Page 270 of Mother of Death and Dawn

Wake up, Tisaanah. Wake up. This is not real.

But suddenly it was difficult to discern what was real and what wasn’t. Perhaps I dreamed of a cottage with endless flowers, and a smile that started on the left side first. Perhaps I dreamed of a life of freedom.

“Come back to bed.” Esmaris rose, his hand reaching for me. “I forgive you.”

Tears ran down my cheeks. I felt ashamed, silly.

All of this, and I had been the lucky one. I lived a life of comfort while so many people like me were disposable labor in the mines or the fields or between gears of machinery. And I had a master who loved me, at least as much as he knew how to love anything.

I placed my hand in Esmaris’s.

He gave me the smile reserved for when he was pleased with me.

But something nagged at me. I didn’t move. I touched my throat and felt metal. Butterfly wings.

I folded my fingers around the necklace. The pad of my thumb pressed to the flat back of the design—to the ridges of the Stratagram engraved there.

Home.

I had a home.

It hadn’t been a dream. This was real. I’d fought for it, bled for it, killed for it.

Esmaris’s face had gone cold and hard, as if he could hear my thoughts.

“Who let you believe you could have that?” he hissed. “You are nothing.”

Butterflies came from nothing. I wasn’t afraid of being nothing—of being pieces of so many incomplete things.

I knew who I was.

I rose to my feet. I no longer felt the wounds on my back.

“I killed you,” I ground out. “And I destroyed your empire. And I don’t need to think about you again. Not even in a nightmare.”

He lunged for me.

None of this was real. I pressed my hand to the Stratagram on that necklace, and I shattered the dream.

* * *

I openedmy eyes to an expanse of white stone. It was chillingly silent. The light consumed all shadows, making the ivory seem unnaturally flat. I didn’t know if I was imagining the carvings on the ceiling moving, like leaves in the wind.

I sat up.

I was in a long hallway. No doors or windows. No torches, no sound. Only light. Behind me was a dead end. Ahead, a long stretch of nothing, and a turn to the left.

I looked down at my hand. The gold was so bright, and it moved up the length of my palm in fits and starts.

I stood. I clutched Il’Sahaj, even though I knew that it would do me little good against the things I encountered in here—a place that played tricks on your mind.

I needed to find Max, and quickly. I braced myself, and began to walk.

CHAPTERONE HUNDRED FIFTEEN

MAX

My head was fucking killing me. When I opened my eyes to see familiar white stone dotted with uncanny carvings, I would be lying if I said that I didn’t seize up a bit.

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