The knife slipped in much easier than she expected. Her anger brought her to the very hilt, his blood pouring over her fingers, softening her grip. The embers of their final conflict softly died to silence, their eyes locked as he faded away.
“Your holy words are worth no more than my spit. It was always me. It was always going to end just like this - your blood, my hands.”
Invisible behind her veil, she tearfully smiled as he dropped to the floor, his life pooling around him, the light fading from his eyes.
And the last thing he saw was her headdress strike the ground.