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She was just a human, slated to die within a few decades anyway. I didn’t know her name, and a day ago, I wouldn’t have thought it worth knowing. But I was wrong. We haveallbeen wrong. Humans aren’t just slaves to free. They’re not the coarse, slow creatures I’ve been taught to think of them as.

I cover my eyes with a hand, and I weep.

For Malaki, for this woman, for this misguided life of mine.

I’ve been so busy trying to fill the world with my hate that I’ve left no room for anything else.

Tonight, that changes.

I swear to the Undying Gods that once I’m able to, I will scour the earth for my soulmate. I’ll put my past behind me and focus on the future. And when I find her—ifI find her—I won’t waste time fearing what others will think. I’ll cherish her, respect her,loveher.

For all the days of her mortal life, I’ll claim her as mine.

Chapter 7

To Kill a King

220 years ago

The day ofreckoning has come.

I can’t say how many nights I fantasized about facing my father, but I’m sure that in every one of them, I was more bloodthirsty than I am now.

Today, I’m simply determined.

The royal guards collect me from the waiting room I’ve been sitting in for the last several hours and lead me across the palace grounds, their faces stoic.

We mount the castle steps, my black leather armor shining dully under the stars, and then I’m passing through the bronze double doors.

I can hear the steady thrum of my pulse like a drumbeat. I’m either walking out of this place with my father’s head, or I’m not walking out of here at all.

The closed doors of the throne room loom ahead. The soldiers and I come to a halt in front of them while we wait to be seen. It takes nearly twenty minutes, but eventually I hear the muffled words of the official announcing my presence. A moment later, the doors are thrown open, and I’m escorted in.

I lift my chin. I want to him to see my face. To recognize me after all these years.

The king lounges on his throne, his attention turned to an aid at his side. Behind him, guards line the back wall. Off to either side of the dais are a few of his concubines, recognizable by their immense beauty and sheer outfits, their skin rubbed with gossamer to shimmer under the light.

I get all the way down the aisle, and then the guards that surround me halt. The king still hasn’t bothered to look at me.

I bend a knee and bow my head.

I wait another minute before I’m addressed.

“Ah, our victorious soldier,” the king finally says, his attention now most certainly on me, “who wounded one of the Day Kingdom’s heirs and saved his company from an ambush. Two cuffs for a single act. Impressive.”

Even though he hasn’t recognized me at this point, I can tell he doesn’t like me. Annoyance and even a bit of sarcasm are rolled into his voice. There is probably nothing more peevish to a tyrant than a man who is actually honorable.

Not that I’m that man. But I savor his displeasure, regardless.

“This is not your first war cuff either, I see,” he continues.

I feel the weight of that first one on my arm. It represents years of scheming and fighting and hoping. It represents bitter disappointment and a missed opportunity—one that will be rectified today.

“Rise.”

Calm washes over me.

I stand, my head the last thing to straighten. For the first time in three decades, my eyes meet my father’s.