Page 206 of Daughter of No Worlds

“I’m glad those circumstances are different, too.”

My hand slid over his, and his fingers easily rearranged to accommodate mine.

Seven months ago, I stood on the deck of a much smaller and much dirtier boat, blood running down my back, three desperate sentences running through my head over and over again. The ghost of that girl still lived inside me somewhere. She had what it took to survive, and I had what it took to live.

I had Wielding skills honed by months of relentless brute force and instruction by the best damn teacher in Ara.

I had magic running through my veins that could destroy and create and rebuild.

I had the ability not just to look at people, but toseethem, and to carry their stories with my own.

And, most precious of all, I had people to protect — love that burned for all of them like an enduring flame deep in my chest.

“We’re not done,” I whispered.

I didn’t even realize that I’d said it aloud until I felt Max’s fingers squeeze mine.

“Barely gotten started,” he said, and a smile tugged at my mouth.

The Threllian shore grew farther and farther away. And within my thoughts, I whispered to myself just as I had seven months ago.

My name is Tisaanah. I am a free woman and yet still a slave. I am fragments of many things but a whole of only myself. I am a daughter of no worlds, and all worlds.

And I am not done yet.

Epilogue

This, Zeryth thought, was quite unfortunate.

He pulled his brow into a thoughtful furrow, doused his voice in well-meaning concern, and leaned forward in his chair. “My Queen, I still do not understand this change of heart.”

Queen Sesri sat across from him, her hands folded delicately in her lap, swathes of velvet and cascading blonde waves falling over her shoulders. They were in one of the Queen’s private meeting chambers, a small room that was still opulently decorated, and her seat was raised so that she looked slightly down on Zeryth despite her small size.

She did, Zeryth had to admit, look the part of a princess. Perhaps one day she would look the part of a Queen, too, though she was probably close to a decade away from really seeming like she belonged anywhere near a throne.

“I have told you my reasons,” she said, haughtily. “Is it so strange to think that I have reconsidered whether fighting blood with blood is the best approach?”

Shesoundedconfident, or at least, her words were even if her voice wavered slightly. But the real giveaway to her uncertainty was the way she shot a little glance at Tare after every sentence. Her Valtain advisor sat beside her, unsettlingly quiet as always, sheets of straight silver hair framing his face.

Aw. How cute.

“The House of Laurel is not loyal to you,” Zeryth said. “Lord Laurel is a known rebel conspirer.”

Sesri looked at Tare, who nodded. “He is.”

Her brow wrinkled. “Perhaps there is another way.”

“Force, my Queen, is the only way to deal with such things.” Zeryth gave her a comforting smile. “Though it is very admirable that you have such a benevolent heart. Just like your father did.”

The mention of the late king, predictably, sent grief spiraling across Sesri’s face. She looked down at her hands, frowning.

Zeryth took that opportunity to shoot Tare a pointed look, arching his eyebrows. Tare stared back blankly, offering — as always — no expression. But he turned to the queen.

“There is no other choice, my Queen,” Tare said, gently.

Sesri pondered for a moment, then she shook her head. “There must be. I do not want to inflict suffering on my people this way. It has gone too far.”

Hm. Interesting.

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