Page 7 of Sands of Atonement

My fists tightened. If I didn’t regain control, I’d lose my fingers. I saw red. Who was this Qahl Paziel, who now ruled my father’s country? What a ridiculous name. I wanted to barf.

The teacher began his walk, pointing at unique finds, and the youths followed. The merchant pressed the princess doll into the most curious of them all.

“To protect you from Eshe’s spirit!”

“How much?” The youth’s voice faded away as I walked toward the husband, who was now slipping from my eyes.

The merchant was right.

Eshe died that cursed night.

I became Mara when Salazar believed it would protect me from those who tried to kill Zyriah’s royal family.

By the time the husband and his young wife headed home, a narrow apartment between two lively taverns, the burned-orange sun had fallen from the sky. The husband waited for the woman to enter their small abode and walked right back into the streets, no doubt looking for a different tavern to drown his slimy face in ale. Men were so predictable.

I waited for the perfect alleyway while following him. Laughter and clinking bottles floated in the air. My steps were silent as I approached the back of his robe.

This alley would do. We passed a dark and smoky street at the back of a hookah bar, when I slammed my strongest foot into the side of his neck and waited for him to double over in shock. His hand covered his neck as he fell on one knee. I snatched the front of his robe and shoved my knee into his diaphragm. His hand grabbed hold of my forearm, and through instinct and practice alone, I wrapped my other forearm around his neck, twisting my body so that I was directly behind him. The man attempted to throw his free elbow behind, but I had squeezed my arm around his neck, and he started grappling at it for air.

His eyes widened when he saw my dagger raised in front of us, curved at its tip.

With minimum effort, I slashed the tip below his front belt, near his groin. His bloodstained purse fell in front of us, making a lovely sound of plentiful coins as it hit the stone ground.

I tsked, shaking my head. “What a mess I made. Luckily for you, it’s a scratch. You’ll live,” I said in a low, deep voice. “I just wanted your pretty purse.”

The man responded with more wheezing, probably from the pain of almost losing his manhood, but maybe from the air that was being sucked from his lungs.

I twisted the blade closer to his face as I heard a splatter of fluid below me.

Disgusting coward.

The powerful stench wafted through the dark air. I pressed the back of the blade into his temple until he fell limp in my arms. It would only be a short time before he woke in agony. I dropped him in his own filth and sighed in disgust.

Weighing the heavy coin purse in my palm, I left him to bleed in the alley.

The next day, I entered the white dunes of Brestan.

Brestan’s sands were white in the north and turned more beige the closer the sands blew south. Eventually, I’d reach the river of Osonah, which divided Zyriah and Brestan from Tehara.

Wavy hair, brown eyes, and a lean body was the mantra in my head while traveling.

My lips curved into a slow smile as I walked down a blinding dune. I replayed the last moment I saw them over and over again.

Wavy hair, brown eyes, lean body.

Twins. Easy. My target was easy. Perhaps even easier than what I had been training for years. The challenges and tests Garamgai put me through were nothing in comparison to how easily Ezra and Casimir would fall into my trap.

I had visualized my plans for over a year, perfecting every inch. Patiently waiting. The plans were their deaths, since I couldn’t possibly know or plan how this would all go down without more knowledge, but still.

Not only would I have their deaths on my hands, but their parents’ as well—their entire family deserved the same end mine had. An eye for an eye never sounded so good, and I would wait an eternity if I could carry it on a silver platter.

Mother, Father, Yonam, Kavid.

The black linen robes and hood protected my new skin from the scorching sun, along with a scarf around my face to protect me from the stinging sands. I had missed the heat, but my body was no longer used to its sharp touch.

My black boots sank into the warm sand as I tread down the white sea. The end of my scarf around my head snapped violently back and forth from the singing wind.

It is coming, they whispered in the familiar way they had my entire life.