Page 152 of Daughter of No Worlds

I gave her a hard stare. The same one I used to give her all those years ago, when I needed to puncture through all of that ice.

And just as it had then, her expression flickered. “I wouldn’t do it if it didn’t need doing.”

“For what? A petulant twelve-year-old’s throne?” I shook my head. “No. That doesn’t make sense.”

“I wouldn’t do it if it didn’t need doing,” she said again. Then, lower, “Trust me, Max.”

I scoffed. Trust her. Right.

“I suppose I don’t get to argue with that look.” The final remnants of her smile disappeared. And I saw it — hesitation.

“There’s something big coming,” she murmured. “And none of us get to frolic in gardens with pretty Threllian girls until it’s over.”

A cold shiver ran up my spine. Not even at her ominous words, but at the look in her eye: ruthless determination.

I could think of few things that were more dangerous than that.

“Something big,” I repeated. “Ah yes. That puts all of my concerns to rest. My trust is secured.”

She didn’t laugh, didn’t smile. Didn’t strike back. She only shrugged. “I’ve never been afraid to be the bad guy.” And she turned away and threw up her hand in a lazy wave. “Thanks for the spar, Max. Tell our girl I said goodnight.”

* * *

Tisaanah looked sonormalwhen she slept. Well, maybe not normal, exactly — nothing about her was average, after all. But when I went back below deck and peered through the open gap in her curtain to see her face smooshed against the pillow, I let out an involuntary breath. No one would ever guess what was going on in that head. The beautiful machinations or the monster that consumed them.

I find myself curious, do you think about her the way she thinks about you?

The line popped into my head without warning, prompting a surge of uncomfortable disgust. No accent there, and no trace of Tisaanah, either. It was so far from her that I could hide behind my revulsion enough to keep myself from thinking about all of the curious implications of that line.

The answer, of course, was,Yes, frequently, in great detail. But I would pretend that wasn’t the case as long as I possibly could. I was, after all, a well-practiced, world-renowned expert in denial. I was good at magic, good at fighting, good at gardening. But I wasexcellentat avoiding inconvenient truths.

I slipped through the curtain and settled silently onto a crate near the wall, leaning back against the wood, as I watched the top of Tisaanah’s head. The steady beat of her breaths.

I blinked. The world was blurrier when I opened my eyes again.

Another blink. This time, they didn’t open at all.

Chapter Fifty-Two

Max

“Max.”

May-oocks.

I clawed my way through darkness. Turned in my dream and peered up to the cloudy sky. So did Brayan, his steel gaze turning and lifting as he lowered his sword.

“Max.”

I jolted awake. In the process, I moved my left shoulder without thinking and paid for it with a surge of blinding pain.

“You were talking in your sleep.” Tisaanah’s eyes were ringed with darkness and heavy with concern as they fell to my shoulder. “Still?”

I couldn't even unclench my teeth.

“It’s nothing.”

“Stupid,”she huffed, and drew back the curtain as she beckoned to Sammerin.

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