Because the fire had rendered Karina’s old bedroom uninhabitable, Farid had moved her to a portion of the Kestrel’s former quarters. However, Karina had chosen a different bedroom from the one her mother had used; that was one of the many things the Kestrel owned that she would never be ready to inherit.

So now Karina sat with her knees to her chest in the scalding water. When she and Hanane had bathed together as children, they used to play a game where they’d see who could remain underwater the longest. Every time, Karina would surface first, and there would be a terrifying moment where she was certain her sister would never return. Then Hanane would pop up and spray her with water, and they’d go on with their day as sisters did.

Taking care that her bathing cap was secured tight, Karina dove beneath the surface. She swam down until her hand touched the bath’s tiled bottom and resurfaced, not sure what she’d been hoping to find. Karina swam down again and resurfaced, then dove down once more. This time, she stayed under until pain laced her static lungs. She wondered if death by drowning felt similar to death by smoke inhalation or death by a sword to the back.

She wouldn’t find out, as, for a third time, she resurfaced. Then Karina climbed out of the bath and summoned a servant to help her get dressed.

In a few hours, the sun would rise on the last day of Solstasia. If she wanted to complete the Rite of Resurrection before the festival’s end, she could no longer put off the task she’d been dreading most of all.

At Karina’s request, Tunde had been given a room in her new quarters, and no one had questioned her intentions with this order, at least not to her face. No doubt all sorts of lewd rumors had already formed within the cracks that held the city together, and perhaps one day they would return to destroy her, as such rumors often did.

She would worry about that after she had her mother back.

Karina mimicked the servants’ knock, and Tunde called her in. She almost chuckled at the way he jumped when she entered the bedroom.

“It’s you,” he said breathlessly. Tunde had been unusually quiet all day, which Karina had been grateful for. Their shared history was making this difficult enough, and the more she witnessed the things that had drawn her to him in the first place, like the way he roughhoused with his brothers or spoke lovingly with his parents, the harder it became to steel her resolve.

“Come with me,” she said. Tunde frowned, but he followed her without hesitation. Just like Adil had—

No. Her mind couldn’t go there. She wouldn’t let it.

Karina led Tunde to Ksar Alahari’s private temple, the same one in which they’d laid the Kestrel to rest just three days prior. The veiled statue of the Great Mother loomed above them as the priestess on staff bowed. Karina had alerted the holy woman that she’d be coming by tonight, so the priestess did not seem surprised at their sudden appearance.

Karina gestured for Tunde to sit down beside her on a prayer mat. “As you know, planning for our official wedding ceremony will begin once Solstasia dies down. But it is standard practice for my family to make marriages binding as soon as possible, lest the worst come to pass before the main ceremony can occur. This will ensure that you and your family are taken care of should anything happen to me before we are publicly wed.”

Tunde’s skeptical look was no surprise. The average Zirani wedding lasted at least a week, and it required the participation of the families of the betrothed. Had they done this the correct way, Karina would have drunk milk with Tunde’s mother, and Tunde would have brought a gift of fruit wrapped in palm leaves for her father, among many other requirements. Truthfully, Karina wasn’t even sure if they could be considered married without the full ceremony.

Nothing about this was natural, but just as Karina was certain Tunde would refuse, he nodded. “I understand.”

Karina had not spent much time wondering how her own wedding might be, and perhaps this was a good thing, for surely her expectations would have died painfully under the somber reality. Nothing seemed real as the priestess smeared a compound of sacred herbs and rosewater onto their foreheads, which they then pressed together. Karina searched herself to feel something—excitement, sadness, dread—for this moment she had sacrificed so much for. All she found was the hollow thumping of her own heart and the haunting memory of a kiss that hadn’t happened.

“The world is as the Great Mother has meant it to be, and we too are as she means,” she and Tunde recited. “In this world, there is no thunder before lightning. No betrayal before trust, no dusk before dawn. And now, there is no me before you.”

Like most things of importance to their people, a Zirani marriage was sealed with blood. The priestess cut small incisions in both their arms, and their blood mingled together on the stone, uniting them as one.

People usually cried at their weddings. Their families cheered, the newlyweds danced. But most people didn’t spend their wedding wishing another man were there instead. Most people didn’t spend their wedding thinking of ways to murder their new spouse.

After the ceremony, Karina led Tunde to her bedchamber, and they consummated the marriage as they were meant to do. Despite all that had gone wrong between them, Tunde still touched her so gently, as if she were someone who deserved to be loved and cherished, and Karina nearly wept. When they finished, she sat up.

Just like that, it was over. In the eyes of the Ancient Laws, the marriage was official.

Tunde now possessed the heart of a king.

Karina glanced at the pillow beneath Tunde’s head, where the knife she had hidden earlier lay in wait. She would never get a more perfect chance to strike him than now, while he lay open and vulnerable within her reach.

“You don’t seem very excited for someone who just became a king,” said Karina in a futile attempt to ease the tension.

“It’s hard to feel excited about an honor you didn’t earn.” Tunde sat up as well, her sheets tangled across his lap. “If I ask you a question, will you give me an honest answer?”

His tone was almost shy, which seemed rather silly to Karina, considering that this wasn’t the first or even close to the first time they’d lain together.

“That depends on the question.” After she killed Tunde, she’d have to rub some of his blood on her, even create a shallow wound, to aid her story that he’d attacked her first and she’d retaliated in self-defense. The steps of her plan ran on a loop in her mind.

Kill Tunde. Frame Tunde. Save her mother. Kill Tunde. Frame Tunde. Save her mother.

“Why am I here and Adil isn’t?”

Karina’s breath caught in her lungs. The seconds stretched on in silence, and she had to look away. “I’m sorry. I just . . . I’m sorry.”

She didn’t realize she was shaking until Tunde took one of her hands in both of his, gently running his thumb over her knuckles. “Whatever it is you can’t tell me right now, it’s all right. I understand.”

Tunde closed his eyes, and Karina’s free hand twitched toward the dagger.

For her mother. All this was for Ziran and for her mother.

“Ever since things ended between us, I have prayed for a chance to make things right. I was too hurt to see what I did to make you feel like you had to push me away. But being here with you again . . . I don’t know what I did to deserve this second chance, but this time, I’m not going to squander it. Even if it takes the rest of my life, I’ll show you there’s nothing you ever have to hide from me. There’s no part of you I don’t want to see.”

He pressed her palm against his lips, and in that small gesture, Karina could feel the love lacing his words. She nearly wailed. The knife was right there. The last item she needed for the Rite of Resurrection was right there.

Tunde opened his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

For the first time that night, Karina truly looked into her husband’s eyes.

A realization hit her, bright as the first rays of sun after a too-dark night—she wasn’t going to kill this boy.

She wanted her mother back more than she had known it was possible to want something. But not at the expense of Tunde’s life. Even if the ritual succeeded, it would mean another person snatched from the world before their time.

Death was not the answer to death.

It had never been. It would never be.

Karina trembled, too overwhelmed to speak. Tunde wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her to him until they were heart to heart.

“It’s all right,” he said, pressing his forehead against hers. “It’s all right.”

Tunde’s kiss was as solid as he was, and as Karina leaned into the steady warmth of him, she recalled what had drawn her to him back before everything had gone wrong. For all his joking and posturing, there was an openness about him that had always dazzled her, made her want to be the kind of person he believed her to be.