Zabina
I sink into the warm bath until the water covers my shoulders. I close my eyes, and my father's last words repeat in my head like an endless mantra:
"We have to go. Now."
"Never trust a black dragon."
"Run, Zabina."
The gem on my chest glows with a faint silver light, as if responding to my agitation.
I don't know how to silence the voices.
I don't know how to quiet the fear that has followed me my whole life.
I step out of the bath, water dripping from my body. I stand in front of the mirror and look at my reflection: wet hair clinging to my skin, eyes full of doubt, the gem shining between my breasts like an accusation.
I make a decision.
I will speak with Higmer.
In the morning, I approach the eunuch Higmer threatened the day before.
The man keeps his gaze lowered, nervous.
"I need to speak with Higmer," I say quietly but firmly. "Tell him I'll be waiting in the outer garden at two o'clock sharp."
The eunuch nods without looking up.
"Yes, my lady."
I enter my chambers and pace the room with my hands clasped behind my back, my heart pounding.
Stema enters with breakfast and another lady-in-waiting. I approach them with a smile I don't feel, and we sit at the table.
They talk about fabrics, perfumes, the preparations for the coronation. I barely hear them.
I arrive at the outer garden at the agreed time.
The place is quiet at this hour.
The eunuch stays behind as Higmer appears between the columns with that calm, calculated stride I remember all too well.
He stops in front of me. His eyes scan me slowly, as if assessing how much I've changed.
"I'm surprised you sent for me," he says indifferently.
"I'm surprised you thought I wouldn't," I reply.
A brief smile crosses his face. He crosses his arms.
"What do you want to know?"
"Everything. Starting with who she is."
"Direct. I like that." He takes a step toward me, lowering his voice. "Find out for yourself. Ask him."
"If I'm asking you, it's because I don't trust him to tell me the truth."
Higmer tilts his head slightly, as if he finds that interesting.
"Fine. Then ask the right questions and watch if he hesitates before answering. Men like Abisai don't lie with words. They lie with silence."
I clench my teeth.
"What do you want from me, Higmer? Because you're not telling me this out of generosity."
"No," he admits without flinching. "But I'm not lying to you either. When was the last time someone spoke to you without lying?"
I don't answer because I don't have a good one.
He notices.
"You've spent your whole life hiding, Zabina. Running. Pretending to be something you're not to avoid the attention of those who would hunt you if they knew what you are." He pauses. "And now you're inside the palace of those who exterminated your kind, in the bed of the man who will soon marry another. And you'll still be wearing a borrowed tiara that doesn't belong to you, unable to tell anyone your true identity without it costing you your life."
"What do you know?" I mutter. "Maybe I should tell Abisai I know you. You won't make me distrust him."
"How naive you are," he growls, and I take a step back. "Go ahead. Tell him. You'll see how everything gets complicated. How his friend Vacul will demand your gem and how Abisai will end up cutting your throat with the court as witness. Just because he enjoys you doesn't mean he cares."
"And you?" I whisper, not breaking eye contact.
"I'm offering you a choice," he says, taking another step toward me. "When you're tired of living like this. When you're sick of being the future emperor's secret. When you want to exist without needing anyone's permission. Come find me."
"In exchange for what?"
"Nothing you don't want to give."
"I don't believe you."
He smiles, and this time, it doesn't seem fake.
"Fine. Don't believe me. But remember my name anyway." He steps back, giving me space. "I only ask one thing before you go."
I look at him without responding.
"Ask Abisai what happened to the last white dragon who entered Anwar thirteen years ago."
The air leaves my lungs.
"And when he answers you," he adds quietly, "or when he doesn't answer you, remember this conversation."
He turns and walks away between the columns without hurry, without looking back.
I'm left alone in the garden, my heart racing and my hands cold.
He didn't offer me freedom.
He offered me something worse.
A question I can't stop asking myself.