I opened the door, ushering Ava inside. Her hair fell in long curtains over her face, and she kept her head down. The demurest Lukubi I had met yet.
“Shut the door, please. I won’t need help with anything else tonight,” I said. I gave her my back and tossed my gloves onto the bed. “Tell Zizi and Mirna not to trouble themselves.”
At least I would be rested for tomorrow’s journey. If Arin asked after my abrupt departure from the courtyard, I could fabricate an illness.
I held still, but Ava didn’t reach for the ties. I glanced over. She had her back to me as she rifled through her bag. Calming herself before fumbling with my hooks?
Sighing, I turned to her. “I can do it my—”
A dagger plunged into my chest.
Time crawled to a stop. It took a deep breath, gathering itself, before everything exploded into chaos.
I acted without thought, instinct racing faster than sensation, and grabbed the hilt before Ava could withdraw it.
In the split second when she and I stood close enough to share our breath, I spotted the shifting contours of a glamor. I blinked, tugging at the corners, and the glamor shattered.
“Hello, amari,” Soraya whispered.
No. No, no, no. It wasn’t possible. This couldn’t be real.
I stumbled away, holding the hilt steady. The world spun, and the dagger spearing my chest did not compare to the pandemonium breaking loose inside my heart.
“You’re dead,” I gasped.
Soraya’s long curls were gone, replaced with a short, straight cut. The black waves framed a young face aged beyond its time. She would be twenty-seven years old now, maybe? Tiny scars littered my former attendant’s fingers.
“Does it hurt? It shouldn’t. I’m sorry. I had to do it quickly,” Soraya said, staring at the dagger with concern, as though it appeared in my chest during a casual conversation. “If I hesitated, I would have lost my nerve.” She dropped heavily onto the bed. “Killing you is the hardest task I have ever accomplished, and the worst.”
This was too much. I couldn’t set this aside. I couldn’t think through it.
Soraya was here. She was alive.
And she had come here to kill me.
I rapidly ran through my options. Soraya’s position intercepted my path to the door. Assuming the other attendants were innocent of this scheme, they wouldn’t know to check for me this early in the evening.
“Your glamor must be excellent.” I slapped my palm against the wall, resisting my knees’ determination to crumple. Red-hot pain seared through my chest. “To sneak into the Sultana’s personal staff.”
Soraya’s honeyed eyes gentled. How dare she? She had no right to look at me like she cared after—after—
“Not really. I kept out of sight, and the glamor distorted any flashes someone spotted.”
We stared at each other, and the stinging betrayal won over the anger. My voice trembled. “Why did you do this to me?”
Immediately, Soraya’s eyes filled with tears. “I did not want to, Essiya. I prayed you had died quickly at the Blood Summit. I never wanted you to know this.” Soraya’s face hardened, a terrifying rage flashing across her features. I had never seen her look anything other than patient or quietly amused. “I should have known Qayida Hanim would ruin everything.”
“Ruin everything by not murdering me?” I choked out a laugh. “All these years I thought fate could not curse me with anyone worse than Hanim, and all along, you—”
Indignation yanked Soraya to her feet. “If she had done what she was meant to, none of this would be happening! Our entire effort would not be at risk because Jasad’s rightful Queen still lived!” Soraya paced my chambers. “I should have suspected. She had already ruined our plans once.”
The pain in my chest flared, maturing into an agony I could hardly think past. My stubborn mind raced, struggling to make sense of what Soraya said.
“It’s you,” I gasped. “You are the rogue Mufsid. You attacked me in the woods with Hanim’s specter.”
I coughed, spattering the bedsheets red. Blood soaked through the front of my dress, staining my fingers. Roughly guessing, ten minutes remained before the damage she had done became irreversible.
“Yes, and if Arin ever bothered to sleep, we could have avoided this entire Champion farce. The others are desperate to catch you before the Urabi and bring you into our fold. They have forgotten why we were founded in the first place. I have not.” The woman staring at me was pitiless. Worse than Hanim, because at least the former Qayida wore her hatred on the outside. “There is no place for royals in the Jasad we plan to revive. Your grandparents brought destruction to our people, and I will not resurrect the system that failed us over and over. The Mufsids were forged to carve change, to reclaim Jasad’s power and grind our boot on all kingdoms that sought to destroy us.”