A wry smile crossed my lips. “I asked you first.”
“I came for revenge, but I’m leaving with something much more worthwhile. Friendship.” She huffed out a laugh and gave me a tentative smile. “How do you feel?”
I knew what she meant. I flexed my hands, the black stains on my skin gone. I reached for the dark power that once filled my veins and to my relief nothing answered me. The only voice answering was my own.
“I feel… normal. As if I had never consumed zoraat. I can still lift a sword, which is all that matters to me.”
“And here?” Noor pressed her palm flat against her chest. “How do you feel here?”
I chewed on my bottom lip, lifting my eyes to Mazin who stood a little distance away. He was staring at the fields too, but at my glance he looked in my direction.
“I feel raw, hurt, but still alive. And that’s got to count for something.”
“Yes,” Noor said, following my gaze to Mazin. “It does. You don’t have to live the narrative your grandmother did.”
“I can choose,” I said, for the first time believing it was true. Believing that I had my own power, my own freedom, the ability to make my own destiny, and not be held back by the past.
“And what do you choose?”
I looked at Maz again, and he met my eyes, a smile touching his lips that was more than a little quizzical.
I clutched the pendant in my hand, the blade that represented who I was. And I looked at Mazin, the person I could make a future with, despite all the loss and pain and heartbreak.
“I choose him,” I said to Noor. “And I choose myself.”
Epilogue
The light was good for training today.
Sunlight peeked through the gray mottled clouds, and a cool breeze blew across the field, giving my students a much-needed reprieve from the heat.
“One more drill,” I called across the sea of trainees, which caused a chorus of groans.
A cup nudged my elbow and the scent of steeped mint and cardamom wafted toward me.
“Another? They’ll be cursing your name by the end of the day.”
I took the tea from Mazin gratefully and inhaled. “At least they’ll know how to block properly. Which is more than I can say for Imran right now.”
Mazin put his arm around my chest and pressed his lips to my hair. I closed my eyes and leaned against him, inhaling him as well. Woods. Lemon. Morning.
Hope.
Then I opened one eye and barked out an order. “Yalina! Keep your arms up! You nearly stabbed yourself with your own scimitar!”
“I love it when you screech commands in my ear while I’m kissing you,” he murmured into my hair.
I snorted. “Don’t you have council meetings in Basral to be in?”
“Anam’s there. She always said she wasn’t a fighter, but she’s been waging more war in those council meetings than we have on the battlefield.”
“I always knew she was a warrior.” A smile curved my lips as I imagined her facing off with the leaders of the other kingdoms, creating an empire all on her own.
We stood there for a moment, watching the students run through another training drill, each holding a sword made by my father, each putting it to the use he intended. Our village smith was alive again, with a new purpose, just like me.
“You’ve got a visitor.”
I looked over to where Maz gestured and saw Noor leaning against the fence, a saddled stallion beside her, a travel pack over her shoulder. My chest constricted at seeing her, and I straightened, pulling away from Maz slowly, despite his sound of protest.
