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Margot is the only one who remains upright and composed, though I know she feels this loss just as deeply as our sisters. She walks on unsteady feet toward me, grabbing my hands in hers.
“What can I do?” Her voice is even, determined, so much like Maman’s it hurts.
How do I tell her that I don’t know? That my last attempt at a plan got both of our parents killed. That I thought we could defeat this monster of a woman, but she’s ruthless, indestructible—
My eyes land on Khijhana with that last thought. She is rousing, flexing her paws.
And there is blood on her claws.
Madame’s blood…
Einar is already at her side, examining her paws. Then his eyes meet mine, glowing with the same vengeance I feel coursing through my veins.
Because we finally have proof that Madame can be hurt.
That she can be killed.
CHAPTERSIXTY-THREE
ZAINA
Despite what I tried to convey to Einar, I cannot shake the sinking feeling that we have lost.
This was it. Our one shot. We tried to beat her, and we failed.
When she orders me to accompany her to the docks without making a scene, I’m not sure if I do it solely for Aika’s sake, to fulfill my promise not to abandon her again, or because Madame has finally broken me.
Because after everything, she’swon.
Icy rage radiates off of her with each measured step from her carriage to the ship. She didn’t say a word the entire ride here, and I couldn’t risk upsetting her when she still has Aika somewhere.
She knows that, of course.
So, I fight to keep my composure as I walk the unsteady plank across the dark, churning water. The sound of the waves lapping against the boat brings memories of bodies washing up to shore, the half-eaten carcasses of the people who wound up on the wrong side of her.
Against my better judgment, I look down to see shadows moving in the surface. I know, rationally, there aren’t sharks this close to the docks, but my insides seize up all the same.
One step, then another.
Of course, when I look up, an even worse nightmare awaits me.
Damian.
He is exactly the same as the last time I saw him, all cruel beauty and sadistic stares. Except that he is, rather unfortunately, not engulfed in flames.
He’s even still wearing the same expression, fury and shock draining the blood from his face. Though something in his expression feels more volatile, more unhinged since the last time I saw him.
Like there are cracks beneath the surface of his fragile sanity.
“You’re not dead,” he finally breathes.
If Madame’s relief had been jarring, Damian’s is terrifying. Unnerving. Whatever anger he has at being fooled by me has been eclipsed by the raw need written all over his face.
The need to own me.
Panic weakens my limbs. I shove down the memories of his hands on my neck, his mouth crushing against mine, the oppressive heat of the fire that should have killed us both…
“Neither are you.” My voice falters, and I press my lips shut to keep them from trembling.
