When I lifted my head, Olrus stared, slack-jawed.

“I had too much poppy,” he blinked, rubbing the heel of his palm into his good eye before looking at me again. My form had not changed, and he blanched, turning even paler than he had been before.

Like I was peeling off a layer of skin, I released the magic. “I was never powerless. The Giver blessed me with this unusual magic. It manifested by accident on my one hundred twentieth birthday. At that time, my mother made me swear never to reveal it to anyone. She worried that with this ability, I’d be sold like chattel to the Kral to be used as a spy, and she never wanted that for me.”

“Your mother was right,” Olrus said, his tone filled with sympathy and understanding. “In all my life, I’ve never seen an ability like that. Sure, there are those like Incubi and Succubi with powerful persuasion, and even those with enough power over the shadow to render themselves invisible, but to become someone else entirely? That is a rare, powerful gift.”

I straightened, pride blooming in my chest. “So you see, I can pretend to be Vagach and go off to war. You can remain here, safe in the manor. I rarely leave anyway, no one would miss me.” The plan was utterly insane, but I couldn’t allow myself to question it. It was the only way to keep both of us alive.

Orlus’s hand dropped over mine. “I will miss you.”

Tears burned my eyes as I gazed into Olrus’s. “So you think the plan is good?”

“As much as I don’t want you to go off to war, I don’t see a better option that keeps both you and me from a grave. I will gladly die for you, Assyria. Please don’t make this decision because you think I wouldn’t.”

“I know,” I choked out around the knot in my throat. “I can’t lose you too, Olrus. Not after everyone else who has died. I’ll find a way to return. Maybe I’ll be able to sneak away in the night and they’ll search for Vagach out there,” I gestured into the world beyond, “rather than here, at home. Then when they come knocking, we’ll be here and no one will be the wiser.”

Olrus offered me a sad smile. “You are resourceful, Assyria. I have no doubt that you’ll figure out something.” He braced a hand on the seat of a nearby chair and slid his feet toward his butt. I jumped to my feet and grabbed his other arm to help him stand. The poppy must not have dulled all his pain because he wobbled for a moment before bracing both hands on the table. “Can you use your shadows to help me bury him?”

“You are in no state to use a shovel,” I protested, but he shook his head.

“I am healing already. We need to take care of this while there is still light to see by. When are the conscripts supposed to leave?” Olrus asked, straightening at last.

“At first light,” I replied, glancing again at Vagach.

“You’ll need your rest before then, and I needn’t remind you that magic takes time to replenish. You can’t run out of it while you’re out there, among the rest of the army.” His tone had taken on a protective fatherly air, and the corner of my mouth twitched in response.

“Tell me what you need me to do.”

“Use your shadows to lift his body. We’ll move it to the back of the garden to bury it,” Olrus said, taking a staggering step forward. He raised a hand like he was going to use his magic to assist me, but I waved him off.

“I’ve got this. I hardly get to utilize my powers these days anyway, and I could use the practice.”

Olrus grunted in response.

Tendrils of smoky black slithered off my hands and wrapped themselves around Vagach. When I was satisfied with the placement, I twisted my hands and curled my fingers, tightening them down like a rope. Then, I lifted his body off the ground, jumping when the knife clattered to the floor. Blood dripped onto the wood slats like rain, and I glanced at the door that led into the garden.

“Can you open that?” I gritted out, trying to focus on my magic so Vagach’s body didn’t smack into anything and cause an even worse mess. While the shadows in my chest still swirled a strong black, they’d quickly fade to gray with how much I’d exerted myself already today. Time and sleep were the only ways to restore the power.

Olrus hobbled there, nearly tripping over an orange, before throwing the door open and letting in a blast of evening summer heat. He glanced around to ensure no one had appeared to call on Vagach. “Let’s go,” he finally said, and I carefully picked my way there, kicking the ruined fruit out of my way. A massive cleanup would be required when we returned from burying his body.

The sun danced over the wild bushes, and after maneuvering down the steps and into the plush grass, Olrus and I cut a path straight to the rear of the estate, leaving a trail of ruby splatter in our wake. By the time we passed through the copse of fruit trees, sweat soaked my hairline. Vagach was heavy, and I was unused to using my magic in this way. Thankfully I was blessed by the Giver with burgundy eyes, otherwise I wasn’t sure Orlus and I could have managed to move him.

“Here is good,” Orlus said, and I dumped Vagach’s body without a care for the roughness. It wasn’t like he deserved gentle treatment. “I’ll return in a moment with a shovel. I think I left one in the trees earlier.”

I nodded, worrying my fingers while Orlus walked away. His gait had improved, whether from the poppy or our intrinsic healing abilities, I didn’t know. It was one of the reasons we lived for millenia, and it made us harder to kill. Already, the soreness in my ribs was almost gone, despite them being cracked that morning by the male who rested at my feet.

He deserved to be buried rather than burned. Being eternally trapped in this world yet yearning to move on, without a voice to beg for help or mercy, was the perfect fate for him.

No longer would I be a victim of his abuse. This was my opportunity to claim a life of my own, whether I decided to return here to Olrus like I’d offered inside, or whether I’d sneak away at another point along the journey north. With my magic, I could make a life for myself anywhere, claiming that my father had been conscripted and I needed work. I had a few skills I could offer—gardening, sewing, farming. I’d gladly take a position of servitude over the supposed life of luxury I had as the wife of a Kormánzó.

Perhaps I’d even find a fated mate, the greatest love the Fates offered us. As a youngling, I’d dreamed of the moment I locked eyes with him, how our bond would snap in place, and the intensity of our connection. In my fantasy, he’d allow me more freedom than most females were offered simply because he could feel how desperately I wanted autonomy. We’d carve a corner of peace for ourselves on the plains, working the fields for everything we needed and not bothering with the rest of our oppressive society.

I recognized them now as foolish naivety. The world was cruel and no one would ever love me enough to give me what I truly wanted.

Olrus returned with the tool and wasted no time shoving it into the ground and turning over the loamy earth. Out of my shadows, I crafted a large bowl, using it to scoop up piles of dirt and move them out of his way. We worked in silence, though I glanced over my shoulder toward the house far too often, paranoid that we’d be discovered at any moment and the hope fluttering in my chest would be for naught. My muscles ached from the effort, and my hands shook as I continued to twist them to wield my magic.

Evening dipped into dusk by the time the hole was deep enough to bury Vagach. The inky tendrils begged for reprieve, so I crouched alongside Olrus to lift my husband’s body and toss him into the grave. Panting, we stood there, looking down at his blood-soaked form, the unnatural angle at which his neck rested, and the lack of life in his garnet eyes.

Rage bloomed in my chest and I spit on his body before cursing him. “May you never find peace, you abusive fucking bastard. I am worth more than my womb. I will show the world what females are capable of.”