Page 59 of Daughter of No Worlds

“Yes.”

“As a healer?”

A pause. “No.”

“Then—?”

“There were more useful ways to utilize someone with his mastery of flesh and bone.”

I didn’t know what that meant — not exactly — but the darkness that imbued his voice made me think of Sammerin’s quiet, observing expression. It seemed so incompatible with anything that could ever be described in such a tone.

Max shook his head, like he was chasing away an image of his own. “Anyway. It was bad. Armies of Wielders hurling all kinds of terrible magic at each other left and right, and not caring who was caught in the crossfire. No one had ever seen that scale of destruction before, and no one knew how to handle it.”

I thought of what I had done to Esmaris. Me, an inexperienced Fragmented girl — without so much as touching him. I could only imagine what trained Wielders were capable of. And in those kinds of numbers…

Max cleared his throat. “Butterflies, please.” He sounded grateful to change the topic, even momentarily.

I looked down at the still water, my fragmented reflection glinting back at me from the glassy water. And I made another butterfly.

“How long did it last?”

“Two years,” Max replied, bitterly. “There have been wars much, much longer. But none of them had even been half as bloody.”

“And the Queen—”

“She was just a small child then. The war was nearly coming to an end, or so we thought. And then, the King was killed by his best friend. The person he trusted above anyone else. And that sent everything to shit all over again. Apparently…” His voice flattened. “She was there when it happened.”

No wonder she was paranoid.

“But you won still?”

“The Crownwon, in the end, yes.” His correction was strained and firm. The Crown — nothim.

Those words echoed again:This is the man responsible for the end of the war. Responsible for our victory at Sarlazai.

“Because of Sarlazai?” I whispered.

Max flinched, so slightly that I wouldn’t have seen it had I not been watching his face so intently, tracing the tightening muscles around his eyes and jaw. “Yes,” he said, and offered nothing else.

A victory — or a devastation — strong enough to bring triumph to a country that no longer even had a king. It had to have been something incredible.

He looked at me as if he were expecting me to press him for more information, and was dreading it. And he was right in that the questions were rising to the tip of my tongue. But…

Something gave me pause. Something that lingered beneath the steeling panes of his face, something vulnerable that begged not to be prodded.

I recognized that hidden vulnerability. I nursed it in my own bones.

So, I didn’t touch it. Not this time.

Instead, I said, “Now she kills men in streets.”

“It’s been less than a year since she received control from the advisors that ruled in her stead during her childhood. She had that power for weeks before she started getting tyrannical.”

He said it with such disdain, and though I didn’t know the word itself, I knew well enough what he meant. Especially when I thought of that blood spilling over the stairs, seeping at Max’s feet.

But something didn’t sit right. “What does she want?” I asked.

Max scoffed. “Does it matter? Power. Revenge. Who knows.”

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