Oh, my daughter, she speaks to me at night.
Oh, my daughter, the moonlight gives her sight.
She swims across the starless sky
And doesn’t see my fright.
—Songs of Astola,collected and compiled by Mahira Nazir
Yaseema
He walked through the door, taking my whole heart with him. It closed behind him, but not before I saw him look back and throw me a wink over his shoulder.
When it shuddered to a close, my legs gave out. I fell to the floor, gasping out ugly, messy sobs.
I lay like that on the floor, my arms curled around my stomach, letting myself feel everything, just this once.
When I’d read the inscription, I knew what he would do. I knew that I didn’t have long with him.
Because it’s what I would do.
I let out another broken. My heart had shattered, broken into pieces, crumbled from my chest like the pieces of the King’s crown in the Viceroy.
That type of magic demands blood.
I had killed him, and yet he still managed to stab me in the heart as well. Heknewthe type of sacrifice the curse demanded.
The sacrifice that Kiyan made, without question.
I wrapped my arms around my waist, wanting to lie here forever, knowing I couldn’t.
“Child, whatever is the matter?”
I startled, wiping my face and sitting back on my knees.
A fae female was crouched down, her hand outstretched toward me. She had hazel-brown eyes studded with golden flecks, and her dark hair was braided into a coronet on top of her head. She was wearing a vibrant green frock, beaded and falling over her legs, with matching trousers underneath. Concern was bright in her eyes, and as I took her in, I realized she reminded me of someone.
Kiyan.
This was Kiyan’s mother.
There were slight differences—her nose straighter and more pointed, her brow more slender, her lips thinner. Her eyes were different—light where his were dark, and his reminded me of fresh, rich soil.
Tell my mother I love her.
I started sobbing anew, taking in everything on her that reminded me of him. He wasn’t here anymore, and I didn’t know how to get him back.
“I don’t think you’re helping, Mother.”
I reared back, jerking my head to the another female voice. Standing, I took in the two peris behind her, a male and a female. They were dressed as ornately as the queen, with the same bold features as Kiyan, similar long noses and white hair. The female walked toward me, concern painted on her face.
“Are you the one who opened the door? Why are you upset? We won’t hurt you if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I think she’s human.” The male, who looked so similar to Kiyan, leaned against the stone.
“Of course she’s human,” snapped the female, clearly Kiyan’s sister.
“I didn’t open the door,” I said, finally finding my voice. “He did.”
