Page 124 of Daughter of No Worlds

You used my body to do terrible things. MY body. This is mine. Now get out of my head and let me enjoy my time with my family.

I couldn’t do this. Standing here in the corner hissing at myself like a lunatic, knuckles clenched against the wallpaper. No, this was not going to be my life, or anyone else’s. The first fucking thing I was going to do when I got back to the Towers was get this monster out of my—

{Monster?}

The word shook me from the inside out, lit me on fire with fury and wounded hurt.

In a furious rush, I tried to hold onto control — tried to slam that door closed—

{I gave you everything. I took on your ambitions as my own. I swallowed your weaknesses. And I gave you love that you do not deserve. Even now, I do. Even as you call me a monster. If I’m a monster, what does that make you?}

White, eviscerating pain slid beneath my skull. My mind began to slip, but I fought it, throwing myself around every thread of control.

{You belong to me, Maxantarius. Me alone. And you prefer these people to me? These people who will never understand you the way that I do? These people who will never love you as deeply?}

I am not yours. I am not fucking YOURS.

Those were the only words my mind could form through that all-consuming effort, and they were quickly drowned out by a wall of rage and my own mounting dread.

I felt Reshaye rise and rise and rise, until we were at the same level. Until it was as if we looked at each other straight in the eye, perfectly matched for one terrifying moment. Each clawing onto control with equal strength.

And then it said, in a sad, slithering whisper,{You forgot what you are, Maxantarius.}

I felt my back straighten. My fingers unclench.

No.

A door slammed in my face.

Stop.

I had made a terrible mistake.

My feet crossed the room. My hands unlocked the door. Opened it.

{You force me to do this.}

I threw myself against my own mind with frantic intensity, meeting only a wall.

STOP.

The word echoed, first as a command, then a plea. I fought and fought and fought.

But the steps just kept going.

Atraclius’s room was first, next door to mine. I would remember the perplexed grin he gave me as I first threw open the door, and the way it barely had time to sour into fear before his blood spattered the gold carpet. I would remember the crunch of his warped eyeglasses under my boot.

Marisca’s came next, then Shailia. I would remember two sets of chestnut curls singed and burning.

Stop stop stop stop—

Still, I fought. I clung to my muscles desperately, clawing, leaving gauges of horror.You won’t do this, you can’t do this—

My father. I would remember how he grabbed the fire poker before he saw my face, raising it with a graceful hand molded by decades of his own military experience. How a morbid hope leapt in me at the sight of it, how I threw everything I had into grabbing one fraying thread of control and making my body seize for a moment — just one split second.Do it, I prayed.Do it fast.

But when he recognized me, he hesitated, only long enough to tilt his wrist and redirect the point from my throat to my shoulder. Too long. The thread slipped from me, and I would remember the sickening angle at which that poker extended from his throat.

Then Variaslus. I would remember the way he grabbed my wrist first, slender fingers too startled to push back.

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