Free Fathoms of Forgiveness (Sacred Breath, Book 2) by Nadia Scrieva Page A

killed. Murdered and mutilated. Her hands holding Corallyn’s small arm were stiff—it was as though she herself were being infected with empathetic rigor mortis.
    “Princess Aazuria,” Naclana said softly. “I’m so sorry about your sister.”
    Her cousin’s voice drew her out of her trance, and she stared at him, disbelieving. She was suddenly startled by the fact that everyone had left the room. Where was Trevain? Where was Elandria? It seemed like the whole world was tinted in dark purple. Was she still standing? She was not aware of her feet. How had her body remained upright? Why were her cheeks dry? Had she not been crying? She vaguely remembered Elandria collapsing. She remembered Alcyone crying. None of the emotions had been hers. None of the reactions had been hers.
    She felt nothing. She squeezed on Corallyn’s ashen flesh, trying to convince herself that it was real. This was really happening. She tried to feel pain or hurt—that would be the normal thing.
    “Princess Aazuria?” Naclana asked, with worry in his voice. He was disturbed by her silent stillness. His voice pierced into her consciousness again.
    “Damn you!” Aazuria whispered sharply to her cousin, lifting her eyes to meet his. She tried to force fake emotion into her voice. “Are you out of your mind? Elandria just had heart surgery!” She reached out and carefully returned Corallyn’s severed arm to the case. Aazuria wondered why she was not even sad; she was just hollow. She could not blame the messenger for this. “I am sorry, Naclana. I just wish you had not allowed Elandria to know!”
    “With all due respect and more, Princess,” Naclana said, bowing deeply in apology. “News like this would have made Elandria swoon whether or not she was at full health.” It was no secret in Adlivun that the bond between Corallyn and Elandria had been as deep as between the closest of mother and daughter. From the time that Corallyn had been brought to them by their father, King Kyrosed Vellamo, Elandria had taken care of the young girl as though she was her own child.
    “Are you calling my sister weak?” Aazuria asked harshly. “I know she is not your blood relation, but that gives you no right to…”
    “That isn’t fair!” Naclana said with a frown. “She demanded to be present, and you permitted it.”
    “I did not know you wished to show me body parts!” Aazuria said. “You can be firm when it suits you, Naclana. You should have been firm here. If I lose my other sister too, I will consider it your fault.”
    He bowed deeply in respect, apology, and acceptance of this judgment. “Do you want to know all the words which were carved into Corallyn’s skin?”
    “Of course,” Aazuria said. “Let us wait for the others to return.” Her eyes fell onto the female guard who had been the one to actually break the news of Corallyn’s death. She had the appearance of a fourteen-year-old, and she had probably reached her full height. It was impossible to gauge her true age. From her armor, she was evidently a moderate-ranking military official. “What is your name?” Aazuria asked her.
    “Lieutenant Namaka,” she answered, with a bow.
    Aazuria studied the woman’s dark eyes and strong features, and tried to remember where she knew her from. She had likely been a migrant from some distant settlement, probably Bimini. “Lieutenant Namaka,” Aazuria said with authority. “I will need you to maintain a close watch on Visola from now on. It was her husband who did this to my sister, and I have a hunch that she is about to do something senseless to retaliate. She is the hot-blooded type. Are you capable of guarding her closely?”
    Namaka saluted across her chest with enthusiasm. “Yes, Princess Aazuria. I always have and always will.”
    Aazuria might have wondered about the girl’s unusual gusto, and considered how teenagers were always so thrilled to be given an important task. She might have grieved that Corallyn would