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at all. That she’d been the woman who had raised him, but not the woman who’d brought him into the world. The one who had been there for his first gasping breath.

He didn’t want to feel like this. The memories of his own mother, the woman who had kissed his bruises and lifted him into her arms when he fell, burned in his memories. She was the one who had taken the time to teach him to be a good person.

And yet, this woman looked like him. He saw the shape of her eyes and saw his own emotions reflected in them. She looked up at him as if he was the one person left in this forsaken kingdom that mattered.

Maybe he was. In this moment, she wasn’t the leader of the Alqatara. She was just a woman, seeing her child for the first time in a very long time.

He shuffled forward, dropped to one knee, and placed his hand on the bed beside hers. “Why?” he asked, his voice so quiet he almost couldn’t hear it himself. “Explain that to me, please.”

Nahla looked up at the other two women and nodded toward the door.

Tahira didn’t move, crossing her arms firmly over her chest and glowering at Nadir. “I don’t trust him, Matriarch. Excuse me if I insist upon staying.”

“This is a conversation best left to me and my son. Leave us.”

He thought for a moment that Tahira wouldn’t listen to her matriarch. Such an action was expected from a woman so clearly upset that he was even there. He didn’t know what he’d done to garner her hatred. Most people hated him already in the kingdom for all the things he hadn’t done, but this felt a little more personal.

After a few heartbeats, she turned on her heel and left the home.

The moment the flap closed behind her, Nahla reached out and covered her hand with his own. Nadir marveled at the texture of her skin. Had he ever touched someone who was so old? Most elderly people were kept away from him. There was still a superstition in Bymere that they could pass on bad luck to those they touched.

She clearly didn’t believe in these old religions. Instead, Nahla laced her fingers with his and let out a happy sigh. “It’s been too long since I’ve held you in my arms, boy.”

“Why did you let me go?” he asked again. “I heard the story from Abdul. That he came to take me away, that you seduced my father in hopes that one of your own lineage would take the throne.”

“That’s only part of the story.”

“Then it’s true?” he asked, searching her gaze for something more than a woman who had used a child to her advantage. He didn’t want to be the son who was created for a purpose. Just once in his life he wanted to be… wanted.

She smiled at him, squeezed his fingers, then nodded. “There’s so much more I want to tell you. That’s why I brought you here. Of course I wanted to have someone on the throne whom I could trust. Darkness brewed in the line of your father. I thought, perhaps, Beastkin blood could burn that away.”

“Darkness?” Nadir couldn’t imagine what she was talking about. His line had always been known as good kings. They took care of the kingdom, even through hardships, and made decisions others didn’t want to make.

“The Beastkin have suffered under the rule of your father’s line. They suffered before as well. I thought, perhaps, a child of both bloods might be able to bring them together.” She coughed slightly, leaning to the side and catching her breath. “I was right. That’s exactly what you’ve done.”

He didn’t want to agree. It somehow felt wrong, as though he was going against the memory of his family by saying he’d done all that this woman wanted, without having her guidance in his life.

Was it so wrong to agree though? She wanted the Beastkin to be part of the Bymerian empire. He couldn’t disagree that it was a good idea. He wanted the same thing. So why was there a part of him that wanted to renounce the idea immediately because he’d followed in the footsteps she wanted him to traverse in?

He blew out a breath. “So this was your plan all along?”

“One cannot have a plan if the person involved doesn’t know you exist.” She pulled her hand from his and ghosted a velvet soft touch over his cheekbone. “You are more than I ever could have imagined. My handsome boy. Do you know what they call you on the streets now?”

“The boy king?”

“No,” she said and shook her head. “They call you the God King. The boy who was, and the man who became a monster just to save them from the worst of the worst.”

“I’m not a god.”

“You could be, if you tried hard enough.” Nahla struggled to sit up, lifting a hand and refusing his help when he leaned forward. “There is a difference between a man and a god. Do you know what it is?”

“Power.”

Her gaze met his, and he was silenced by the sheer force of it. Suddenly, he understood why she was the leader of the Alqatara and no one else would suit. There was a spine of steel in this woman.

“No, my son. The difference between a man and a god is belief. Your people are already rumbling with the prayers to a god who is also a sultan. That is power you can wield, but only if they continue to believe it.”

“Then how do I coax them to entertain the idea?”

“You give them a reason to believe it. Show them who you are and what you can do. In the moments after the battle, you sat with your people. Lowered yourself to their level and helped them understand that you were a man beneath all the scales. They needed that in that moment, so they would no longer be afraid. Now, there

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