His eyes crack open. A white film clouds their pupils. “Sarai,” he rattles. “I’d hoped you would come.”
I bite my cheek. How many times have I wished to hear these words? I could never have imagined it would be on his deathbed.
The king’s thin chest stutters, a sound of liquid in the lungs. “Where is Amir?” he wheezes out.
“I’m here, Father.”
He nods, the motion stilted. “That is good. You are… together, as you should be.”
Settling into the vacated chair, I grip Father’s hand with both of mine, as if I might shelter its frailty, the dulled rings that had once gleamed. “I’m sorry I was not here sooner. Notus and I were delayed. A red storm destroyed his sailer, and—” And this was a gift I may have never received, to bid Father farewell. There are more important things to discuss than my delay. I have no idea where to begin.
Slowly, Amir lowers himself into the chair next to mine. I take a breath. “Papa—”
“Do you know what I wish, Sarai?”
I stare down at our father, who watches me unblinkingly. The full force of his attention unnerves me. “I don’t, Papa.”
“I wish that I knew for certain you’d be safe after I was gone. That Ammara and Amir would be safe as well.”
My lips part, then close, no words to come. I see what this is about. “I admit, I’ve made a mess of things.”
“If you were to marry Prince Balior—”
“Iwon’t. Please, just—” I sigh, eyes closed. “You will have to trust that I’m doing the best that I can. If you knew—” But I’m not sure now is the time to reveal what lurks in the shadows. It would certainly not ease Father’s passing.
“What?” King Halim presses. “If I knew what?”
I look to Amir. He stares intensely back.
“What are you keeping from us, Sarai?” my brother demands.
Fear makes fists of my hands, which I press into the edge of the mattress. This is not how I wanted to spend my last moments with my father.
“I know you had your heart set on a union between Prince Balior and me, Papa, but I don’t trust him. I believe his motives in agreeing to the arranged marriage to be nefarious.”
Amir gapes at me. “What are you going on about?” He never considered Prince Balior to be the enemy. None of us did.
King Halim says to Amir, “Leave us.”
My brother doesn’t move. “Whatever it is Sarai knows, don’t you think I should be informed, considering I’m your heir?”
“Leave us,” he repeats more forcefully.
The slow pulsation of Amir’s jaw is the only indication of his indignation. To my surprise, he doesn’t argue. With a final glance at us both, he departs, closing the door softly behind him.
“Papa.” I speak quietly, as I might communicate with a child. “I believe Prince Balior intends to free the beast from the labyrinth.”
“What!” The king struggles to prop himself against the headboard. “Sarai, this is ridiculous.”
Gently, I press him back down onto the mattress. He glares at me all the while. “It’s true.”
He shakes his head, looking elsewhere. Eventually, as thoughunable to deny the absurdity of my claim, his attention returns to mine. “Prince Balior is an honest man. I don’t want his reputation tainted due to idle gossip. Do you have proof of this?”
So I start at the beginning. At this point, I have nothing to lose. I inform him of the records I found, the information unearthed about the beast, its personal account of the events leading up to its imprisonment, Prince Balior’s interest in the labyrinth. Despite all evidence laid before him, however, King Halim’s doubt is palpable. “Sarai—”
“He has brought his army into Ishmah,” I state, the last card I have to offer in this terrible game of leverage.
Every bit of color drains from King Halim’s face. “What?”
