Farrah looked at Aisha, who was limp in his arms. ‘She has bewitched you.’
Tariq shook his head, his breath shaking with anger. Anger at his mother, but also at himself, because she was right. Aisha had bewitched him. Body and soul.
‘Your Majesty,’ Jamil said, ‘justice must be served.’
‘It will be.’ He looked between the three of them. ‘But it will be served as I see fit. Your opinions are now void.’
He sounded much more confident than he felt. He needed space from all of them—even Aisha. Releasing his hold on her, he stepped back.
‘You cannot protect her from her own actions,’ Farrah said. ‘There are consequences when you go around killing kings.’
He had no right to decide Aisha’s fate while still so shamefully in love with her. And yet, because he had the power to do so, he would.
When he looked at Aisha, he saw she was shaking. The flames hadn’t touched her, but they had scorched something far deeper. She had nearly died the same death as her mother.
‘Take Aisha back to her cell and remain there with her,’ he told Kaidon. ‘No one in. No one out. Understood?’
Kaidon stepped forwards and gently took hold of Aisha’s arm. ‘No one in. No one out,’ he repeated.
Tariq backed away from Aisha, and her eyes followed him.
‘Where are you going?’ Farrah asked.
He turned away and left them all standing there, ignoring the questions. He entered the smoke-choked corridor with a single-minded purpose: to get his wife out of Gruisea. Not just for her, but for himself. If she stayed, she’d die. If she stayed, he would unravel piece by piece.
The shipyards. The patrol schedules. He knew them all. All he needed was an opening wide enough to smuggle her to the port. It was his only option, because the three people behind him would stop at nothing to see her destroyed.
Tariq moved through the castle grounds like a man possessed. The air was refreshingly cold against his face. Once indoors, he crossed the lower hall and took the back stairs to avoid the main corridors. The further he got from them all, the clearer his mind became. He wasn’t just reacting anymore.
He was planning.
Chapter 34
The smell of smoke on Aisha’s skin was fading, but it was woven into her mind. She sat cross-legged on the floor, her back against the cell door. The wool blanket covered her legs.
On the other side was Kaidon, knees drawn up and arms slung over them. They hadn’t exchanged more than a few words as they each stared at their own patch of stone wall. Aisha found herself watching the slow shift of dust in the light, willing her mind to be blank instead of racing in fractured loops.
‘I saw a covenweaver burned in the city once,’ Kaidon said, his voice flat. ‘A simple shift in the breeze had it over and done with rather quickly.’
Aisha pressed her eyes closed.
‘You know, this might be the messiest wedding in history,’ he continued. ‘Historians will give it a dramatic name and write it into their books. You’ll be forever referenced as a warning to young lovers.’
She opened her eyes. ‘The Poison-Pyre Wedding.’
‘The Ashes and Arsenic Affair,’ he replied.
‘The King Killer’s Nuptials.’
‘The Torch-and-Treason Ceremony.’
‘That one is catchy,’ she said.
Kaidon let out a long breath. ‘Except I don’t think you killed King Hamza.’
His words dropped like a rock into still water.
‘But I understand why you took the fall,’ he said. ‘I’m a little surprised it was you, though. You’re the only one perfectly positioned to help the rest of your family. You’re no good to anyone dead.’
