Page 118 of Jewel of the Assassin

All my muscles flex as my spine straightens. The lash marks scream like sharp, flaming knives. It’s only been two days, but they still hurt like the devil.

But none of it matters. Not whenshetiptoes into the dungeon, leaving the door slightly ajar. God, the sight of her makes it hard to breathe. But I still tip my head back and inhale a deep breath of her perfume, the kind she has made. Midnight saffron and smoldering musk, the black hemlock, opium, and the dark promise of something unseen. Unseen freedom. The promise we both cling to.

“Esli ya znaio, chto takoe lyubov, to tolko blagodarya tebe,” I say as she approaches the cell, not daring to look at her yet. Not ready for my chest to cave in, for her to unravel me.

“What does that mean?” she asks softly her voice….weak.

“If I know what love is, it is only because of you,Moya Samotsvet.”

“We don’t have long. Zina…she managed to create a diversion with Shalun in the security room, and Levka handled the guard with his mushrooms, and your mother is waiting for me. More people are coming every day, and?—”

“Valya.”

Now, I look.

I see beyond her beauty, beyond the gold dress she’s donned for me, displaying her crown brand—as if she’s trying to prove she is still my queen, my jewel.

?????! It’s the first time I haven’t seen her lift her chin. It’s the first time her posture looks defeated, her eyes filled with regret, shame, guilt.

“What did he do?” I growl.

She breaks. Bloody Christ, she crumbles to the floor, her trembling hand reaching for mine through the bars. I strain until the chains bite into my wrists, cursing the heavens when only an inch of air remains between us. I cannot give her my strength. I cannot give her anything.

“Roman.” Her voice splinters, torn in half by her sobs. “I’m sorry. I should have seen it. I should have known he was manipulating me.”

“Valentina.” I summon her, my tone sharp, commanding—the one she knows belongs only to me.

And just like that, a fragile light pierces my chest. Hope. Pride. She lifts her chin, eyes locking with mine through the veil of tears. She still answers when I call. She still bends to me. Still gives me her surrender. And it’s enough to goddamn wreck me.

“Eyes on me, Valentina. Listen well. You never apologize. You are not to blame. Not for any of it. You will not carry the weight of my brother’s sins, nor mine. He can claim our bodies—our flesh, our blood—but he will never own our hearts. And our souls, Valentina Makarova…our souls are already one. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Horosho devochka.”

She wipes her tears away, touches the bar, and raises her chin. Da, there is my Koroleva. I keep one hand braced on my thigh, the other open, fingers curled, imitating the act of holding her hand. Her left hand mirrors mine.

And then? She breaks open, spilling everything. Every word about two nights ago—what my brother did, what he took—sets my blood ablaze.

For God’s sake! “I’ll carve out his tongue, his eyes, Valya,” I vow. “I’ll break his nose and jaw. Leave nothing but his ears so he can hear you scream while you’re riding my dick—on his dying, worthless, goddamned corpse.”

“I’d like that.” A flush heats her cheeks, and she…fucking smiles. A soft smile. One with a hint of sorrow. Fuck, it carves me open like a cold blade. “Zina and Mikhail and I…we’ve tried so many things, but we can’t find a way to break free. Not without endangering everyone else. I don’t know what to do, Roman. I do-don’t kn-know what to do.” She buries her head in her hands. Not in defeat or sorrow. No, I read the infuriation from her digging her nails into her scalp.

“I am to blame for all of this,” I tell her. “You have every right to hate me.” I lower my head.

“Roman Makarova.”

Her tone is like silk-wrapped steel. No, harder. She’s a goddamn diamond. My Jewel levels me with her gaze. No hint of softness. Just pure-driven grit worthy of an empress. Gripping the bars with both hands, she hisses, “You listen and you listen well. I couldneverhate you, Moya Korona. You took me from purgatory. You gave me a family, a home, a kingdom. From the second I woke up, and you put the ring on my finger, I was yours. You called me your Queen that first day, that first hour. It just took a little time before I knew you were mine.”

One side of my mouth tugs into a smile. “When did you know, Valya?”

She blushes more, so lovely, so exquisite. My bride forever.

“Maybe when you saved me from the landmine and fucked me boneless. Or the time I stabbed that miserable piece of shit trespasser to death, and you caught mered-handed.” Her laugh sparkles. How I’ve missed that laugh. “But no. It was after the trespasser. In the hot spring. When you called me your soul.”

“Da, muzh - golová, zhená - dushá.”Husband is the head, the wife is the soul.

She still has every right. The right to share my pain, to suffer with me. The right to protect me. She is my divine right…in everything.