Before I’m able to respond, he moves off, drawing yet another unsuspecting individual into conversation.
Dread bleeds along my nerve endings. What is truth, what is lies? Was I unfair in prematurely judging Prince Balior’s character? A loveless marriage is not exactly a death sentence. I believe I could grow to respect the prince, assuming I had time.
Unfortunately, Dalia appears, likely having been summoned by malevolent forces. She watches the prince depart with a salacious curl to her mouth. “You certainly know how to keep things interesting around here.”
I do not have time for this. “What have you heard?”
“Something about a betrothal.” Her eyes cut to the South Wind. “Only, not to the man your father arranged for you to marry.”
My pulse rises, beating a staccato against my neck. There is a time and a place to reveal my engagement to Notus. This is not it.
I step forward. “Dalia—”
Tuleen reaches the woman first. Though she is of slighter build, the chill in her gaze is enough to cow even the strongest of war-hardened men. “What interest do you have with Princess Sarai? Because as far as I can see, your only purpose this evening is to spread gossip at court.”
Dalia takes a step back from the future queen of Ammara, suddenly watchful. It seems her entourage has abandoned her.
“I believe it’s time for you to leave,” Tuleen clips out. She looks past Dalia, lifts a hand, and curls two fingers in acome hithergesture. Three guards approach. “Please escort Lady Yassin from the ballroom.”
A hush descends. As one, the attendees crane their heads toward the commotion. All those eyes, all that judgment choking the air. Even King Halim observes from his perch.
Dalia appears to have swallowed a mouthful of sand. “Excuse me?”
Tuleen keeps her eyes trained on the buxom beauty. “You are a noblewoman. Gossip is below you. See to it that you keep the idle chatter to yourself.” With that, Dalia is escorted from the premises.
Conversation explodes in the wake of the woman’s departure. By the end of the night, everyone will know how Lady Dalia Yassin was dismissed by Ammara’s future queen. But none will know that was due to my inability to defend myself. It is humiliating not to be able to stand on my own two feet.
“Princess Sarai?”
I grind my teeth, not in any mood to feign civility, and turn toward my brother’s wife. How I wish she hadn’t witnessed the ease with which Dalia caught me beneath her thumb. I should be stronger than that. Iamstronger than that. “Yes, Tuleen?”
Gone is the tender queen-to-be, those green-flecked eyes like churned water. In her place stands a woman inflamed, jaw locked, mouth thin. “You do not like me very much, do you?”
All day, I must flatter and socialize, smile and preen. It is utterly exhausting, wearing my own skin. “It’s not that I don’t like you. It’s that I don’t trust you.”
She regards me calmly. “Why not?”
“Because you are a woman of the court, bred to scheme, and as such, you and I will never understand each other.”
“You sound certain of this.”
“I am.”
“Yet I just defended you from that horrible creature.”
My reply disintegrates before it has the opportunity to form, and I shift uncomfortably in place. She is right. Then again, what is one favor? Who is to say she will not use this as leverage in the future?
“You are entitled to your opinion,” she says, softly but not weakly, “but I do hope to prove you wrong, in time.”
Before I can respond, Amir returns, pulling Tuleen against his side, a drink in one hand, the other curved around his wife’s hip. Tuleen attempts to smile, but her unhappiness is plain. Guilt pricks at me.
Suddenly, Amir straightens. “What the hell ishedoing here?”
My stomach plummets.
The king-to-be has locked on to Notus across the room. I stare as well. The woman draped in silver, plastered to his side still, always within reach. An onslaught of fury boils under my skin. Did he touch her, or did I only imagine it? No, I’m certain I saw his hand brush her lower back.
“Father has employed the South Wind’s services,” I explain. They are barbed, these words. I practically spit them out. “He arrived three weeks ago.”
