She could make herself something monstrous. She could be a creature born of poison and pyre, flame and blood. She had told Aditya that when the opportunity to seize power came—to wield it—the opportunity had to be taken and held and used. If he would not wield it, she would. If he would not take their brother’s throne, in that room of sweet falling jasmine where the sisters of her heart had burned, then she would do it.
