Hesi massaged her neck, striding out of Yobekh's lengthy lecture about Mayaware child-rearing. She glanced at the brides who chatted with one another, congratulating each other for living through the ordeal. The threat of losing their lives hung over their heads, but the naïve corner of their minds dared to hope that they were the chosen bride and would therefore keep their lives.

But Hesi knew.

They would die today.

"Hesi, which fruit do you like for the midday meal?" Isueri sidled close and clutched her arm. The woman's doe-like eyes blinked up at her since she stood inches shorter than Hesi. "I bet you love a good charbi."

The memory of the bright red succulents she harvested on her last day with her siblings came to mind. It took everything in her to tamp an oncoming wince. She smiled at the woman instead. "It doesn't matter. I like anything," she replied. "What about Barteset?"

Through the months of interacting with the brides, Hesi found out she could deflect any unwanted attention by pointing to the older woman. The others would naturally float towards her and forget about Hesi. Though she only did it when they asked her questions she didn't want to answer or ones she simply didn't have answers to.

But Isueri wasn't deterred. The brides loitered by the bridal palace, waiting for her. She didn't see them do that. Not once. They usually went out on their business as soon as Yobekh's lecture ended. Hesi would then be free to tear off the group and bug Kharta instead.

"We never got to thank you." Tagara came up to Hesi and took her hand. "For more than the combat lesson."

Khono, with her desert-blonde hair and impish smile, joined Tagara and laid a gentle hand on Hesi's arm. Hesi never interacted with her, but since Rehema and Semret died, she and Otraqte drew nearer. "You may not realize it, but you gave us something important during these trying months," she said. "You gave us strength."

"Courage," Petra added.

"And perhaps, the most important thing of all." Barteset's chin rose, and her gaze leveled when she pushed past the younger women and came up before Hesi. "Hope."

Hesi averted her eyes. What would they feel once they realize the things Hesi knew? When she failed to kill Mezo despite the chance he afforded her, when she doomed the brides to a life cut short? No secret would stay hidden for eternity. No lie would live on to become the truth.

"I'm sorry for slapping you." Asrate's voice, usually deep, bordered on discordant. "It was the heat of the moment, and I—"

She didn't get to finish when Hesi lurched forward, heart on her throat. Their bodies knocked together as Hesi threw her arms around Asrate's neck, holding on for dear life. Tears threatened to fall, but she held them back. They weren't because of happiness. Regret, guilt, and shame. They were that kind of tears.

Asrate, not sensing something was wrong, patted Hesi's back. The brides gathered and squashed each other with open arms and warmth. They didn't know. They wouldn't know what Hesi did, but she should tell them. It was the last thing she could do before the Mayaware soldiers seized them as the High Prince declared Hesi as the winning bride.

They broke off, and Hesi opened her mouth. Through Asrate's shoulders, she glimpsed frantic soldiers and human servants bustling from the trading courtyard. They stopped with their heads craned towards the general direction of Berhqet's gates. She pushed past Asrate and trudged towards the increasing traffic. The other brides exchanged confused looks and joined her.

Together, they tore through the crowd, keeping their heads and eyes peeled for anything that caused the stir. They passed gardens and demon-made ponds until they came to a wider courtyard near the gates. She had only been here once when she first entered the royal capital. And now, she was here again.

The brides' gasps echoed in the hollow chambers of her brain. She followed the direction their gazes pointed to. Her heart stopped cold. Everything was red. Only red.

Kharta was there, but the blood painting on the walls and pooling around him in a half-dried puddle told her he wasn't. He wouldn't be here anymore. His body slumped against the wooden gates. His spine snapped first, but it didn't kill him. An enormous chunk of his torso, including an arm, was missing. The curved bite marks tearing through his exposed ribs told her a demon did it. His eyes remained open. His mouth hung open, giving way to more streams of blood. Flies flitted past, kissing his pale gray skin. Cold. She didn't need to approach to know he was cold. His fire flickered and snuffed out.

Kharta was gone.

When she stepped forward, her knees gave out without permission. She sprawled forward, bursting past the crowd's rim. The scent of burned sand mixed with rust and ash wafted to her senses, sending bile up her throat and tears to her eyes. Shadows danced around her, mocking her gasping breaths, her silent wails, and her chest's tight squeezing as she pounded her fist against it.

The whispers around her heightened, populated by the broken chatters of Mayaware soldiers and human servants. This man was a traitor. He tried to kill the High King last night. How? Poison. Plunge the King into a dreamless sleep leading to his eventual death. Evil. Vile.

Treason.

It was nothing of the sort. She understood what this meant. It was as clear as the sunlight shining from an uncaring heaven, drying up Kharta's blood and turning the once-vibrant hue to a dull tinge of maroon. It was a message. A warning.

A consequence for a trial failed.

Mezo gave her his answer. Now, she would give him hers.

With tears scorching a trail down her cheeks, she staggered up and stumbled away from the crowd. Back to the bridal palace. Back to where her power was. A hand gripped her wrist, and she turned to see Asrate's concerned face. "Where are you going?" the woman asked, voice laced with concern Hesi didn't deserve.

She yanked her hand off Asrate's clutches. "Somewhere you don't want to go," she replied with a hiss. Mezophis. That scum of a demon. So devious until the end. If he wanted to die so much, fine. She would kill him. She would see him writhe so badly his scales cracked. He would beg her for mercy, and she would give him none.

It takes a monster to kill a monster, but to make a monster was to kill the innocent. For Kharta, for her weakness—she would gladly be a monster everyone feared. This was her fault. She had her chance for salvation and didn't take it. Now, she must carry his blood on her hands. For eternity.

I'll take all the blame the world has for me so you can live without worry. He told her that and got what he wanted.

Asrate's cries faded behind her, lost in the rasps of her sandals against dusty floors. At some point, the other brides followed her into the communal room. Hesi unearthed the sheathed dagger and drew it out, tossing the useless scabbard aside. She didn't hear it clatter or skitter to a stop. She reached up and held the earring still dangling on her lobe. With all her might, she yanked it out. Never mind the pain it brought or the warm torrents of blood staining her shoulder and dress. Never mind the alarmed gasps in her wake.

Nothing mattered now. Nothing, except the end of the High King's reign.

She slammed the earring against the dagger. Glass shattered. A sickly shade of periwinkle dripped down the deadly edge and stuck to it. Good. Just what she needed. Undiluted anger burned in her veins, eating all her reason and burning what remained of her soul. She was a monster, and she was out to kill.

The brides scrambled out of her way as she marched out of the bridal palace. The walls, gardens, and people blurred in her periphery. The guards at the prince's quarters met her with spears and demonic forms. Scales and fangs lashed out at her, but they proved futile under her blade's rage. Black smoke curled around her feet when she slashed at their neck, separating their heads from their shoulders with a satisfying rip.

She didn't need to push the slab of rock in her way because Mezo did it himself. The prince stepped out of the darkness and smiled at her. "It is the villain's win," he said.

Red painted her vision. She lunged and pinned him against the wall. He didn't fight, even when she poised a dagger coated with poison under his chin. Tears blurred her senses, but she saw with clarity a triumphant grin on his lips. Ivory fangs flashed in the meager sunlight streaming from the lush gardens.

She hooked her leg around his and pulled. His weight cracked the stone floor when he slammed into it. "You filthy demon," she seethed. Was she angry at him for pushing her and killing Khart, or was she angry at herself for letting him? She didn't know. Not anymore. "You scum of the earth."

"You know," Mezo breathed. Once. Twice. As though he enjoyed it while he could. "In any other life, I will choose you as my bride. Always."

Her grip on the dagger faltered. Instead of lashing at her, he slid a hand on her cheek. Her heart stopped. Hitched. "I never stood a chance, did I?" he muttered as though he drank cups of zadi through the night. "Your heart will always be his, and I will always be at the other end of the bridge, too far to reach you."

A scream tore off her lips, and she drove the dagger into Mezo's chest, right where human hearts should be. He was a demon; he didn't have one. "You stupid brute." Her lips quivered as she watched his skin hiss against the sharp edge of her blade. Beige turned onyx. "My heart has always been yours. The both of you."

A clawed hand wrapped around hers, urging her to stab deeper. To twist it around until he couldn't handle the pain. "Take control of the palace and unravel Iren-Washep from here," he murmured, his eyes closing. His grip on her hand didn't loosen. "Use the High King's head to get them to follow you. Use mine."

She sobbed. "Shut up." She heaved a breath, but her chest refused to cooperate. "You don't get to tell me what to do. You don't."

Mezo smiled, his features morphing to resemble a snake more than a bald human. "We both got what we wanted." His eyelids drooped further, his slitted pupils dilating. "Just not in the way we imagined."

She opened her mouth but he drew a sharp breath and chuckled. It was barely a wheeze. "I know the word to describe what I feel for you." He stared up at her with a tenderness she could never return. "It is love, isn't it?"

Her eyes widened. A gasp filtered out. The prince's head lolled sideways, and his grip slackened. His hand fell to his side, never to move again. His body exploded into wisps of black smoke flecked with white stars. She stepped back, watching the demon's puru flicker in the sunlight before dissipating, leaving no traces behind.

She followed the trail of stars rising to the sky. "Yes, it is," she answered. Nobody heard her. Not even the little birds with colorful feathers darting across the garden. "It was."