Chapter 13 #2
His chin was still propped in his other hand, his gaze somewhere above her window, and the dying light caught the topography of everything that had been done to him.
She wondered what he looked like beneath the mask still covering his face.
She had elected not to look before, for reasons that felt less sound now than they had this morning.
The heat wasn't receding.
She pressed the back of her hand to her own cheek and felt the warmth there and then made the mistake of looking at him again.
He had shifted slightly, and the motion pulled at the bandaging she'd wrapped around his torso—white cloth against tanned skin, her own neat stitches hidden beneath it.
She had put her hands there. She knew exactly what was underneath.
This, she recognised distantly, was the poison's effect—not that it invented feelings, but that it dissolved the effort she usually spent not having them.
Just like the concubine who had been hanged, she too would lose herself and eventually lose all inhibitions.
She looked back at the ceiling.
"Stop watching me," she said.
He glanced down at her, unhurried. "I'm watching the birds."
"They've gone. It's dark."
A pause. "So it is."
"You should leave," she said. Her voice came out level. "Before it gets worse. I won't be responsible for my actions. It would be safer for you to go."
"...There are footsteps outside," he said. "A man has been circling your quarters for the last ten minutes."
She closed her eyes.
Of course. Poison her, wait for it to work, and send someone to find her.
The Ugoeze was thorough.
"Then stay by the window," she said. "If they come in, handle it however you see fit. After that, go."
"And you? What will happen to you?"
Why did he care? "I'll manage."
She heard him settle against the wall near the window.
The night stretched. She focused on breathing, on the cool dusty smell of the shrine walls, and on the small sounds of her snake moving somewhere across the room. On anything except the heat, which climbed regardless.
She bit down on her own hand, giving herself more pain to focus on.
Through the gap in the curtains, she saw a shadow approaching. A man, moving carefully, clearly familiar with the layout, expecting to find her alone and willing.
She heard her window slide open, and a man climbed through silently, turning to face her.
Ragnar didn't give him time to react. One hand over the mouth, one arm around the throat, a sharp twist—crack.
The body crumpled.
The Khan lowered it silently, checking for a pulse.
It was only then that the noises started. Shouting, running, and men barking orders.
"We saw him come this way! Search every room!"
Ragnar's eyes met Azul's.
A knock came at the door.
"Akwaugo! Akwaugo, are you there? Guards are coming; they say they saw a dangerous man sneaking around the palace and are in search of him."
Ragnar looked at the body at his feet; he grabbed the corpse, hauling it over his shoulder and lunging out the window. The knock came again, more urgently. "Akwaugo!"
"Open in the name of the Ugoeze. A man was seen entering this courtyard!"
Azul forced herself upright. The room spun. She bit her lip until it bled, focusing through the pain.
"Akwaugo?" Nkiru sounded terrified. "Please answer me!"
"Enter." Her voice came out rough but it was loud enough.
The door opened.
Nkiru rushed in first, her face pale. Behind her, four guards pushed into the room, their eyes sweeping every corner.
"Akwaugo." The lead guard bowed perfunctorily. "Your pardon, but we must search. A man was seen—"
"Search to your heart’s content." Every word cost her. "Quickly. I'm unwell and wish to rest."
The guards spread out. Checked under the bed. Behind the screens. The storage chest. The window.
"Nothing, sir."
The lead guard frowned, clearly unhappy. "The tracks led here…"
"What exactly are you accusing me of?" Azul's eyes locked onto his. Even poisoned, even burning, she was terrifying. "Speak plainly or leave."
The guard hesitated, clearly unwilling to just leave and fail at their mission, but what reason would they have to stay?
"Out."
A command came from the doorway.
Somadina stepped into the room, his eyes swept over Azul—the flush on her cheeks, the sweat on her brow, the way she held herself too still—and something flickered in his expression.
"I said out. All of you."
Only at his word did the guards flee. Nkiru looked at Azul, who nodded almost imperceptibly. The girl slipped out, closing the door.
They were alone.
Somadina moved towards her.
"You're ill." His hand reached out, and Azul flinched away—but her body betrayed her, heat pooling where his fingers almost touched. "Did you drink too much?"
"I didn't." Her words came out wrong—breathless, weak. She hated it; she hated him. She especially hated how her body responded to his proximity even as her mind screamed danger.
His hand caught her chin and forced her to look at him. "You're beautiful like this, helpless."
Something silver glinted in her hand.
In the blink of an eye she'd pulled her hairpin from under her pillow and pressed it against her own thigh, the point breaking skin. Pain flared, dispelling the persistent fog in her mind for a few moments as blood trickled down her skirt.