The Girl King (The Girl King #1)(15)

A dozen sense memories surged to the surface of their stagnant pool: his mother’s fingertip against his forehead, stroking a loose hank of hair back into place; his cousin Idri playfully scooping him and his sister into a bear hug as they squealed in protest. His little sister Nasan, toddling at his side when she was small, then running across the barren red flats together when her legs shot up and sprawled nearly as long and lanky as his own.

You could have that, and more. The thought whispered through him like a dry wind, and he knew with certainty that at his word, Adé would leave Carmine. You could court her, marry her, have a family again, the voice in his head insisted. And he could see it, feel it all, the knowledge of a hundred moments elapsed into one: Adé at his side shopping in the market for a supper they will share, Adé reaching a small hand up to cup his face and kiss him, Adé holding him close at night . . .

Adé knowing his secrets.

What would she think if she knew what he really was? Would she still want to kiss him? She was the best person he knew—and yet, he couldn’t say for certain. He’d seen too much evil to trust the immutability of good in anyone.

I would only put her in danger, anyway.

He shook his hand free.

“Carmine is a good match for you,” he said.

“I know,” she nodded vigorously. “I know that. And I—he’s a good person. He’s kind to me, and he makes me laugh. I don’t mean to . . . I just always thought that you and I would be, you know, when we were kids. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least ask.” She paused, frowning. “Did you ever—?”

“No,” he said, cutting her short. “I don’t think about the future.”

“Oh.”

Nok rubbed his palms together.

Adé brushed one slippered foot over the other. “Does this mean you won’t come to my engagement party?”

“I’ll think on it,” he said. He stepped away, not meeting her eyes. “I should get going.”

Adé frowned. “Back to Ansana already?”

“Omair needs me,” he told her lightly. “I’ve lingered long enough as it is.”

“Do you want me to walk you to the Northern Gatehead at least?” Adé asked hopefully.

“No, it’s all right,” he said, forcing a tight smile. “I know the way.”

He left quickly, before there could be any other objections. If she watched him go, he did not turn around to see.





CHAPTER 5


The Small Princess

The unknown woman reached toward Minyi, tender as a mother.

She could not see her face, but Min felt she recognized her nevertheless. Deeply, down to her bones. She closed her eyes in the warmth of the stranger’s arms. The woman’s white silks were soft against her fingers. She smelled clean, like spring winds—but beneath it, Min sensed something unsettling. Sulfur and burning, like a candle that had just been snuffed out.

When she looked up, the woman’s face was a chasm of writhing light and fire, horrible to behold.

Cold fear seized her, but the sensation quickened into an unbearable heat. The woman’s robes turned to living flames, scorching Min’s arms and neck and setting her hair ablaze. She opened her mouth to cry out and the stranger bent over her, sucking the scream out of her with a cruel, searing kiss—

Min awoke with a start violent enough to chase the nightmare away. Even as she blinked the sleep from her eyes, it seemed to fly from her grasp like a pale gray bird, leaving only a lingering trace of dread.

She shivered, feeling both cold and hot.

Not today. I can’t be ill today of all days. Their mother would be livid if she missed her sister’s Betrothal Ceremony. Min sat up.

And felt a hot surge between her thighs.

She cried out at the sensation, already deadening into a cold, heavy wetness.

Across the room, Butterfly sat up. “Are you all right, Princess?” she asked drowsily. Beside her, Snowdrop’s small feet poked out from beneath the sheets; she smacked her lips in her sleep but did not rouse.

Min just shook her head wordlessly and stumbled out of bed, grabbing at the silken hem of her nightgown.

Butterfly was up in an instant, kicking Snowdrop in her haste to assist Min.

“Princess, what’s the matter? Are you hurt?”

Min slapped the nuna’s hands away and hiked up her hem to her waist.

A bright scarlet spot was staining its way through her under wrappings.

Red. So red.

She thought of the first flame, no doubt crackling away in the courtyard at that very moment. In her mind’s eye she saw a flash of white silk burst into flame. She blinked; where had she seen that before?

But the thought vanished as her body gave another involuntary contraction and yet more blood spilled forth.

She screamed.

Amma Ruxin rushed into the room, followed by the rest of her nunas.

“What’s happened?” demanded the amma.

“It’s all right. She has her first blood.” It was Butterfly who answered. Who understood, even before Min herself.

Relief flooded Min’s body, quickly chased by hot, diffuse embarrassment. She wasn’t dying—only stupid.

Amma Ruxin was clucking at the nunas to refill Min’s tub and fetch clean undergarments. “Hurry,” the older woman snapped.