“Are you well?” He searches my gaze, suddenly uncertain.
“Of course.” I am not aware of how tightly I’m gripping the doorframe until my nails dig into the soft wood. I force them to relax. “Why do you ask?”
“You do not appear enthused to see me, is all.”
I lift a hand, rub at the twinge in my chest. He looks healthy, bright-eyed, kissed by salt and sun, heat and wind. He looks, I think, free.
“Of course I’m glad to see you,” I whisper. Though paired with this truth is always a bitterness, that he may leave Ishmah and seek happiness beyond the palace grounds, while I am left behind, always behind, to wonder where another of my loved ones has gone, and why.
We embrace, my smaller frame tucked against him. Amir smells of mint and wood polish. His absence has stretched for three months, and much has changed in that time. “Tell me of your honeymoon,” I urge. “Was it as amazing as you hoped it would be?”
“It was all that and more—so much more. We weren’t ready to come home.”
Pushing his way into my room, he takes stock of his surroundings. A warm breeze puffs against the window drapes and stirs the ends of his headscarf, which has unraveled from his face, the strip of fabric draping his shoulder. An opal rune tattoos his left hand. Tuleen, his wife, is inked with an identical marking.
“And how is Tuleen?” I am nothing if not polite. She is, after all, my sister-in-law. The future queen of Ammara. I try to see her as such, as opposed to the woman who stole my brother from me.
“She is well. Currently resting—it was a long journey. You will see her this evening.” He turns to face me with an intensity I shy away from. “Are you sure you’re all right, Sarai?”
Guilt claims space alongside my heart. What might I say? That I have but a handful of weeks to live? That I have bound myself to the immortal who broke my heart in order to save Ammara from a man who seeks to destroy it? That I am always grieving, always furious, always searching, always falling short? This would be so much easier if Father hadn’t forbade me to mention the curse to anyone, including Amir, who remains uninformed of my early demise.
When I do not immediately respond, he moves toward the window, perhaps sensing my desire for space. “I ask because Father informed me of your betrothal,” he explains.
I straighten in sudden alarm. “When?” Amir doesn’t appear upset. I would have expected a barrage of spitting curses.
“Last month when he wrote me. Well, forthcoming betrothal, I should say. I am relieved to hear negotiations with Prince Balior have gone well. He is an excellent match for you.”
My trepidation grows thorns. “That’s all you heard?” I question. “Nothing else?”
He peers at me over his shoulder curiously. “What else should I have heard?”
I shake my head, waving the question away. If Amir doesn’t know of my engagement to the South Wind, then I am not going to mention it. His opinion of Notus is far from favorable. In fact, he might despise him more than I do. Amir has never forgiven the South Wind for how he hurt me.
As my brother claims one of the armchairs near the window, I sit across from him.
Quietly, he asks, “How is Father?”
I am a terrible princess and an even worse daughter. What do I really know of my father, my own flesh and blood, but his iron capacity to rule? His health declines, yet I do not visit him.
“Stable since you departed, though he has been bedridden more often of late.”
Amir grits his teeth. He and Tuleen returned early from their trip due to the king’s flagging health. There are things Father must teach Amir before his passing. We have known this for some time, but I am not ready to face the knowledge that he will soon be gone. As will I.
“I ask because he mentioned the growing unrest throughout the realm in his letters,” he says.
I hesitate. “There has been a significant increase in darkwalker sightings the past three months. He is right to be concerned.” According to a few attendants I overheard in the halls, two men from the upper ringwere reported missing. This is unusual. The wealthy are located farthest from the city gates, but apparently this man and his son had taken a trip to a nearby town. They failed to return.
“He claims this match between you and Prince Balior could bring an end to the darkwalkers.”
I nod. “That is what he hopes for.” And the cover story given to Amir. “But I believe we might be able to combat this issue ourselves, without the need for outside help.”
“What are you implying? Prince Balior’s strength would be a boon to us in eradicating these beasts. If any managed to enter the city, or the palace—”
“One already has.”
He startles, eyes bulging, hands clamped around the arms of his chair. “What? When, and where?”
I wince, rub the sharp throb in my temples. “In the library a little over a week ago. I was completing some research after-hours when one appeared and chased me through the stacks.”
