“Is that all?” he says, pushing to his feet.
It is and it isn’t. I am always hungry, always reaching, never soothed, never satiated. He’s reached the door when I call, “Notus?”
He halts, turns to look at me. My heart squeezes itself into silence.
“I know you’re angry with me,” I whisper with heartfelt remorse. “I know I did not act in the safest manner. And I know it’s your duty to protect me, but… thank you,” I say, “for saving my life.”
The softest wind grazes my cheekbone, akin to the brush of his callused fingertips. “I didn’t save your life out of duty, Sarai. I saved it because…” He takes a breath. “Because I don’t want to live in a world without you in it.”
His words heal me even as they frighten me. I know this. I think I have always known this. But I haven’t been prepared to accept the truth until now.
“Be safe,” I whisper. Then he is gone.
The royal healer returns to examine me from toe to scalp, then forces me to drink some vile concoction she claims will help clear my head. If only she knew what confusions resided there: a dark shade—the Lord of the Mountain, who covets my life.
An hour later, I’m released with the instructions to rest and hydrate. I return to my chambers to wash, then open the journal on my desk. Twenty-three days. The longer I stare at the inked number, the tighter my chest cinches. Yet another reminder of how powerless I am.
Seeing as I do not care to stew in my tumult, I go in search of Father. I find him in his chambers, abed. Amir and Tuleen sit at his bedside, speaking in low tones.
King Halim’s quarters are thrice the size of my own. They include an office, two sitting rooms, an impressive library, a bedroom, and aspacious bathing chamber. On the far wall, there lies the interconnecting door to the queen’s chambers. Empty for the last twenty-four years.
Upon catching sight of me, Amir lurches upright. “Where have you been?” He rounds the bed, scouring me for injury. “We checked your rooms but found you gone. I feared you were in the city.”
“I took shelter in the library,” I say to Amir. “I came as soon as it was clear.”
“Thank the gods for that.”
Slowly, I approach the king’s bedside. He is reduced, what remains when a body wastes. His drooping skin resembles moist parchment, and my concern morphs beyond the bounds I have drawn, a spiraling panic threatening. Still breathing—for now. I wonder who will leave this earth first: me or Father.
It hurts to witness, this slow deterioration. I have cried, I have screamed, I have begged and demanded miracles of the gods. It has made no difference. When the Lord of the Mountain demands a life, the when and where and how of it will not change.
“How are you, Father?”
He takes a sharp, wheezing breath. “I was discussing the laws of Ammara with Amir. There is much he still has to learn.”
“Why talk of such things now?” I lean forward, hand curled into a loose fist, as if I might hammer it upon that which builds before my eyes, this reality in which my brother rules and our father lies dead in the ground.
“The writing is on the wall, Sarai. I can no longer delay for fear of leaving Amir ignorant and uninformed. We cannot leave our people vulnerable.”
What of me?It is a soundless cry, voiced only in my mind. “Father—”
“Enough. We will speak no more of this. Am I understood?”
I look to Amir. He looks at me.
“Understood,” we murmur in unison.
While Amir pulls the king into further conversation, I select the empty seat next to my sister-in-law and dip my chin in greeting. “Tuleen.”
She smiles, though it lacks the ease I would expect from genuine pleasure at seeing me. It is likely deserved. I have shown no willing kindness toward Tuleen—my own mistake. There are some days I could absolutely use another friend in the palace.
“I wanted to offer you an apology,” I say.
She is watchful, but she dips her chin, signaling me to go on.
“I was unfair to judge you. You have shown nothing but kindness toward me—”
“Why did you?” Curt, clear, but kind.
