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He has to need me, has to feel my love graze his fingertips.
Right before he loses me.
Az’s gaze dips to the dagger, a scoff escaping his mouth. “You’re not going to use that.”
“You don’t think so? Why is it you’ve had all the windows in the palace barred? What exactly is it you’re so afraid I’ll do?”
Az turns to Kiran. “Clearly, this male still has a hold on you. Tell me, Kiran, are you okay with Asha dying on your behalf? Is this what you intended by manipulating her feelings all this time? Though, I suppose perhaps it’s useful to have a wife willing to die for you. You don’t care, do you?”
“Az, please,” I whisper, the point of the blade pressing into my sternum. “Don’t make me do this.”
“I’m not making you do anything, Asha. Just put the blade down. I can promise you, as soon as Kiran has been dealt with, you’ll feel differently. I thought you were getting better, but clearly he got his hands on you at some point…” Az pales, and his attention snaps between us, as if it had just dawned on him what would have occurred if such an opportunity had presented itself.
The jealousy in his eyes rages as he kicks Kiran in the mouth. Teeth crack. Blood stains Kiran’s lips, but he doesn’t retaliate. He just stares up at Az, almost in disbelief.
“You never deserved her,” Kiran says, and Az kicks him again.
I feel each kick as if they’re to my own mouth.
“Kiran, stop,” I whisper, but Kiran doesn’t stop.
“I didn’t either, to be frank. But at least I wasn’t foolish enough to miss my chance.”
This time when Az kicks, there’s a snap that sounds sickeningly like Kiran’s jaw.
The blade trembles in my hand. I move it to the side, feeling the notch between two of my ribs.
You can do this, you can do this, I whisper to myself.
Molten fire burns in Kiran’s eyes, horror and desperation as I inch the blade toward my skin.
A tear slices through the fabric of my gown.
Tears stream down Kiran’s eyes. They remind me what Kiran told me ages ago, while we talked in the palace gardens. That when he was a boy, his tears would boil, leaving burn marks on his cheeks.
But there’s no Flame left in him. Nothing to hurt him any longer, other than me.
“I love you,” I whisper.
And then I raise the dagger, preparing to plunge it into my chest.
I don’t get the chance.
Something strikes me, right where I had my dagger aimed.
It takes a moment for my body to register the pain.
I glance at Az first, a smug expression on his lips. His scabbard is empty.
No.
Kiran shouts.
No, no, no.
I stare down at the hilt protruding from my chest.
My dagger, the one I coated with Amity’s ressuroot last night, clatters to the floor, unused.
