“I have a good instructor.”
A slower melody begins playing as a female soloist chants ethereally. Ramses wraps two firm hands around Nazirah’s tiny waist. “We have to get a bit closer,” he says, pulling her towards him. Nazirah hesitantly places her head onto his chest, relaxing after a moment. It feels nice, platonic, and safe.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Ramses,” she says softly, knowing his grief all too well. She has felt it too, caused by the same person.
“It is quite all right, Nazirah,” he replies. “The Khan and I were not especially close. I was but one of dozens of his progeny.”
“But he was still your father.”
Nazirah recalls how she felt right after her parents died. She locked herself in her new room at the compound, not speaking to anyone, not eating, barely living. She didn’t come out for days, except to attend their funeral. She thinks Ramses might still be in denial.
“We deal with loss differently than in other territories,” he says. “Deathlanders do not dwell on the tragedy of death, but rather celebrate the joy of life.”
A worrying thought pops into Nazirah’s head. “You’re not going to challenge Morgen to a battle, are you?”
Ramses laughs. “I am not,” he says. “That was Khanto’s burden, what Bantu asked to be done in his honor. Although I am not sure my grandfather imagined it turning out quite that way.” He is serious now. “No, I must pay tribute to my father differently.”
“How?”
“Honoring his last wish,” Ramses replies.
Nazirah gets the feeling he doesn’t want to talk anymore about it, so she drops the subject. The party is dying down. Nazirah spots Adamek sitting exactly where she left him, watching them closely. She turns her attention back to Ramses. “I should probably head back,” she says, smiling. “But thanks for the dance.”
His grip on her waist tightens. “Nazirah,” Ramses says, “I know that you are with Adamek Morgen.” His eyes flash briefly. “And that he cares for you. But before you return to him, would you be gracious enough to accompany me for a walk in the gardens? They are truly stunning at night.”
Nazirah looks back towards the table, but Adamek isn’t there anymore. The room is almost empty now, save for a few remaining stragglers refusing to let the party die. Nazirah doesn’t see him anywhere. She wonders if he snuck off with that purple-lipped vixen. “I don’t see why not,” she says.
Ramses grins widely and grasps Nazirah’s hand, ushering her out of the room. He leads her rapidly through an unfamiliar corridor. “It’s just a little further up this way,” he says.
“We’re not going to the courtyard?”
“It’s a shortcut.”
Nazirah becomes aware of how clammy his hand is, as they turn down an even narrower passageway. She stumbles in her heels, which are killing her feet, but Ramses doesn’t slow down. Nazirah glances behind her nervously, but the passageway is empty.
Nazirah stops then. She tries to wrench her hand away, knowing in her gut it is already too late. Ramses turns around, facing her. He lets go of her hand. “What are we doing here?” she asks warily. The kindness in his eyes is gone, replaced by something else, something dark and sinister. Nazirah has seen this same look before, not a week ago.
She should have known better.
“Honoring my father’s last wish,” he says. Ramses speaks softly and then punches Nazirah square in the jaw.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nazirah isn’t expecting the blow. She tries to dodge it, but his fist pummels her cheek and mouth, sending her sprawling to the floor. Her dress rips, tearing clean up the side, lace splitting to mid-thigh. Nazirah spits blood onto the floor, staring up at Ramses in fury.
He comes at her again. Nazirah jumps up, reflexively kicking him in the shin, spike of heel vibrating against bone. He curses loudly, hissing and momentarily hunching over. Nazirah knows she can’t overpower him or wall kick in a dress.
She runs.
Adrenalin pumping, Nazirah pulls off her shoes. She throws them at him, sprinting back down the passageway. The dress is too long and she trips over it, staggering. Ramses swiftly catches up to her. He grabs Nazirah and spins her around. She tries to punch him. “Help!” she screams. Hoarse cries echo down the empty corridor. Ramses forcefully shoves his palm into her mouth. She bites down on his hand, breaking the skin, tasting his sickeningly sweet, metallic blood.
“Intermix bitch!” he yells. Ramses slaps her across the face with his other hand, shoving her against the wall. Nazirah thrashes, fighting to break free. But he is too strong. He is far too strong. She tries kicking him again, but he anticipates it this time. He pulls her away from the wall and then slams her back into it, knocking the wind out of her.
Ramses grabs her inner thigh. She struggles against him, managing to reach an arm up and claw his face. But he doesn’t stop. With one hand, Ramses unbuttons his pants. Nazirah panics. Rapidly losing strength, she battles unconsciousness. She shouts at herself to fight, to do something – anything – other than freeze.
Using every last ounce of energy, Nazirah throws herself forward. She slams her head into Ramses’, temporarily stunning him. Not wasting a second, Nazirah latches onto him. She jabs her fingers into his eyes, trying to rip them out of his skull. Ramses yells in pain. He attempts to rip her off him, but Nazirah’s grip is too tight. He begins choking her, but she does not let go.
She will not go out like this.
She is suffocating. Ramses throttles her throat, compressing the delicate column of bones and muscle. Her vision blurs and wavers. Desperate, Ramses blindly fumbles in his jacket pocket. He pulls out something, silver gleaming in the dark corridor. Nazirah knows her time is up.
She can’t breathe.
She can’t breathe.
She can’t …
Nazirah collapses into a heap on the ground. She leans against the wall, encircling her hands protectively around her throat. She hacks, coughing, inhaling oxygen that feels like pure heaven. Ramses has let her go.
But why … why has he let her go?
Vision and thoughts unfocused, Nazirah watches the knife fall from his hand, clattering to the floor. Ramses crumples before her, screaming in agony. His arm is twisted, bone cracked and protruding.
Sight returning, Nazirah peers up through the blur. Someone stands over Ramses, beating the life out of him. The white spots before Nazirah’s eyes give her savior a crude halo, which she finds absurdly hilarious. Because she should be surprised that he would be her angel. But she isn’t surprised. Not in the least.
The look in Adamek’s eyes could send a man straight to hell and make him want to stay. Adamek grabs Ramses’ scalp and slams his head repeatedly into the floor, until his nose is busted and his cheekbones are shattered. He pulls Ramses up, tossing him like a rag doll against the opposite wall. Nazirah flinches, can hear ribs breaking, cartilage matchsticks. Ramses moans loudly, slumping to the ground again, too stubborn to lose consciousness.
Adamek turns his back on Ramses, staring at Nazirah still huddled against the wall. He scans the blood on her face and arms, immersed in her pain. He doesn’t notice Ramses, gripping his uninjured hand around the fallen knife, staggering to his feet.
“Behind you!” she screams. Adamek whips around swiftly, the knife missing his exposed neck by centimeters. But he isn’t quick enough to dodge the blade entirely. It slashes into his upper left arm. Adamek hisses. Nazirah can see the blood pooling under his white shirt, staining it crimson.
Adamek grabs the knife, snapping Ramses’ wrist. Ramses wails in anguish, but Adamek doesn’t let go. Nazirah covers her ears, unable to hear that sickening noise. Ramses falls to his knees, face nearly unrecognizable. Adamek holds the knife against his throat, intentions clear.
“No!” Nazirah stumbles forward, grabbing Adamek’s wrist. He looks at her, bewildered. “No,” she repeats, more forcefully this time. “Just … don’t.”
“You want me to spare his life?” Adamek hisses. “This man who just tried to kill you and fuck your corpse?” He’s angry with her and doesn’t remove the blade from Ramses’ throat. But Nazirah doesn’t waver and she doesn’t let go of his wrist.