Chapter 50

I release Azar from my magic, but he remains frozen, a spark of fear flashing in his gaze. He can feel it just like I can. That Hamza has entered the room. I look past Azar’s slumped body to find him, dressed entirely in black, sword in one hand, and the other hand hidden behind his back. Spots of blood dot his face, but it’s his eyes that draw my attention. If the fire in them were to be unleashed, it would burn this kingdom to the ground. They roam over me, and I imagine myself through his eyes. Blood on my lips and chest, a bite mark on my neck and breast, and probably a handprint across my throat. My dress torn down the middle, leaving me exposed to both his and Azar’s eyes.

Azar pants as he rises with all the grace he can right now, and turns to face Hamza. Hamza’s eyes slowly move from me to the man before him. Azar takes small, careful steps towards the dresser behind him, where his sword awaits. I make it there first, sliding it towards me until I hold it in my hand. Then I get his knife and walk over to where Hamza stands.

Azar glares at me for leaving him defenseless. Then Hamza takes a step forward, and his eyes quickly snap back to the killer before him.

“You foolish bastard,” Azar spits, defiant even in the face of death. “My witch protects me. There is nothing you can do to harm me. Her magic is the only armor I need as long as she lives.”

“But does she live, my love?” I ask, tilting my head at Hamza.

“Not anymore,” Hamza answers, bringing Arwa’s still bleeding head from behind his back.

Azar roars when Hamza tosses the head towards him. Blood streaks across the floor as it slides until hitting Azar’s boots. Azar’s hands clench and unclench while he looks down at the haggard face that now very much matches the voice that will never again come out of her mouth that is frozen open in a scream. The hair atop the head is gray, the skin thin and waxy, ashen, and wrinkled. Then Azar charges for not Hamza, but me, hand reaching for his sword. But Hamza is quicker, bringing his sword down on Azar’s arm, slicing through skin and bone. Azar’s blood curdling scream fills the room, and his hand drops to the floor, lifeless and bloodied.

I think, surely someone will come to the door now, at least knock to see what’s happening. But no one does. Obedient guards to a screaming king. Good. Azar puts his hand to the wound, thinking, hoping he can heal himself, but all of his magic died when Arwa did. I can see the moment he realizes this, his eyes frantically looking around the room. He runs for the door, maybe thinking the same thing as me, that his guards can save him now, but Hamza comes behind him, slashing his sword through the calf of Azar’s left leg. Azar bellows, dropping to one knee.

He tries to reach for Hamza’s leg, whether to pull him down to where he is or to help himself up, I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter. Hamza steps back and sweeps the tip of his sword through Azar’s shirt and the skin beneath. Azar falls over to his remaining hand, his other knee buckling until he’s almost prostrate before me. I clutch the front of my dress, covering myself as Azar looks up at me in the only way I knew he could.

With vengeance in his eyes. A promise of revenge were he to live. But…he won’t.

“That unholy bastard cannot kill me, or I’d be dead already,” he pants, grinning even now. “I am Azar, King of Sameer.”—He sits up on his hunches to beat his fist against his chest—“I cannot be killed.”

I crouch down before him until I’m looking in his eyes. “Is that what your witch told you? That she made you immortal, eternal? That the magic she somehow gave you would protect you from even death? She lied. She thought that of herself, and there her heads lays.” I point across the room to where it sits, Arwa’s open eyes staring back blankly. “You will die tonight, and it will be only your own deeds that bring death upon you. You see, I didn’t have to harm you or be able to hurt you for your death to come. Your evil deeds only had to make you worthy of it.”

I rise and look at Hamza then. My entire heart stands behind Azar, looking into my eyes with love for me and hatred for the man before him. Blood falls to the tiles from the sword he holds across his chest. The marks on his neck seem to blaze now, as if fulfilling what he was summoned for makes them burn brighter on his skin.

“Is he worthy of your sword Hamza?” I ask.

Hamza smiles at me as he walks around Azar’s hunched over body. When he stands before Azar he reaches for his neck. Azar growls and tries to back away, but only ends up prone on the floor, sprawled out. He throws lazy punches with his remaining hand that Hamza barely seems to feel as he leans over, holding his sword far away from where Azar can reach. Then he wraps his hand around Azar’s throat.

Hamza’s eyes dart back and forth when he makes contact with Azar, as if he’s watching stories play out before him. His face gets harder the longer he remains speechless, holding Azar’s neck. Then all at once, he releases Azar and stands back up. Azar laughs, trying to right himself, but is only able to raise his one knee, the other cut leg stays limp.

He laughs. “You cannot kill me. All I have done has been to better Sameer. I have done no wrong. Can’t you see that, you bastard?”

Hamza shakes his head. “You have done so much wrong that I wish I could kill you more than once. That I could stop your heart, bring you back from death, and then watch as I ripped the life out of you again and again. But you don’t even deserve that.” Hamza brings his sword up. “All you deserve is the death I give you.”

Azar tries to move, his eyes opening wide in realization that his time has come. Hamza’s sword comes down in an arc, the whistle of it somehow louder than Azar’s attempts to scream. It cleaves Azar’s head clean from his neck. His head falls just before me while his body twitches a few times before falling forward, the blood leaking on my bare feet.

The room falls eerily silent until Hamza takes a few steps towards me, and his free hand comes to my face. I look up at him and his mouth descends on mine. A hint of blood is still there, the taste of copper on both our lips, but I don’t care. I open for him, and his tongue slides into my mouth. Feeling his tongue slide against mine, his body pressing to me, his hand clutching my face so tightly, makes me feel safe for the first time all day and night.

I sigh into his mouth and Hamza breaks the kiss, backing up to look at me. Concern fills his eyes and his eyebrows furrow as he looks me over. I hear the sword fall to the floor and then both his hands go to my neck. I hiss at how tender the skin is there, and his face hardens. He looks down at Azar like he really is considering somehow bringing him back to life just to kill him again.

“I’m okay,” I whisper.

His eyes come back to me, pained as they look me over.

“What do you want to say, my love?”

“I love you,” he says hoarsely. “I love you. I love you. You’re safe, Ameera. Finally, you’re safe from him.”

“But we’re not done yet. We have a long night ahead of us. Are you ready?”

“I must go. What I was summoned for is completed. I’m already fighting against the pain that’s demanding I leave Nur. You will have to call me back for me to be with you again.”

“And I will. You know when.”

He nods, kissing me one more time before disappearing. The smell of rain washes over me, and I take a deep breath, inhaling his scent before everything I still have to do tonight weighs down on my shoulders. Because there’s still much to be done before I can even consider myself safe. Starting with making it from this room alive.

I walk away from where Azar’s headless body lies, limping the first few steps until I pause to heal myself. Only my body though. I leave the bruises on my neck and face for where I go next and continue towards the dresser.

The blood beneath my feet makes a wet sound with each step. I remove my torn dress, leaving it on the floor in the red footprints as I pick up my gown and shake it out. I wipe the bottom of my feet on the sleeping dress and step into my gown, pulling the black fabric over my body. The shape of leaves are sewn into the bottom in different shades of orange, scarlet, green, and yellow. The same design goes up the sleeve of the gown. It’s perfect for the future Queen of Nur.

I put on my black headwrap, tying it low and letting the ends hang down my back. Then I put on the crown of the Queen of Sameer and face the door. Bending over, I pick up my dagger off the floor. I tuck it into the pocket of my gown before walking towards Azar’s body. The bottom of my gown drags through the blood there, but I don’t mind. It’s fitting for right now. I crouch before Azar’s head, looking into his unblinking, terrified eyes. A smile comes of its own accord, and I feel zero guilt for it.

I pick up the head by its hair, and walk to the door. When I open it, everyone looks into the room with questioning eyes. Then their eyes collectively drop to the head I’m holding, and they burst into movement. The Nur guards immediately form a line in front of me, their swords extended to keep the Sameer guards at bay. The Sameer guards glare at me, even as they shoot glances at each other.

“I am the Queen of Sameer,” I say with authority. “You will put down your swords. Your King is dead and you take orders from me, and only me now.”

More confused looks, even as their swords lower a bit. They all seem to look at one guard more than the others. I assume he’s the leader amongst them, and I focus on him.

“Put down your swords now. If you persist in trying to assault me, I will have no mercy on you. I am your queen and raising your sword against me is treason.”

The guard looks at me a little longer, his jaw clenched, before nodding and dropping his sword. The others follow his action. I begin walking and the Nur guards form a circle around me. The head swings back and forth as I make my way to Maryam’s office. My feet and end of my gown leave bright red, than fainter marks as I go. When I reach Maryam’s office, I knock on the door three times. After a few seconds, it opens.

“Wait for me here. All of you.” I command before entering the room.

I walk into the room and drop Azar’s head on Maryam’s desk. The other advisors gasp, but Maryam just smiles, pride radiating from her as she looks at the head, then me. Her eyes settle on my bruised face and concern fills them. I give her a discreet shake of my head because now is not the time for her worry.

“So it all worked out?” she asks. “The witch is dead too?”

“Yes. Her head is back in the room.”

“And the Sameer guards? I saw them outside. Are they following you to kill you or obey you?”

“That remains to be seen.”

“Right. Well, let’s call for the king, shall we?”

I nod. “And I will call for someone else as well.”

Maryam raises her brows, but remains silent, probably already knowing of whom I speak. One who could not be spoken of for far too long now. She opens the door and tells one of the guards to inform King Qarun that he is called to an emergency council meeting in Advisor Maryam’s office. The guard nods and walks away. I look to the group of Sameer guards behind our own and find them huddled together, speaking in hushed tones. I can only hope they’re discussing what it means to be free of a monster for a ruler. The door closes, and Maryam opens her hands wide.

“Well whatever it is you’re going to do, I suggest you do it before your father arrives,” she says.

I look nervously at the other advisors, but tuck that anxiety away. I am queen, and their princess. This is my choice. They can either like it or go along with it.

“Hamza.” I call.

The council seem to all draw back at the same time, except Maryam. And her smirk tells me she knew I would do this. And why wouldn’t I? I want Hamza by my side for this, and there is clearly no one my father fears more. And his fear is exactly what I want to see upon his face when he enters this room. He should be afraid. Everything he knows is about to change.