“Oh.” I blink in stupefaction. This is… good. So why the unease? “Well, I’m pleased to hear the issue has been resolved. But I want to reiterate that I stand by what I told you earlier. There is nothing between me and the South Wind. There hasn’t been for a long time.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” This, paired with a brief smile. “When we marry, there will be no man in your life but me.”
He stares at me long enough that I grow uncomfortable. It’s not a threat, though it certainly sounds like one. Pushing to my feet, I wander to the window, peeling myself away from his focus for a moment. Carved red stone edged in violet: Ishmah at dusk.
“May I ask you something?” Turning, I take in the man I am to marry. He regards me with unusual intensity, a foot propped casually over one thigh. My skin tingles beneath his scrutiny.
“Anything,” he says.
“What do you hope to gain from this alliance?” I gesture to the desert beyond the still-warm glass. “As a whole, Ammara is far smaller than Um Salim. And our wealth, while extensive, is dependent on continued trade along the Spice Road, which has declined in recent years due to drought. If the lack of rain continues, I fear my realm will face famine. As far as I can see, our marriage will be a disadvantage for you.”
The prince frowns as he pours himself another cup of tea. A spoonful of sugar follows, a gentleclinkas he stirs the sweetness into the steaming liquid. “I admit that when King Halim first broached the subject of an arranged marriage, I declined the offer.” He lowers the spoon, takes a sip, gaze direct. “You’re right. A union to Ammaraisdisadvantageous to Um Salim, especially considering our harvest is not always robust, and more mouths to feed would strain our agricultural fields. Life, however, is not always about the best economical choice.”
With all the care of a young child handling glass, he sets down his cup. “I wish to tell you a story, if you are amenable?”
I am properly intrigued, for I dearly love stories. “Go on.”
“When I was a boy, I accompanied my father to Ishmah. At the time, our people were suffering. A sandstorm had decimated the region; the year’s harvest failed. Our only option was to call on King Halim for aid.
“Many days we spent in this palace, these very rooms. At times, discussions extended well into the evening. But at the end of our visit, King Halim agreed to loan a year’s worth of gold to Um Salim, which was used to rebuild our cities and villages. I have never forgotten thatkindness.” He drops his head forward, staring down at his interlaced fingers, brow furrowed. “You ask what I hope to gain from this alliance?” His gaze lifts to mine. “A generous, more prosperous world.”
It reassures me, his reasoning. For I, too, believe in such generosity. “That is admirable, Prince Balior. Thank you for sharing.” There is a silence. “During our ride earlier, you mentioned we might discuss… certain matters.”
“Ah.” He smiles. “How could I have forgotten?” The prince gestures toward his desk and its precarious stack of books. “After doing some preliminary research,” he says, “I’ve found mentions of shadow beasts in a select number of texts. From what I gather, they absorb or, say,extractsouls from living bodies. Is that correct?”
A shudder grips my frame. “Essentially, yes.”
“And you don’t know where they hail from?”
“No.”
He rubs at his stubbled jaw. “Do you know why your Lord of the Mountain trapped the beast in the labyrinth?”
As it turns out, I do not. “Why do you ask?”
“According to my research, it’s possible the beast comes from the same realm as the darkwalkers. Or, at the very least, from an adjacent realm. Some sources claim the beast was once not a beast at all, but an immortal, forced to submit to the power of the labyrinth. If we were to discoverwhythe beast was trapped, it could shed light on the matter.” Prince Baliortap-tap-tapsa finger against the stack of books, then shakes his head ruefully. “I daresay I am boring you with my observations.”
“Not at all,” I assure him. At this point, I would welcome any ideas, no matter how far-fetched.
He smiles at me gratefully, as if he has found himself in front of less-than captivated audiences before. I certainly know the feeling. “Consider this: If it’s true that the labyrinth’s power forces its prisoners to become beasts, then it can be assumed the beast would return to its previous form when no longer bound by its prison. Right?”
Helplessly, my lips curve. The prince is more animated than I have ever seen him. “Right.”
“And if itisfrom the same realm as the darkwalkers, then might it not also know how to eradicate the creatures, or return them to their birthplace?”
My mouth parts, hangs open a moment, then snaps shut. “That is an excellent question, Prince Balior.” And it gives me much to consider. What if the beast is somehow connected to my curse? In discovering more about the labyrinth, it may be possible I can free myself from that which ails me.
While Prince Balior searches his collection for additional information, I peruse the material on his desk. A slender volume tucked beneath miscellaneous records gives me pause.
The book is old as Ammara is old. A tattered cloth cover coated in grime. Pages so brittle I fear they will dissolve beneath my touch.
It is the symbol marking the cover of the book, however, that captures my gaze: an enclosed circle, like the whorl of a shell, overlapping a small triangle. The tip of my finger finds the curved iron edge, though I do not recall reaching toward it. I trace the raised swirl, my focus sliding out. The warmed metal turns icy enough to burn.
Sarai.
I snatch back my hand, awareness bleeding through my system. Warmth. Sun on my face. I stand near a window, though I do not remember ever approaching it. The labyrinth sits bone-bright in the courtyard below.
When I cast a glance over my shoulder, I find Prince Balior poring over texts, face pinched in concentration. My attention returns to the book resting against my stomach, which twists in unease. This symbol… I have seen it before. And then it comes to me. The raised whorl gracing the cover of Prince Balior’s book is the same one etched in the labyrinth’s doorway.
