KINGSLAYER

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That was not the strangest aspect of the attack, that went to the fact that no one knew the stronghold existed at all. It was a highly covert operation taking place there, so only the people that died in the attack knew of its whereabouts. Not even Fotelis knew. But it was not a new military settlement. That meant it had to have been struck by someone with extensive knowledge of classified military operations. There was only one person alive who met that requirement.

Her father had attacked her. And he had done it with the power of a God.

In order to keep the peace, she did everything she was told. She punished her own people for it. And still, she was assaulted.

Why had she ever sought to destroy Draven's power? Why had she not taken it for herself?

Her ears were buzzing with dull noise as she returned wordlessly to the dining hall. Just before the news, she had been distressed about her wedding being tomorrow. Now she needed that marriage more than ever. Her fingernails bit into her palms when she sat down beside Adrik, who remained unchanged. They all did. Twenty-five thousand dead, just like that.

Jaylah could not eat. All she could smell was charred human remains. She gripped the stem of her wineglass tightly enough to break it and downed the whole thing. And when it was done, she called for another. And another.

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Jaylah pressed her forehead against the cool pane of glass in her bedroom. It did nothing to stop the spread of uncomfortable tingles down her flushed skin.

When she opened her eyes, she could see nothing. It was all black, the clouds covered the moon, and every light was extinguished after the riots. Was this what it was like to be dead—nothing but cool, impersonal darkness and an inability to focus on much of anything without a body to anchor her?

Dead, dead, dead. It was such a small word for such an infinitely shocking thing. How could one word possibly describe the way she felt knowing most of her men would be gone by the next winter? When she was so far removed, it was too easy to subject others to death again and again without a single thought. After all, she did not know them. They were just names on a piece of paper, not people. They were not like her.

She had seen people die as early as seven years old. The first time she led her men into battle was at thirteen years old, and even then, she had to put a few of her fallen comrades out of their misery. But that was not the same as this. Any mistake she made now could lead to the mass extinction of her people. If she fumbled even a single battle, it could mean the replacement of their culture with a foreign one, the raping of girls much younger than her, children slaughtered in the streets to kill morale. She was the single thing standing between Oceana and a second Kalingi reign of terror.

If she let them fall, she would forever be written in history as the first female Emperor, the woman who lost her own country.

Jaylah's hand found the cool wine bottle. Tilting her head back, she drank straight from it. She was only tipsy and it was not enough. She needed something strong enough to forget that she was signing away her life tomorrow, to erase the realization that she was becoming something so far outside the way she used to be. Or perhaps this was the real her the entire time.

It was so sweet as it disappeared down her throat. Sickly so. It coated her mouth and washed away the remnants of her dinner, which she had barely been able to keep down. Finally her stomach did not feel so upset. Finally she could breathe again.

She drank until the liquid sloshed lightly in the bottom when she put the bottle down. It clamored against the table when she overestimated how far away it was. When she straightened, it was as if all the alcohol was swimming inside her head. She had to grip the windowsill for support. Her feet were kilometers away.