AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The orchid sits on my hand. For a long while, it does not move, and I exhale, ready to set aside my blade. Then, as I start to turn, the wind plucks the flower from my palm and sweeps its petals up across my cheek to my forehead. The motion is tender, like the brush of Vanna’s fingers on my skin.
Then the orchid falls on my spear.
Before, I would dismiss such a gesture as merely the wind. But there’s a tingle that races across my skin, and I know it is more than mere chance.
“Thank you, sister,” I utter, still softly. “And forgive me. This will be the last time I put blade to skin. The last time I shall bring forth the poison in my blood. I will be good, as you asked of me. I will love more.”
I look skyward, and I bow once to Mama, once to Vanna. Then I raise the blade to my forehead, just above my eyebrow, and wait until my hands stop shaking. For all my strength, my spear has never felt as heavy as it does now.
With a deep breath, I pierce into my flesh. And cut.
The pain doesn’t come right away. I get as far as across the ridge of my nose before the backs of my eyes begin to burn, and my skin sings in protest. I finish quickly, moving down across my cheek before I drop the spear and hurry to the water bowl.
Blood clings to my lashes and mixes with my tears. All the times I’ve cut into my scales to gouge them out, I have never cried. This time, I cannot hold back the pain.
I bite down on my lip and watch my reflection in the bowl. The pearl’s silvery light bathes my face, already working to heal its wound.
No, I seethe, fighting against the light. Let me have this.
With my spear, I trace the cut on my face. My blood bubbles up again, thicker than before. So many times I tried using its poison to burn away my scales, always in vain. Then again, I have never tried to use it as a cure.
I drag my finger down, smearing blood across my gash. The pearl hisses, its light trying to stitch up my broken skin, but it cannot touch the rivulet of blood that streams down my face. Every time it comes close, I retrace the line in blood. I hold on to the lesson the snakes taught me when I was young: Not all poisons are bad. Sometimes, they can make for the most unexpected medicines.
I never thought my poison—the strongest known on earth—could heal anything. But Gadda help me, if I’m to live, I will not be a prisoner to my own skin.
“You will not win,” I whisper to the pearl through my teeth. “This is not…my…face!”
Finally, the light recedes into my heart, defeated.
On my face, a shiny white scar forms. I touch it. It is slightly raised, with rough ridges that remind me of the scales I once bore. The scales I once wished so hard to be rid of.
It’s ghastly. Impossible to hide. But to me, it is victory enough. It’s a tear in the mask, a piece of the real me for all to see.
I will never let it go.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Word of my scar travels across Sundau, then Tambu, then the rest of Lor’yan. If I thought it would stamp out any interest in me, I was wrong. The stories spread, and everyone wonders why my light has changed. Why it is now silver like the moon instead of golden like the sun. Slowly, they stop calling me the Golden One, and new names for me appear in songs and tales. I would list them, but I despise them all.
Before long, the suitors come swarming again. Ships upon ships visit Sundau. Merchants, lords—even a gang of bandits who try to kidnap me in my sleep. They gagged my mouth and carried me out of my bed, trying to smother my light with blankets. They got as far as my door before I turned them into rats. Ukar and his kin had a heavy breakfast that morning.
Anyone can see that I am different. I’m not the docile, exuberant daughter Adah has touted to the world. No. I never smile, I never bow—even to the kings and queens who come to visit—and I rarely even speak, unless I must.
In private, Adah pleads with me to be warmer. “You will start a war with that grimace,” he says. “I know you mourn your sister, but how long must you stay sequestered in your room? You must marry, Vanna. Do you wish our fortunes to crumble?”
“I don’t give a damn about our fortunes.”
Adah is stricken by my words. In the past, he wouldn’t have tolerated such defiance, but now he does not dare to argue. He fears me, though he does not know why.
In the past few months, I’ve begun to master the pearl’s power. I can make a dozen minds yield to me with just a look, and I have even begun to meddle with memories. I know this is just the beginning. The glow of my light is harsh; it is more brilliant, more intense, than Vanna’s ever was. Cross me, and it’ll burn.
It would be easy for me to fashion myself a sorcerer queen, formidable beyond anything Angma could have dreamed. But that is not what I want.
I regard my father. “You wish me to marry, Adah?”
A fervent nod.
“Then begin the selection once more. I will choose whoever can make me smile.”
