When Tariq didn’t speak, Zara continued. ‘Lilah is a paragon of grace and dignity. She has been trained in diplomacy from a young age, mastering the art of negotiation along with other relevant skills. Her intellect is matched only by her compassion.’
Tariq’s gaze went briefly to Lilah, his expression unchanging.
‘She understands the weight of duty,’ Zara added. ‘She knows what it means to serve her family, her people, and the greater good.’
‘From behind walls,’ Tariq replied casually.
His words had Aisha speaking up in defence of her sister. ‘I’m sure you’re aware of the reasons for that, Your Highness.’
Green eyes locked on hers once more. ‘A queen must understand the realities of the world outside the walls of her keep. Gruisea is not Avanid.’
‘Lilah is a quick study,’ Zara said. ‘Adaptable.’
His gaze shifted back to Lilah. ‘And yet your sisters speak for you.’
Flustered, Lilah opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out.
Aisha was tempted to step in and fill the silence, but this was Lilah’s moment.
‘I—’ Lilah cleared her throat when her voice cracked. ‘I would do everything within my power to rise to the occasion, for the sake of our families and kingdoms.’
Tariq shook his head. ‘You wouldn’t survive.’
Safiya, who had done remarkably well to remain silent up until that point, could stay quiet no longer. ‘Do they not teach decorum in Gruisea?’
Tariq shrugged. ‘I thought we all agreed not to waste each other’s time.’
Lilah reached for her cup, but her hand was trembling and it slipped from her fingers, smashing on the ground. She stared down at it in horror.
A servant rushed forwards to clean the mess, and Aisha instinctively bent to help. Apparently Tariq had similar instincts, because they both reached for the same shard of porcelain, fingers meeting. On contact, a sudden wave of heat surged up Aisha’s arm, and the ground blurred and faded. The sound of her sisters’ voices dissolved, replaced by the sound of waves lapping against a wooden hull. The tang of salt filled her senses. Looking around, she realised she was aboard a ship, the deck swaying gently beneath her feet. Aisha gripped the railing for balance, eyes drawn to the horizon, where a rugged coastline beckoned her. Then she saw him, standing a few feet away as the wind whipped his hair.
Tariq.
When he looked in her direction, the scene disappeared. The ground and broken cup were before her once more. And Tariq’s face, mere inches from hers, staring.
Aisha bolted upright, her pulse pounding in her ears. She took hold of her chair to stop herself from swaying. Thankfully, another servant arrived, filling the space between her and the prince, silently sweeping up the mess with a small broom.
Aisha looked around to see if anyone else had noticed. Safiya and Lilah were out of their chairs, politely excusing themselves. Understandable given the humiliation. But Zara was looking straight at Aisha, head tilted and an all-knowing look on her face. It had been a long time since Aisha had experienced a vision. She thought she had shut that part of herself down—just as Zara wanted.
When Aisha could take the stares no longer, she rose. ‘Please excuse me.’ She managed a smile, though she still felt dizzy. ‘I’m just going to check on Yasmin and Omar.’
Tariq stood courteously, despite his far from courteous words earlier, and bowed his head.
Aisha left, trying not to hurry but desperately needing a moment. She was almost at the main doors when she heard Zara call her name. ‘Aisha, stop.’
Her feet obeyed her sister against her own wishes. Damn feet. Aisha turned, slowly, and watched Zara approach. Her face appeared calm, but her eyes gave away her true state. She stopped in front of Aisha and looked around before speaking.
‘What happened back there?’ Her eyes moved over Aisha’s face as if looking for lies before she had even opened her mouth.
‘She was clearly nervous, and the cup slipped?—’
‘You know very well I’m not asking about that.’
Aisha had no choice but to disappoint her with the truth. ‘I should have worn gloves. I didn’t think. It had been so long.’
Concern was etched on Zara’s face. ‘You saw something.’
‘I don’t know.’ A lie. ‘It’s been over a year since?—’
