to destroy her.
“I’m so sorry, Princess. Your mother was killed,” he said quietly.
Her heart stopped.
Her breath left her in a sudden rush.
No. It couldn’t be.
Kharteen continued. “And your sister—the Daughter overtook her. She killed the Medjai and nearly brought down the palace on our heads.” He lifted his sleeve and showed her the half-healed burns on his arm. “Afterward, she fell into a deep sleep.”
A shrill ringing thundered in her ears.
Kharteen continued speaking, but she didn’t hear him.
“How?” Her voice was hoarse. Kharteen glanced away. “How?” she snapped.
“Her throat was slit. It was painless.”
Her throat was slit.
The words reverberated in her mind, banging against her skull until her temples throbbed. While her heart tripled its beating, her lungs suddenly refused to work, and air became a luxury. She gasped, desperate for breath, but her body wouldn’taccept it. Each inhale was shallow, useless, as if she were trying to breathe through quicksand. A sharp, rising panic coiled around her ribs, tightening a vise around her heart. Her chest constricted, and the world around her blurred, sound fading into a distant—
Jamil pulled her tightly against him, and the gentle, deep rise and fall of his chest coaxed her body to do the same—tobreathe. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs, and exhaled a sob.
Then, another.
And another.
She shook against him as grief wracked her body.
The price for her selfishness had been steep.
Jamil murmured soothing words in her ear, rubbing her back. Kharteen cleared his throat and excused himself.
She cried, maybe for minutes, maybe for hours. Time lost meaning as she clutched Jamil, his presence a steady anchor in her despair.
“I never should have left her,” she sobbed. “She’s dead. She’s dead, she’s dead,deaddeaddeaddeaddead.”
She must have either dozed off or fainted, because in the next moment, the scent of cooking meat filled her nose. With aching eyes, she spotted the rotating skewer over the fire.
She darted to her feet, ignoring Jamil’s protests, and ran into the forest. Twigs and stones scraped her knees as she fell to the cold ground and retched and retched until her stomach was empty.
Her body didn’t seem to understand there was nothing left inside her, because the violent shudders didn’t stop.
Not until Jamil found her and helped her stand, tenderly wiping bile from her face. Wordlessly, he led her back to the campsite where Kharteen was again absent.
He lifted a skein of water to her lips, but she shoved it aside, her unblinking gaze fixed on the fire. Undeterred, he tried again,pressing it toward her. She pushed it away once more, fingers trembling.
She had left her mother in Shahbaad. And now she was dead.
