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To look upon the worst and see the best is true sight. To behold the whole and find no flaw, only then can one be right. —Love From a Blind Prince
“I know spirits scare you, even if you don’t admit it. You’re right to be wary of them. So, I’ve found one who will take care of your soul.”
Sometimes I wonder if anyone else understands what it’s like to feel both unconditional love and such deep hatred for the same person.
I want to learn about everything. Knowledge is an addiction, and books are my drug of choice.
It takes restraint not to sift through all her memories, because suddenly, that warm light is all I want. What a cruel little beast, for making me feel this way.
The cold deepens behind me, and I swear, ice cracks from somewhere as the dark spirit growls, “You cruel little beast.” I shove my fear down like everything else and turn to look over my shoulder at the dead end of the hall, above my guards’ heads where the dark spirit hovers. Raising my dagger up, I point its blade at where his frigid essence mists the air. “Say that again. I dare you.” The mist stiffens as if surprised but doesn’t make another sound as I slip back into my rooms, trying and failing to check my temper.
My brother may be the chosen heir—his charisma and military skillset, lethal—but Father made it clear to me. Dagen is the face of Zarr, and I am the bloody, deceptive hand keeping him on the throne, because Father and I both know Dagen has too much of Mother in him. —Lo
“There’s good inside every bad.” She looks at me, her young eyes flickering with ageless wisdom. “Like you. You are my good inside the bad.” Her smile wobbles a bit as she brushes her slave garb. “I’m really glad to have you.”
words so I can hear that voice again. “You know nothing about my desires.” “I know all about your desires when your little, pink friend is gone. You desire to win the King’s Duel. I am very powerful. I could help you do that, Nizzara.”
I hate heights. I hate them because the first time my father lost control of his anger—the first time I ever felt truly endangered from him—was on top of the castle’s roof so many years ago. I swallow that memory and lock it away. Dae’s spirit shifts, spreading. Darkening. The temperature drops around me, and I swear ice cracks up the black exterior walls of my tower.
His voice is strained in the air. “What makes you happy, Nizzara?” “What?” His words are tortured. Desperate. “Give me a happy memory.”
“Why?! Why do you treat me like I am nothing to you?” Her stance instantly shifts into an offensive position, her balled fists shaking at her sides. “Because you are not mine!” she shouts.
“Nizzara,“ he purrs, his voice an instant muscle relaxer. “I assure you, just because I am older, more experienced, and all around devilishly handsome, I would only corrupt you if you verbally consented to my corrupting.”
“I’ve seen monsters, Nizzara, and you are not one of them. A little beast maybe, but not a monster.”
“To look upon the worst and see the best is true sight.” Dae goes stone still before he whispers, “To behold the whole and find no flaws, only then can one be right.” He whispers, “Love from a Blind Prince.”
I should be inside the castle, giving her compliments, making her laugh, promising her the King’s Duel. Doing everything to earn her trust. The only problem with that—the biggest fucking problem here—is that the smiles, the compliments, the laughs are real.
Gaining her trust. That’s the only reason I’m in my physical form, rummaging through the kitchens.
“What is she?” I grind out. “What is a pure soul?” “There are many names for what she is,” he says from all directions. “She is like me. Born of high power.” I hear the malicious smile in his voice.
“She said a soft heart is only a liability when the mind is soft too.”
Jasper gives me a dark, sad nod. “Cannibals.” “Why? What causes them to be this way?” “No one knows. It starts as a sickness of bone, contorting people into hunchbacks, then, after a while, they just . . . lose their minds.”
Yisabell’s hand touches my shoulder, and I turn to face her. She touches the snake ring still wrapped around my finger. “I will take this pain for you, my friend,” she says in Awom.
Dagen returned home. He looked awful. I would’ve chalked it up to the fact that he’s been at war with the demons at our borders, but I found him in the memorial room. Sitting by Mother’s statue. He let me sit with him. After a while, I asked what was wrong. He told me Kathreen really wants children, but a healer confirmed he isn’t capable of bearing them. Of all the problems I’m capable of fixing, I really wish I could fix this one. Because if anyone deserves to be a father, it’s my brother.
“You have power. I know you’ve felt it. But once you make the decision to tap into it—” “That’s not going to happen.” “It will,” she says softly. “When it does, gods, creatures, and souls will hunt you like the last ray of hope in a dying world. They will snuff you. And you are not strong enough to withstand it.”
“Please do not get yourself killed out of spite. I will give you space. I will not bother you, but please allow me to continue protecting you. Despite what you think of me, I love you, Nizzara.”
“You wish me to prove it?” he whispers, and I swear his lips are by my ear. “Yes.” His presence moves around the onyx tub, toward the gloom-filled windows that look out above the fog. He materializes. Into a fucking man. A beautifully dark-haired, hazel-eyed, smirking— Dae. Short for Dagen. King Dagen.
“Do you usually assault men with daggers while wearing racy nightgowns? Because if so, I’ve been hanging out in the wrong social circles.”
I’ve been crushing on Dagen this entire time. I want to pull him into a hug with one hand and help Lo claw Kathreen’s eyes out with the other hand.
“The only way I can go is if I’m hidden inside your shield, because I have a feeling he can sense me just like you can. Not to mention, he’s bonded to a god.” I balk. “A god?” “Do you know nothing of vessels? That’s what makes the First-Made.” “Which god?” “Not any god I want to know.”
“A second date,” he says. “Must be serious.” His voice has an edge to it this morning that wasn’t there last night. When Preysee leaves for my perfumes, I mutter, “Jealous?” “Brutal honesty?” I shoot him a look that says, “Duh.” He’s standing behind me as I face my full-length mirror, and his velvet words caress my skin. “Annoyingly so.”
Her warm pocket of air nudges me, softer—weaker—than days ago. “When you are alone, go to the book Soriah left. It will tell you of one side of your lineage. Your father left it there for you in case he—” She takes a deep breath. “In case she consumes him. Every second I’m not with you, I’m with him, staving off the inevitable. He’s losing the battle, but he thinks there’s someone in the Tatum realm that can—”
I’ve seen her loyalty, seen her friendships. She would bring down the three kingdoms for Yisabell, or Preysee, or even Liha, at the drop of a hat. That is the kind of loyalty I’d burn worlds for.
“Use me.” Liha’s voice is a whisper. “Take what’s left, my friend. And end him.” “I will not.” Something tells me if I use what Liha has pooled into me, it will end her.
Dae is at my ear. “Don’t you dare fucking die.”
In this moment, when each rise of her chest could be her last, I know. There’s nothing I won’t do to keep her soul from leaving her body.
“You can’t win the first duel without dancing at least once afterward.” I offer my hand, a new song coming to life below us.
He materializes directly in front of me, so suddenly I smack into him. He glares down at me. “Do not twist my words. I’ve seen every type of woman. Elf, fairy, warrior, priestess, and witch. I’ve been to all seven realms and you”—he wipes my tears, brushing his thumb across my cheek—“are the only one who returned some warmth to my chest.”
“I do. I want everything that has to do with you. I want your death glare pointed at me. I want that damn lip to myself. I want your black eyes and menacing hands all over me. Your smile. Your anger. Your tears. All of it.” He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “And that’s why I can’t have any part of you.”
“Fast or slow?” I whisper. She bites her lip in a way that tells me she knows exactly what it does to me, then says, “Both.” I nearly growl, “You cruel little beast.” And I kiss her.
“Gravera,” I pant. “The goddess of grief.”
His dark, velvety touch brushes my shoulder. “Do you trust me?” I open my shield to him.
“You will always be afraid of the dark part of yourself if you never face it.”
“Wala is her mother,” I say. Liha nods. “And Nil touched her in the womb.”
She peers down at Nizzara as if this will be the last time she will see her. “She won’t use me in the ring, so I will offer the rest of myself to her father.” She returns to a ball of light. “You’re going to leave her in the hands of a deathwalker?” “I can only sense strong desires, but I’ve known yours for a while, Dagen.”
“Nizzara,” she says, her voice like a song, her hair white, her eyes black. “My daughter.” I recognize her with sudden clarity. Wala.
“There is a war, much bigger than the three kingdoms. Me and my people cannot fight it, for we can give life, but not take it. You will be capable of both. That is the darkness you fear.” Her eyes harden. “It is a heavy burden, to be made of life and carry death in your veins. For that, I am sorry. It was the only pathway.”
“I will kiss you, until tomorrow. I will hold you until your nightmares are gone. I will give you my crown and my kingdom, Nizzara, as soon as you prove you’ll survive after I’m gone.”
“You’re fucking beautiful when you’re pointing a dagger at me.”
“I choose you, Dagen. I want every moment I have left with you.”
“As much as I love to see you bite your lip, don’t. I need to hear you scream for me, Nizzara.”
She will marry Lekk. And she will die. But her son. He is the King of all Kings.
