The silence that followed rang in Aisha’s ears. Did he actually believe they considered Slevaborg an ally? Perhaps he wanted to give that impression to Gruisea, which suggested Tariq had successfully poked the bear.
‘The thing is,’ Zara began, ‘Avanid has its own ties to Gruisea.’
A patronising smirk came and went on Zahvik’s face. ‘If you are referring to Princess Aisha’s infamous one-day marriage?—’
‘It’s Queen Aisha,’ Aisha said, surprising even herself. ‘Whoever told you the marriage only lasted one day was either ill-informed or has intentionally misled you.’
Bilal pulled out a handkerchief and touched it to his brow.
‘Forgive me,’ Zahvik said, his voice silky and low. ‘One would assume the marriage ended the moment you killed King Hamza.’
‘There has been no annulment.’ She was too angry to concede. ‘And history has shown us that some crowns grow sharper the longer they’re worn.’
Maryam looked up at that. It was brief, subtle, but when her eyes met Aisha’s, all the hairs on her arms rose. Zahvik must have sensed it, because he glanced over his shoulder for the first time. Maryam’s gaze dropped the moment he started to move, a picture of obedience once more. Aisha was desperate to speak to Maryam, but there simply wasn’t a way.
Bilal’s gaze had drifted to the palace walls. ‘We cannot lose any more.’
Aisha’s heart twisted as she looked at him.
After a few seconds, Bilal blinked, as if startled by something, and his brow creased with confusion. ‘Why are we all outside?’
Zara immediately rose from her seat. ‘This heat,’ she said smoothly. ‘It certainly takes its toll. Come, Baba. You have that meeting to prepare for.’ She gently took his arm to help him up. ‘Forgive us, Your Holiness. My sisters will see you out.’
Bilal didn’t resist as she led him away, and he didn’t look in Zahvik’s direction again.
The sectarian watched him until he was out of sight. ‘Caring for family is very important.’ He paused. ‘Especially when they are so fragile.’
Safiya bit down on her lip.
‘We thank you for the pardon,’ Lilah said, rising. ‘Was there anything else you needed to discuss before departing?’
Taking the hint, Zahvik slowly stood and straightened his robes. ‘I think I have said all that needs to be said.’
Aisha’s gaze flicked to Maryam again. She stood like a beautiful statue of a prisoner, both composed and defeated. Aisha wanted to demand the chains be removed—or at least say her name aloud. But if Zahvik had brought her as bait, as provocation, then she refused to give him something else he could weaponise.
Zahvik began his walk back through the garden, and Maryam followed like a shadow. He passed close to Aisha, his last chance to try to intimidate her. Aisha refused to look at him. She couldn’t tolerate his smug face a moment longer. But she did look at Maryam. She was so close that Aisha could touch her.
In a moment, she would be gone.
Acting on an impulse, Aisha reached for her, fingers closing around Maryam’s wrist. The chains stilled, and time cracked open.
The scent of salt hit first, sharp and thick. The creak of wood straining against water and sails flapping under a black sky. When she looked up, she saw a red flag with a black sun.
A shoreline appeared.
A shoreline covered in bodies. Dozens. Hundreds, maybe. Holy warriors alongside soldiers in blue uniforms, strewn across a blood-soaked beach like discarded dolls.
Aisha returned with a jolt and found Lilah at her side, holding tightly to her arm. Maryam was walking away.
‘This way,’ Safiya said, keeping Zahvik focused on leaving.
He passed beneath the garden arch and disappeared from view. Just before Maryam crossed the threshold, she looked back at Aisha. Then she was gone.
Aisha swayed, then sank onto the couch, unable to stay upright.
Lilah sat with her, keeping hold of her arm. ‘Have you lost your mind? He could have seen you. Aisha, he’s a sectarian.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Aisha breathed. ‘I had to see.’ Her tongue felt numb.
