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Hate .
This girl hated him with all the violence Khalid felt in his heart. Hated the very sight of him. Hated everything he was with everything she had.
Her hate was a thing of glory.
She was not afraid.
Why isn’t she afraid?
His curiosity teemed beneath his skin. Khalid blinked once, banishing it away.
Failing miserably.
“Wife,” he said in a low voice. A voice he did not trust. Khalid nodded once, acknowledging their union before the city’s magistrate.
Sealing her fate.
“My king,” the girl replied with clear conviction. A conviction Khalid could not begin to understand.
A conviction he could not begin to ignore.
A girl willingly donning a crown of death. A small girl with immense courage.
Immense hate.
Why did she hate him profoundly? It could not be a result of the rumors swirling about him. Had to be more than the sum of his recent actions.
Her reason had to be personal.
But no other girl in the al-Khayzuran family had been taken from her home and brought to the palace to await her death.
Jalal would not have allowed such a thing. It had been one of Khalid’s first directives—two girls could not be lost from the same family.