His hand drifts toward his blade. “Boreas selected a spear. Zephyrus a bow, and Eurus an ax. But I didn’t care for a weapon. I had no desire to spill blood. If allowed, I would have chosen to spend my days researching obscure texts. But Father didn’t like that. After all, I was one of the Anemoi. There was nothing more pitiful to him than a god unable to defend himself.”
And this is how I had originally come to know the South Wind. Years before, Notus had arrived in Ammara intending to slay the beast within the labyrinth. In the weeks, and then months, of his time at court, we came to know each other just like this: through story.
“It is how I came by this sword.” His fingers twitch around the hilt. “And I decided that I would become so brilliant a swordsman that none would be able to force my hand. It would be my shield. I would be free in all the ways that mattered.”
I understand. Truly, I do. That is partially why I practiced the violin so diligently. I witnessed how easily Father had stripped Fahim of his dream, despite his advanced skill. I would become greater, so great thatthere would be no question that I belonged to music, and it belonged to me.
“For what it’s worth,” I whisper, “you are a fine swordsman. You should be proud of how far you’ve come.”
Notus gazes at me for a long, breathless moment. “Thank you,” he murmurs.
Moments later, Nadia returns bearing a tray of round cakes crisped at the edges. I select two. They’re still warm.
When she disappears into the back again, Notus gazes down at his dessert with a small, sad smile before slipping it into his mouth. Maybe it is this night. Maybe it is how present the past feels in this moment, but I do not like seeing the South Wind so forlorn.
“Your father was wrong to pressure you into becoming something you’re not,” I tell him.
He shrugs. We stand near enough that the motion buffets warm air against my side. “We cannot change others. I have learned that lesson again and again.”
“We should allow ourselves to choose what makes us happiest,” I say, holding his gaze, “don’t you think?” I slip the cake between my teeth.
His eyes flicker, then drop to my mouth. “Sarai—”
The pang in my heart hits unexpectedly. I step back. “It’s late,” I say, but the words do not come as easily as I’d hoped. “What is it you wished to show me?”
He nods stiffly, though I do not miss the hurt clouding his expression. “Of course, Princess Sarai.”
After bidding Nadia goodbye, we head west. Here marks signs of industry, the whiff of smelted metal billowing from cooling forges, wood dust layered like a pile of snow atop the pitted road. As we ascend the rise of a hill, Notus grips my arm, forcing me to slow.
Initially, I do not understand what I’m looking at. Then the clouds part. The moon drenches the land below in silver. I see horses, the sheen of dented armor, the dusty earth packed by the tread of a thousand boots.
An army.
Turning toward Notus, I demand, “Does Father know of this?” After all, King Halim specifically informed Prince Balior that his army was forbidden inside the walls until our marriage was legitimized.
“Not that I’m aware of. I only discovered it this morning.” The South Wind runs a rough hand through his inky hair. I remember all too well the sift of those silken threads. “Maybe Prince Balior’s interest in the labyrinthdoespertain to his research. But consider this: Why would he bring his army inside the city unless he intends to use it?”
I am caught between tomorrow and today, the threat that was promised, and the threat that is current. The South Wind is right. Marrying Prince Balior would grant him significant power over my land and people, regardless of his motives surrounding the labyrinth. His army is evidence enough. It is too great a risk.
“You were right,” I admit, the words pitifully frail. Hooves thud against the distant earth as the prince’s soldiers corral their horses into a vast pen. Gods, how could I have been so stupid? “I trusted Prince Balior too soon. And now I fear I have invited an even greater threat into Ammara.”
“It’s not your fault,” Notus says. “But King Halim must know of this.”
I agree. And we’ve no time to waste.
10
“IWISH TO SPEAK TOFATHER.”
Ali, who has guarded King Halim’s private chambers for the last decade, replies, “Unfortunately, Your Highness, he is not present at the moment.” At his back stretches double oaken doors, cut no thinner than a hand width. Even as a child, I was not welcome to enter Father’s rooms without an appointment. Always, I must knock as a stranger would.
“Then where is he?” I demand.
“He is in a meeting, Your Highness.”
This early in the morning? It is not yet dawn.
At my side, the South Wind shifts his weight, features pressed into fine creases. He, too, distrusts this meeting at so inconvenient a time.
