Chapter 33
The room smelled of her. Somadina had noticed it the moment he entered—that subtle, intoxicating scent that seemed to cling to everything she touched. Hemlock and something sweeter underneath, something that made his chest ache and his pulse quicken.
She was reading by the window; seeing her so at peace in his own space felt surreal.
He joined her, resting his head on her lap, and closed his eyes.
Azul's fingers moved through his hair in a soothing rhythm that made his thoughts fade. He had not slept properly in days—not since his father's death. Preparations for the upcoming battles had stretched him to his limits. But in all this, there was a future after him.
"I like how your room smells," he murmured. "It smells like the Igbele."
"Perhaps because it's the only place in this palace that belongs to me."
He smiled against her thigh. "Then the whole palace should smell like you, for what part isn’t yours now?"
They were quiet for a moment. Thunder rumbled in the sky as the land prepared to receive another bout of relentless rain.
"I'm scared," he whispered.
Her fingers paused, then continued.
"Of what?"
"Of everything." He opened his eyes, staring at the patterns of light on the ceiling. "I'm not... I'm not a good man, Obim. I've done terrible things. I've hurt people; I’ve hurt you. "
"You are a violent man," she said. "Raised in a place that demands violence. And now you are the only one standing. You have no enemies anymore. The throne is yours to take."
He turned his head, looking up at her.
"When this battle is over," she said, "you will be king. The reinforcements have been sent. Ragnar will return with his forces, and Orda Naiman will be driven back. And then the Borjigin will have a ruler who understands what it costs to hold power."
Somadina tensed at the name. Ragnar. The Great Khan. The man who would return and claim her, take her away, and leave him alone in this palace with nothing but memories of her scent and her touch.
Azul felt the tension. Her fingers stilled.
"You're thinking about him," she said.
"I don't want to lose you."
She was quiet for a moment. Then, very softly, she laughed.
"You won't lose me to him," she said. "I'll kill him myself, if that's what it takes to pacify you."
Somadina's breath caught. He looked up at her, searching her face for the lie; he failed to find it.
"You would?" he whispered.
"I would." Her smile was tender. "So rest easy; I chose you."
Something in his chest loosened. Something he'd been holding on to so tightly.
He turned his head and pressed his lips to her thigh; it sent heat flooding through him. She did not pull away. So he kissed her again, taking his time to savour her skin.
Her fingers tightened slightly in his hair.
"Sleep," she murmured. "You're exhausted."
He wanted to argue, but his eyes were heavy, and her touch was so gentle, and the warmth of her lap was the safest place he had ever known.
Within moments, he was asleep.
Azul looked down at him—at the prince who had tried to kill her.
So easy.
The thought drifted through her mind. It would be easy to kill him now. A hairpin to his jugular, and he would never wake.
She smiled.
But not yet.
The Dowager's chambers were dim when Azul entered, the curtains drawn against a sun the old woman no longer wished to see.
"You." The word was flat. "What do you want?"
Azul smiled. "A walk, Dowager. The day is fine, and you've been confined too long. I thought you might enjoy some air."
The Dowager's eyes narrowed. "I am under house arrest. I cannot leave these chambers."
Azul tilted her head. "I am simply a concerned granddaughter, taking her grieving grandmother for a stroll. Who would object?"
The Dowager hesitated; her suspicion was great, but the urge to leave her confines was greater.
"Very well," she said finally. "But if this is a trap—"
"If it is a trap, Dowager, you are already in it." Azul's smile widened. "Shall we?"
They walked along the palace walls, the city spreading below them, alive and waiting. The noise from below strangely loud for dusk. The Dowager leaned heavily on Azul's arm, her steps unsteady after days of confinement, but her eyes were sharp, taking in everything.
"You're a strange creature," the Dowager said after a long silence. "I would think you would be more wary of me; gods know I would."
"The gods work in mysterious ways."
"Don't blaspheme." The Dowager's voice was sharp. "You may have fooled the others, but I know what you are."
"And what is that?"
The Dowager stopped, turning to face her. In the sunlight, her eyes were fierce.
"You are a slave girl who got lucky. Nothing more. Nothing less. Your power is borrowed from my unfortunate grandson. One day he will grow tired of you like they all do, and you'll be back in the dirt where you belong."
“Did the Igwe grow tired of you too?”
“What did you say?”
“Dowager, from my understanding, you had no biological child—”
A slap.
Azul’s head snapped to the side as pain consumed her face.
“Keep your mouth out of my family.” The Dowager scowled.
Azul wiped her bloodied lips with her sleeves and inclined her head. “My apologies, Dowager.”
They continued walking.
Below them, the city square had filled with people. A crowd, gathering around a platform that had been erected overnight. At its centre, a figure knelt—a woman in rough prison clothes, her head bowed, her hands bound.
Civilians waited as far as the eye could see—a heaving, writhing mass that swallowed the streets whole. The noise became too great as they passed by, the Dowager frowned. “An execution?”
Azul let her watch.
“How pathetic. I suppose they must be quite a notorious criminal to be publicly beheaded.”
“Dowager, do you truly not recognise her?” Azul asked.
The Dowager stopped, her eyes searching, trying to pinpoint who the haggard woman was. After a few long seconds, her hands flew to her mouth.
"No," she whispered. "They wouldn't—she's the First Wife!"
The executioner stepped forward. The crowd roared.
“You must stop this at once!” the Dowager yelled, grabbing Azul’s shoulders, but it was all to no avail.
By the time her gaze returned to the scene, by the time she had rushed to the ledge of the palace walls, the blade had fallen.
The Ugoeze's body crumpled. Blood sprayed across the platform, across the front rows of onlookers, and across the stones that had witnessed a hundred executions before this one.
The Dowager's legs gave way.
Azul caught her, lowering her gently to the wall's edge. The old woman's face was grey, her breath coming in gasps, her eyes fixed on the scene below with the horror of someone watching their own future unfold.
"Why?" she whispered. "Why did you bring me here?"
"To see," Azul crouched beside her. A smile spread on her face, terrifying the poor, old lady. "This is what your future looks like."
The Dowager shook.
"The game is over." Azul's golden eyes met hers. "The pieces have fallen. The board is cleared. You have a choice."
The Dowager's eyes widened.
"I can leave you here," Azul continued. "The guards will find you eventually. They'll take you back to your chambers, and you'll wait out the rest of your days in comfortable imprisonment until Somadina decides it is time to die."
"Or?"
Azul's smile widened.
"Or you can run."
She gestured down the wall, toward a distant staircase that led to the city below.
"If you go now, you can disappear into the crowd. There will be no guards. The path is clear. You can vanish, find your way to the countryside, and live out whatever years remain to you in freedom. Or you can gather power, come back here, and take the throne."
The crowd's roar was deafening.
The Dowager stared at her. "Why would you do this? Why help me escape?"
Azul rose, looking down at her with an expression that held no malice or triumph; it was simply empty, as if it was beneath her to feel anything at all towards the woman.
"Because you have played well, Imperial Grandmother.
" She bowed—a formal bow, the bow of a granddaughter to her elder.
"You have schemed and manipulated and fought for your family with every weapon at your disposal.
Of the forty-three wives your husband had and the fifty-seven children.
You and your adopted son were the only survivors.
I respect that. And so I offer you this: freedom.
A chance to leave the board before the game claims you. "
She turned to go.
"It's not a trap," she added over her shoulder. "I have no reason to trap you. If you want to run, run. If you want to stay, stay. The choice is yours."
And she walked away, leaving the Dowager alone on the wall, staring at the blood-soaked platform below and the open path above.
The Dowager ran.
She was old, and her legs were weak, and the stairs nearly defeated her. But fear was a powerful motivator, and she had seen what happened to those who crossed this particular devil.
She reached the bottom, gasping, and plunged into the city's back streets. Away from the square, away from the palace, away from everything that had been her life for sixty years.
Freedom. She could taste it. She could almost believe it.
Behind her, on the palace wall, Azul stopped to watch the woman’s figure disappear.
In her mind, a voice spoke.
Can I eat her?
Azul's lips curved as she stifled a laugh.
"A Divine King must be nutritious for you," she murmured. "Go ahead."
The cell was dark, damp, and cold enough to seep into a man's bones and stay there. Chukwuemeka sat on the rough stone floor, his back against the wall, his eyes fixed on nothing. He had been here for days now—how many, he could no longer count—waiting for a death that had not yet come.
The Ugoeze's execution had been announced an hour ago. He heard the guards talking, their voices carrying through the stone as if they wanted him to hear.
Where had he gone wrong? There was no way for Somadina to realise he was a double agent, surely? He made sure Kamsi could not make him King, keeping him placated until the end