Page 82 of The King's Queen

“Kya!” Her voice is filled with pure undiluted terror as she sprints to the Vari woman’s side. In an instant, she spins towards where I stand shaking in the corner. “What did you do?”

Any trace of understanding in the woman’s face is gone, leaving only lingering hurt and burning rage. Something tells me that even if we were surrounded by enemies and this was the outcome, Amír’s furious gaze would still find mine.

Her voice is venomous as she cradles the sobbing Kya to her chest, and Rowan looks my way in questioning. My knees begin to buckle. He didn’t think that I tried to hurt her?

“Ver, what happened?”

When I find no answer, I take a step forward then stumble. Kya’s usually amber eyes are a pure white and still streaming blood. Rowan spins on me, repeating himself with a biting tone.

“I-I don’t know. We were just sparring, and then… I lost control.”

“That light. That was you?” The assassin whirls towards the sound of my voice. “You were light.”

Her voice contains more hurt and wonder than it does anger. Fear is triumphant over every other tone she displays, and the gunslinger at her side snarls. Every broken piece of my heart shatters beyond repair within my chest. I did this.

Just like how I pushed Blaine to his death. How I’ve broken Torin’s smile and shoved Tanja into the dark. I have killed everything good in my life.

This gift is no Blessing. The gods were wrong. It is a curse.

Amír faces both Rowan and me as she seethes, “Would anyone care to enlighten us?”

The irony of her statement is not lost on me.

Rowan runs his hand through his hair, his usually handsome face contorted with barely concealed anger and confusion. I have dug him a hole that he doesn’t know how to get out of, which, obviously, is a first for both of us. He looks over his shoulder towards me, tossing a look that saysdo you want to tell them or should I?

Please.

He dips his chin in understanding. He never pushes, never asks for more than I am willing to give. I don’t dare to open my mouth right now, lest I choke on my own lies. It is the cowards way out, I know.

Vera the coward, always running away.

Rowan’s brows pinch together, and his shoulders square as he tells them everything. Periodically, he looks back making sure he isn’t telling more than I am comfortable with. He makes a clear distinction standing between us. If things go south, it is me he will protect.

With every word, Amír’s piercing glare narrows until it seems sharp enough to puncture through my skull. The anger that she radiates heats the room. Kya and Rowan may interpret her fury as only on Kya’s behalf, but the truth settles heavily in my bones.

The gunslinger raises a brow in challenge.More secrets, princess?

I can’t begin to fathom the depths of the apology that they deserve. I press my lips into a hard line and let Rowan speak.

She loves her, she’s acting this way because she loves her, I have to remind myself. But that is not the only reason. Amír functions based on a single principle: truth. Meanwhile, I’ve been using truth as a tool, something malleable to suit my interests as of late. I can’t fault her for hating me for it, not when it is something I hate about myself too.

Silence. It takes a moment for me to realize that Rowan has stopped talking and all eyes are now on me. Even Kya’s milky ones seem to have focused in my direction, as if sensing where I am. I wouldn’t be surprised if she does have some sixth sense like this. She’s a woman of many skills and secrets.

“You’ve been lying to us.” It is Kya who speaks first, her voice small. Amír brushes the drying blood from her face, the silver smearing in stark contrast across her dark skin.

“I haven’t,” I plead, resisting the urge to fall to my knees. “I’m still me.”

“You didn’t tell us. You kept a secret. That’s the same thing.” Her voice cracks, and her face twists into disgust. The sight burns through my skin, and those broken pieces of my heart harden to form a wall.

“You’re one to talk about secrets. Hypocritical when you think about how I know nothing about you.”

“Trust is earned. You haven’t earned shit,” Amír hisses through clenched teeth. Good, let them hate me. Hate is better than pity or disgust.

“Haven’t I? You haven’t given me a chance to prove myself to be anything more than a burden. I saved your life, I bled for you. I’ve risked everything to be here. But no, nothing I do is good enough for any of you.”

Shut up, I mentally plead. You’re going to ruin everything, just shut up.

Amír’s eyes form slits, and she opens her mouth, presumably to tell everyone what a fraud I am. Go ahead then, ruin me.

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