Thirty-seven

Mazin led me to his bedroom. I should have felt elated at this turn of events. This would be one more moment I would use against him, one more way I could take my revenge.

But all I felt was the sick churning of my stomach, and growing dread with every step. I wanted him to suffer, but I wasn't sure if I was ready for this.

Not yet.

We ended up at the room I knew well, though he had no idea I'd been there before. The lamps were already lit, and they cast a soft glow around the dark room. I couldn't help but remember the last time I was here, and how different things were. Back when we could tell each other any secret, confess any regret without fear of judgment.

Back to when I loved him.

And now, I was different.

But he was different too, even though I was the one with the new face. I cast a surreptitious glance his way and spied the dark stains under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept in a year. His face was gaunt, which frustratingly made him appear more handsome. It was as if some of his boyish youth had deserted him, and in its place he was cold, calculating. A killer.

I understood that, because I was too.

We were what he made us.

"You have something to show me?" I asked, as if we both weren't here for another reason entirely. My breath was trapped in my chest and the pressure was unbearable. I pressed my hands to my thighs to still their shaking.

I needed distance. I needed time to get myself under control before I went down this dark road.

"Yes," he said, his voice straightforward. He went to his desk, a dark mahogany that replaced the cabinet once sitting there. I swept my gaze around the room to find that other things were different too—the room appeared darker, as if the hollowness from his eyes had seeped into the fabric and walls and created a room of shadows. Gone was any color, any life. He once had a painting of a jasmine flower on the wall his sister painted, and that too was removed, with a faint outline from where it had been. Mazin walked toward me, but a movement from the other side of the room drew my gaze.

A small black shadow moved closer from the darkness. I jumped back, my eyes adjusting, trying to make out what I was seeing. Had Mazin been consuming zoraat too? Had he summoned the shadows to life? I slammed into Maz behind me with a gasp, and he pressed a steadying hand to my shoulder.

"What…"

The creature jumped out of the darkness, leaping for me, and behind my shock and dread something registered in the back of my mind.

A cat leapt into my arms, a cat that had once been mine.

And if I felt like I couldn't breathe before, now I was drowning. I clutched the dark ball of fur to my chest, my eyes burning.

I couldn't cry. Not now. I bit my lip so hard I drew blood to dispel the tears.

I scrambled for a response. "I wasn't expecting a cat in your room…" I broke off awkwardly.

"Jalebi usually avoids strangers. I'm sorry to have scared you." He said the last words with a faint huff of amusement, as if it was impossible to be afraid of the cat clinging to me.

He moved to take the cat from my arms, but I shifted away from him, holding Jalebi close.

"No, it's fine. I was just surprised." I stroked her head softly. "She's lovely." I buried my head in her fluffy neck and closed my eyes at her answering purr. I had forgotten how much I missed her, and how much of my old life I didn't realize I longed for.

He inclined his head. "Don't let my sister hear you say so. Jalebi tends to attack anyone else who comes her way. The cat is a bit feral."

I bristled at his derisive tone. "Why do you have her, then?"

He paused, a slight smile on his face. "She belonged to someone I once knew and I wanted to make sure she had a home."

I couldn't stop the scowl from crossing my face.

She would have her true home if you hadn't arrested me, you selfish bastard.

"That's so thoughtful of you," I said through gritted teeth. I probably looked as feral as Jalebi.

He rubbed the back of his neck, as if suddenly self-conscious. "Anyway, this is what I wanted to show you."

He handed a box to me and I put Jalebi down on the bed. She gave a mewl of protest, but I turned my attention to the intricate wooden chest. It was much like the one he had given me in his bedroom before, except this box was larger and unwrapped.

"A gift?" I asked, my voice wary. I remembered his last one, something I thought I would treasure forever. Instead, it was a reminder of his betrayal, and its cold bite still rested against my chest.

"Of sorts. I found it when I was in the south dealing with the rebellion there last week." He gave me a rueful smile. "It reminded me of you." His voice was soft, almost as if he daren't speak the words.

Inexplicably, heat rose in my belly, and my chest felt as if it would burst.

I wanted to cut out my treacherous heart and throw it on the carpet.

It wasn't me he was speaking to, but Sanaya. It wasn't me he thought about, but the creature I had created. And still, my face flushed with his attention, my pulse beat wildly. It was as if my heart couldn't reconcile with my head and it was the thing controlling all my emotions. I tried to cut it off, as if I could stop the flow of blood to the organ lodged in my chest that was the reason for all my weakness. But still, my fingers shook as I opened the box.

Inside a dagger blazed, smooth camel bone fashioned into a cobra head, an elegant curved blade with a silver filigree sheath.

A knife. He'd given the girl who wore jewels a blade just like he'd given the swordfighter a necklace. At least he was consistent in his contrariness.

"I don't know what to say." My voice was trapped. "It's beautiful."

Beautiful was too inadequate a word. The camel bone was polished to gleaming, the cobra so detailed I could nearly feel its scales beneath my fingers.

"I knew you'd like it." He watched me with dark eyes, his expression closed. I shut the box with a thud that echoed between us. I swallowed past the thickness in my throat, past this uncomfortable sensation I couldn't quite put my finger on. It couldn't be guilt, not when he had done so much to me. Not when he deserved what I was about to do to him.

"I love it," I bit off, knowing I had to say something in response.

It was a lie, and I could hear it in my words. Because right then, I hated that knife with every inch of my skin. I hated that it made me think of him as human, as someone who buys something thoughtful for someone he's thinking about. And mostly, I didn't know whether I wanted to kiss him for giving it to me or wrap my fingers around the hilt and plunge it into his chest.

Mazin moved closer, his dark presence like a shadow, the relief of shade on a hot day. I put the box down and pressed my gloved palms into my thighs, my thoughts a riot of confusion. For one moment I closed my eyes to make everything stop, and I savored the sudden silence.

And in it, I heard that voice again.

Revenge.

My hands burned from where the dark curling stains were. This time, the voice was a soft whisper. It sounded suspiciously familiar, though I couldn't place it exactly. And since no one else ever heard it but me, I'd come to realize the voice was coming from inside my head.

But it was so hard to remember I was here for revenge when Mazin surrounded me with all the memories that had made me love him.

My eyelids fluttered open and Mazin came back into view.

I needed to trust my gut. That was the one thing that had gotten me through every battle, every fight.

I leaned into him, savoring the familiar between us. In his room, surrounded by him, surrounded by me .

Then his hands, those calluses on my shoulders, cupping my jaw.

He kissed me, his lips meeting mine in a question, one that I answered readily. I pushed down any of the trepidation I felt and just thought purely of him . Of the way he made me feel, of the sounds in the back of his throat when he pressed me against him. I kissed him back with everything I had, and suddenly it wasn't enough, and we were flying together, spiraling down a mountain of anger and passion and such fierce longing I could barely breathe.

And then the sick churning in the pit of my stomach, that gnawing growing deeper, darker, like an abyss ready to swallow me whole. And all the while the same thought kept replaying in the forefront of my mind.

He thinks you are someone else.

He thinks you are someone else.

My insides roiled. My mouth tasted of ash. I pushed away from him with everything I had, practically throwing him against the wall.

Our heavy breaths filled the silence of the room. His dark eyes were wild as they took me in, lips red from our kiss.

"I can't," I said desperately, not caring about his response. I couldn't go down this road, no matter what my vengeance was. Every part of my body rebelled against what I was doing, against who I was becoming.

If I led him here, Mazin wouldn't be truly saying yes. He wouldn't have agreed to be with me but with Sanaya.

"I can't," I repeated, touching my hands to my swollen lips, letting my words hang in the air. Then I raced out of the room, not bothering to wait for a response, not taking the dagger he'd just given me, desperate to escape this fate I'd built for myself.