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If Az thought I was dead, he’d probably just stuff me in a marble coffin, and then I would suffocate to death.
Not ideal.
As I ponder my fate, my will to fight back slowly being chipped away from me, I nestle my head into Nagivv’s dry coat and fall asleep to the hum of her gentle purr.
Az frequents my quarters at night.
Tonight is no exception, though I always hope it will be.
He never stays for long, never goes so far as to force himself upon me. A small kindness for which I thank the Fates.
But just because that threshold hasn’t yet been crossed doesn’t mean that Az hasn’t been toeing that line.
“The guards said that you had a better day today,” Az says, striding into my stuffy room. He locks the door behind him, stuffing a key into his belt.
I blink, trying to remember how I’m supposed to respond. When I first came back to the palace, I’d been playing the role of a confused girl, mind muddled by over a year of magical manipulation. I reinforced the ruse with fits of anger, coupled with long bouts of silence.
I cry myself to sleep every night, sometimes allowing Az to hold me as I drift off to sleep.
As I pretend to drift off to sleep.
But over time, I’ve played the part so well, infused it with so much of my own fury, my own apprehension, I fear I’ve forgotten where I end and this weakened version of myself begins.
I wonder if there’s never been a difference.
The tears are real, after all. The darkness that sweeps over my very soul, unfaked.
“Did I?” I force a faint smile to my lips. The faint part is the easy bit, the smile itself feeling like I’m trying to lift a fallen beam off my leg at too strange an angle to fully get a grip on it.
Az nods at my plate of food, which is almost empty. “I’d say that’s an improvement of its own.”
I forced the food down today, only at the pestering of my magic, who refused to stop screaming in my head until I finished my meal.
It will help nothing to starve yourself, he’d told me.
I know that well enough. But it’s something I can control. A simple act of defiance that even Az can’t take away from me.
I’m not sure what, who that makes me, that I would harm myself just to spite him. Just to remind myself that I am my own, and not simply a pawn in his games.
It’s difficult to remember when I’m too busy reminding myself to act as if I love him.
I do so now, examining the face I’ve memorized over the years.
Az hasn’t been sleeping.
I can tell by the faint bruises that have formed underneath his eyes. I hear him pacing all hours of the night on the other side of the wall that separates our quarters.
Even in the daytime, he acts strangely. His hands have developed a tremor, his eyelids a strange twitch.
“You look ill,” I say. It’s effortful, but I manage to infuse my voice with concern.
Az takes in a deep breath. I don’t miss how he clenches his hands to steady the tremors. “The Others are more difficult to control than I expected. It takes extreme focus to reign over their minds. I’ve found when I sleep, the control slips.”
My heart beats wildly, and I can’t decide if it’s out of hope or fright. On one hand, this will be the first weakness Az has revealed. On the other…
“A pack of mere attacked a group of Meranthi citizens a few nights ago when I dozed off,” he explains.
Pain swells in my throat. “Anyone we know?”
