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LIFE WAS A CRUEL THING. Especially to her, to Azade who felt nothing but the itch of dread as she tried to keep herself from looking away. Vardin was looking down at her—perhaps in pity, or in his own contempt. Maybe he hated her now too. Perhaps he'd finally realized the death that seemed to follow her like an undetectable disease.
"How many?" She couldn't bear to meet his eyes. No dead bodies had passed her yet but she could make out the injuries of others well enough that she assumed their must've been casualties. "How many did I kill?"
"You killed nobody. This was all his doing, you could've done nothing to stop it." He breathed out, an comforting lie amongst the blood-stained truth that surrounded her. He reached to take her hand in his calloused palm, but just as he did he suddenly stopped at the sound of a cold voice.
"Don't lie to her."
Fazad came out from the end of the hall, his robes flowing behind him as his fast pace stopped for no one. He too, looked disheveled—slightly less gruesome than Vardin, but for some reason Azade knew that perhaps his injuries had not resulted in scratches or bruises.
His angry eyes flung past her, instead to behind her. Sooraya, she had forgotten, was still standing behind Azade. Fazad ran up to his wife and held his chin up as he towered over her, "Where were you?"
"On a walk."
"For the entire night?"
Her eyes rose to meet his, as if daring her husband to challenge her. "Since when did you start caring where I spend my time?"
Fazad glared at the both of them, but his eyes focused in on his wife. "You let this happen. You led her away from the palace?"
"I did not." She lied, meeting his glare. It felt strange to witness this sort of dynamic between them, like two lions sizing each other up. "I went on walk and saw her running away, so I followed."
"You ran away?" Fazad turned to her, but then to Vardin. "You were supposed to make sure she stayed in the palace!"
Vardin said nothing first, his eyes glancing down to the floor, covered in footprints of blood. Something told her that there was guilt on his shoulders too. Finally, he spoke. "He was going to kill her."
"The plan was to keep her in the palace!"
"There would be no plan if she was dead."
Fazad gave a bitter laugh, stone eyes burning into hers with hate. "Now two good men are dead, and more are injured for the life of a scrawny slave." She could feel Vardin about to speak and come to her defence, as he always did but this time Azade wouldn't let him. She was tired. She was tired of it all.
