Page 25 of Humans Don’t Have Horns (A Crown of Blood and Magic #1)

The duke has a formidable air about him.

It radiates from him and not from the massive gold jewelry he wears.

He is much taller than me, but at fifteen, I have not yet fully grown.

He resembles my mother, his face as noble and handsome as hers was, and he always holds himself gracefully in a manner that projects power.

But the hardship of the last year has left its mark on him.

His golden hair is now partly silver, and there is a deep crease between his eyebrows, as he frowns too often.

“It is settled. The guards will remain outside the room, no matter what sound comes. But if he manages to open the door, they will kill you, Dahav.” His entire posture is taut as he speaks.

I rub my thumb on the tender flesh in my palm, where the rays of the Sun’s charm wounded me the deepest. “Will you pray for me?”

He sighs and shakes his head. “Praying will not help us now, my niece. It is time,” and he hands me a small knife. The golden hilt is carved with the face of Sun .

“Praying for Sun always helps, for how can we fight the darkness that surrounds us without finding the light within?” I say as I take the knife from him. He smiles a small smile at me that doesn’t reach his golden-yellow eyes. I know he’s not religious. But still, he is good. For a nobleman.

“I will never marry,” I tell him because I will not start my quest for light in a lie, and I know he will want to marry me to his eldest, Shemesh, to rule through me. People often confuse my young age and religious devotion with naivete. I haven’t been naive for years now.

He takes his time in answering, his voice gentle. “There will be time for these decisions later.”

“I will never marry. Please know you can still change your mind,” I declare solemnly. I don’t want him to feel deceived later on.

“No, I can’t, and neither can you,” he urges “If you are not queen, we will both have to pray for our deaths.” When I remain quiet, his gaze finds the small window beside me, his expression pained as he says without meeting my eyes, “Not all men are as your father was.”

I stiffen at that. I do not call that man my father.

And I don’t need Nass to commiserate. I needed it to stop, and it didn’t.

So they can all save their pity for themselves.

But I summon my calm tone. “I know. But I will no longer let a man, good or bad, control my faith,” I say, and the implication that I won’t let him control me hangs in the air.

He looks at me somberly for a long moment and says nothing, nodding slowly in acceptance.

He is a good ally, and he will be an asset in my rule of Kozari.

***

My servants primp me thoroughly. My nails are painted gold, as are my lips, eyelashes, and eyebrows.

My golden hair is brushed a thousand times.

My teeth are sparkling white like pearls as I smile sweetly, the result of great care.

My pants are low enough to show my belly button and the gold chain that leads from it to my nose.

The knife is hidden at the back of my shirt by my veil.

My servants spray me with rosewater. I am barefoot, like all women at the palace.

We are not allowed out, so Ashar said we have no need for shoes.

Of course, it is very cold in Kozari, even now in summer, and being barefoot and with little clothing is a great inconvenience.

Two of my servants walk silently behind me, holding the train of my veil as we make our way to Zorer’s quarters. When we get there, Zorer’s servants announce my arrival. One must be a foul master to have Kozari servants betray him. In Kozari, honor and loyalty to one’s house are above all.

Zorer is twice my size. Succeeding in killing him will be a miracle.

Nass showed me on his eldest, Shemesh, where it is best to attack a man.

But that is not even the beginning of the training that someone my size needs to defeat those of Zorer’s size.

Kozari honor dictates the battle for the crown will be direct.

Therefore, poisoning Zorer or killing him in his sleep is not an option.

Only Renyans act in such manners. If Sun does not help me, I will soon be dead.

“I swear you are the most beautiful thing in Amada, niece,” Zorer calls as he sees me, leering at me with no shame.

I feel bile rising at the sight of him, but I giggle and cover my mouth with my hand, an act of modesty and embarrassment expected of a Kozari woman.

Always demure and meek. He devours me with his eyes, and I focus on not gagging.

Soon he is so occupied with talking of himself and how he will favor me once he becomes king that he doesn’t even ask why I’ve asked to see him.

I prepared a speech explaining my desire for his patronage, but I just let him ramble instead.

I giggle and bat my eyelashes at everything he says.

And he gets more and more caught up in his self-importance.

He slithers closer to me and grabs my breast, and I swiftly plunge the knife deep in his stomach. “One hit is all you get,” Nass told me. But Zorer is so big and fat that stabbing him in the stomach was a deadly mistake. He is bleeding but not enough.

“You ungrateful whore,” he hisses at me as his fist lands on my nose.

I collapse in pain. He lays a strong punch to my right ear, and I can no longer hear his curses and foul words.

Only a strong wheezing sound while my ear bleeds.

I crawl away from him, and he kicks me in the stomach, quickly followed by my face.

I spit out several teeth and do my best not to choke on my blood.

I keep crawling away from him. He pulls the knife from his stomach and approaches me to finish the job.

But Sun shines its light, and Zorer slips on the puddle of my blood.

He drops the knife as his heavy body falls to the floor.

I grab it, plunge it into his throat, and finally bring light to Kozari.