CLAUDIA

The doors shattered.

She stepped into the chamber.

She stood still. For a long time, she stared.

A soldier scoffed behind her, probably meaning to whisper to a friend, but his voice echoed in the underground. "Cowards."

Claudia looked over her shoulder. The legionaries stood there in the tunnel. "No," she said. "They were brave."

She looked back down at him. At her Epher. He lay between his people, holding his wife, like he had so often held Claudia. She lowered her head.

"Take the king and queen," Claudia said. "We will take their bodies with us."

Legatus Constantius nodded. "We'll display their corpses in Aelar."

Claudia shook her head. "We'll bury them. There is a hill by the port of Gefen, a hill with a villa and vineyard and garden, and there are two graves already there. Two more graves will join them."

"Gefen, domina?" Constantius said. "Do you mean Valeria Maritima?"

"What?" She blinked, then nodded, distracted. "Yes. Yes, of course."

They left the ruins of Tarath El that day, three legions and their slaves. For three days, they traveled north across the desert until they reached a mountain topped with ruins. Beth Eloh was no more, its Temple fallen, its ancient olive trees burnt, its walls gone, all its whispers silenced. Nothing but ruins. Nothing but memory. From here, they traveled westward along the road to the sea, taking many wagons of trophies—precious metals, gemstones, and perfumes taken from the city. Within another three days, they reached the coast.

On Pine Hill, Claudia buried the man she loved, and beside him, she buried the woman whom he had loved. By the graves of Jerael and Mica Sela, they would rest. Epher and his wife. King and Queen of Zohar.

Zohar.

Zohar—the name of the kingdom where Claudia had been born, where she had grown up, where she had fallen in love, where she had suffered loss, where she had killed, where she had triumphed.

Zohar—her childhood by the beach, eating apricots and persimmons and laughing in the sand. Her womanhood in secret gardens and forests, loving him. Her adulthood of blood. Of shame. Of madness. Of burning fire.

Zohar—a kingdom gone, forgotten. Already none spoke its name. She stood in Aelaria Orientalis, the eastern province of the Empire.

The language I grew up speaking, Claudia thought. The songs I heard as a child. The foods I bought at the market and ate at his home. The lore and music and light. Gone. Sand castles, fading under the waves.

They set sail in the spring, leaving behind Aelaria Orientalis, an eastern wasteland. A fleet of many ships upon a warm sea. In their holds, they carried their loot, the treasures of a nation. Three thousand Zoharite slaves to be sold in the markets. Chests of gold stripped off the columns and towers of the Temple. Many jewels and gemstones. The throne of precious metal, taken from the palace. It was a great treasure, as great as any in Aelar's history of conquest. All for a thousand years would praise her name, Claudia knew. The history books would speak of her triumphs.

But none would know about the kingdom where she had lived. None would know about a girl in a garden by the beach. A girl in love. A girl burnt. A girl broken. A girl forever haunted.

For three weeks, they sailed. For three weeks, Claudia stood at the prow of her ship, thinking of home. The only home that had ever been hers. Thinking of him. Thinking of herself, what she had done, who she had been, and who she was.

When she finally saw the towers of Aelar in the distance, her soldiers sang, but Claudia found no joy. And she knew that none in this city—this city the size of the kingdom she had destroyed, had lost—would ever understand.

The ships sailed on, but Claudia did not sail with them.

When she leaped into the water, her soldiers cried out. A few leaped after her. Tried to reach her. To save her. But the sea was wide, and the currents soon claimed her, pulling her away from her fleet, away from a city not hers. Never hers.

She sank. Beads of light danced above her, growing smaller, fading, until all was indigo and starlight. Then darkness.

I'm sorry.

Claudia closed her eyes, and she felt no pain as the sea flowed into her lungs. She felt no fear of the underwater, for she had always been a child of the sea. Only fear of herself.

The fire no longer burned her.

She felt nothing, and all was darkness and water and beads of floating light.