The Girl King (The Girl King #1)(122)

Me. I am the knowledge. I am the power. He wanted what she had. Wanted what she was.

What about what I want?

She didn’t say the words aloud, though. It wouldn’t be fair. Asking him a question to which she knew there was no answer.

Brother bowed his head. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to speak with the captain—I will return shortly. In the meantime, drink that draft I gave you and try to rest, Princess.”

When he’d gone, she set aside the draft and lifted the curtain hanging over the window by her bed. Outside, she counted perhaps thirty soldiers on horseback. Thirty men out of near a thousand.

Brother’s stallion had stumbled. As they’d ridden back out of the glowing slit she’d rent in the air, where the lake met the shore, the horse’s hooves had scrabbled for purchase. When Min looked down she’d seen the stones below were slick with blood. Blood, and lumps of something soft and pink and boneless—for that was what remained of men when they fell from such a great height.

Was Set’s blood, his bits of flesh, among them?

She closed her eyes.

What have I done?

What you were born to do.

The voice was thin this time, too weary for mocking. Min hadn’t even felt her appear, as though she hadn’t come at all—or as though she had been present the whole time.

“Tsai,” she blurted aloud, not caring if anyone heard. Butterfly hadn’t returned, and Min suspected she wouldn’t until she was forced to. “You’re her mother, aren’t you? You’re Lu’s mother but you let me . . . do that to her.”

“I told you,” she murmured. “I’m not her anymore, not truly.”

“I know!” Min snapped. “You’re an echo, a shade, a memory. But why would you help me hurt her daughter?”

There was a pause. “It’s funny, isn’t it? Tsai cursed you out of love for her child, but all that remains is me. A thing that seeks revenge like a snake seeks the warmth of a beating heart. I was born out of love. I was born of rightful fury. But what does that become when the love is gone?”

Min didn’t know. “I don’t care,” she said, and realized it was true. “Why do you sound so weak?”

“I just told you. What I am wasn’t meant to last in this world. I’m tired.”

“Why don’t you leave me, then?” Min demanded. “Our deal was that I would bring you to Yunis—but I’m headed back home now, and you’re still here.”

The shamaness laughed. A sad, little sound that dissolved like sugar into water. “You have to release me. And for all your talk of sons and happiness and a kind soul, you don’t want to let me go.”

“Of course I do,” Min cried. “Why would I—”

Liar.

And this time it sounded like her voice, and hers alone. The shamaness was gone—and also not. She could not feel her any longer, but then, she could no more feel her own lungs, her own heart.

What have I done? The question was contemplative this time. And she knew the answer.

Not nearly enough.



When Brother returned, Min was sitting up.

“You haven’t drunk your medicine,” he said, gesturing to the cup she had set on the floor beside the bed.

“No,” she agreed. “And I won’t. I’ve slept enough.”

“I really think—”

“Go tell the captain to get us moving again; we are wasting time.”

“Yes, of course, but—”

“And send Butterfly back in here,” she commanded. “I should like a change of clothes and my hair brushed.”

“Y-yes, Princess,” Brother stammered. “Of course.”

“And Brother?”

“Yes?”

“You will address me as ‘Empress’ from now on.”

Something like fear rippled across his face as he bowed. “Yes, Empress.” When he stood again, it was gone.

Min smiled toothily, and the fear returned.

“Good,” she said.





CHAPTER 37


Crowned

“There,” said the healer. Lu felt the woman’s energy, cool as water, withdraw from her body. “That’s as much as I can do for now.”

As Prince Jin looked on anxiously, Lu rotated her shoulder. It ached down to the bone, but dully now. Whole once more. She ran a hand over her ribs, bruised but whole as well. “Thank you,” she said to the healer.

The healer ignored her and instead spoke to Prince Jin. “The shoulder will take some time to finish mending. The bones were splintered, and my powers are weaker down here.”

She hates me. Rushing into battle in their defense had clearly not won Lu any new love from the Yunians.

“You did your best,” Jin told the healer.

“Yes, well. Vrea could have done more, perhaps . . . I’m sorry.” The woman brushed tears from her eyes.

Vrea. They would find a way to blame her for that death as well, and likely Prince Shen’s, too. Perhaps not unfairly.

Lu flexed her good hand, felt the phantom brush of Nokhai’s fingers slipping through it.

After it fell to earth from the Inbetween, the temple had reappeared protruding out of the mountain’s broad face. Right by the lake where Jin had welcomed her to Yunis just days ago—a lifetime ago, it seemed now. Jin had explained that because the temple had been first built on earth, then raised into the Inbetween, it was spared the violent reentry into the physical realm that the Heart had endured. Like welcomed like, he had said.