Seven years ago, she set fire to a temple full of people. Half of them children. Not a single one of them escaped.
“You did this,” Safire realized aloud, drawing her stolen dagger. Eris spun. Seeing the blade, she drew back. But the rope was still tied to Safire’s belt. She was still a prisoner. “The temple Kor spoke of... it was this place.” Safire shook her head at the monstrosity of it, imagining the ones locked inside these walls as they burned. Imagining their panic and fear. “Thisis why the Lumina are hunting you. Because you’re a monster.”
Filled with loathing, Safire backed the Death Dancer up against the wall, keeping the blade pointed at her chest.
“That’s right,” Eris said bitterly, her back hitting the charred red-clay bricks. “Why not finish the job you prevented Kor from doing? It’s what the empress will do as soon as you hand me in anyway. This way, you can save yourself the misery of my company.”
Safire heard the resignation in her voice as she said it. As if she truly wanted Safire to plunge the knife in. To end it all.
But a remorseful murderer was still a murderer. This one had killed innocents. Eris wouldn’t hesitate to hunt down Asha inexchange for her freedom—especially now that she knew how close the Namsara really was. Right here on these islands.
Eris stared Safire down, a challenge in her eyes. “Go on,” she said, pushing back, forcing the steel of Safire’s blade to pierce her skin. “Get it over with, princess.”
Safire’s grip tightened around the dagger. But this crime hadn’t been committed against her. Safire wasn’t going to take Eris’s life. She would deliver her to the empress and let the laws of the Star Isles deal with her.
Seeing her hesitation, Eris whispered, “What happened to the girl who puts knives through the hearts of her enemies?”
Safire narrowed her eyes.
Jarek.She never should have said his name aloud. Not in front of Eris. But it was too late. And Eris’s question—the thought of him—threw Safire back to the night of the revolt: the king was dead; Dax had won; Jarek stood surrounded by their rebel army.
Safire had waited her whole life for that moment: to see her tormentor brought to his knees. But Jarek wouldn’t kneel. At the very end, he was still standing, still fighting, refusing to bend to the new order.
Safire had never hated him more than in that moment. Hated his defiance and loyalty. Hated it because, just for a moment, it made her understand him.
It made her see herself in him.
So, yes. She put a knife through his heart.
She thought her hatred would go with him. That his death would soothe the ache of a lifetime of loathing. But it didn’t.
As Safire stood over Jarek’s corpse that night, with the killing blade in her hand, her hate remained swollen inside her. She felt sick with it.
“Safire?”
The voice chased the memory away. Immediately, she was back in that ruined room, and though it washerpressing a stolen dagger to Eris’s collarbone, she was the one who felt unexpectedly defenseless.
It happened sometimes, when she was alone on her rounds. Or awake in her bed. Or even standing watch over the king in a busy assembly. Suddenly, irrationally, this feeling would come over her: a craving to be held. For someone to tell her it was going to be all right.
Thatshewas going to be all right.
It shamed her, that feeling. Becauseof courseshe was perfectly fine. Safire didn’t need someone to take care of her. She took care of herself.
“I’m sorry,” Eris said suddenly. “For whatever he did to you.”
Safire abruptly became aware of just how close they were standing. Close enough to feel the warmth of Eris against her. Close enough to smell the scent on her skin—like thunder and lightning.
And then, from behind them, someone cleared his throat.
Safire went rigid. Eris glanced up, over her shoulder.
“Am I interrupting something?” came a deep, familiar voice. A voice Safire would know anywhere. Her heart leaped at the sound of it and she whirled to look.
“Dax!”
The dragon king stood before her, dressed in a gold tunic. A saber hung at his hip and four guards flanked him. His dark curls glistened with rain and though exhaustion dulled his brown eyes, the relief at the sight of Safire—alive—was clear in his smile.
She hadn’t realized she missed him until that moment. How much she missed all of them. Her cousin’s presence sent a rush of joy through Safire. She wanted nothing more than to hug him, but Eris’s rope was still attached to her belt and Safire’s blade was still pointed at the girl’s chest, keeping her from trying anything.
