Tariq prayed he was right.
Kaidon fell back as they reached Aisha’s door, waiting for them across the corridor. Tariq knocked, and Maryam answered the door, bowing before moving aside. Aisha replaced her in the doorway, and Tariq forgot to breathe.
She wore a deep blue gown, with gold embroidery that climbed like vines along the bodice and sleeves. The neckline was stitched with tiny beads that looked like stars. A belt cinched her waist, highlighting her curves. Her hair was intricately braided and interwoven with gold thread, and a small sapphire pendant rested at the hollow of her throat.
He needed to say something, but the words refused to come.
‘I can’t tell if that’s a good reaction or a bad one,’ Aisha said, scrutinising his face. ‘Maryam assured me this was the right choice.’
‘It’s… the right choice.’ Tariq cleared his throat and tried again. ‘You look…’ Come on, words. ‘Breathtaking.’
Light filled her face. ‘Thank you. Hopefully the queen doesn’t reprimand me for the gloves.’ She looked him over. ‘Avanid’s colours look good on you, by the way,’ she said, gesturing to his sky-blue tunic.
‘Had it made in your honour.’ He stepped forwards and offered his arm. ‘Shall we?’
Aisha took his arm, and they set off towards the feast hall.
‘Should we have a code phrase like last time?’ she asked.
He thought for a moment. ‘How about I check in with you by asking if you would like some more wine. If you’re fine, say no. If you need time to regroup, say yes, and we can regroup.’
‘Better make it a slow pour.’
‘That was the plan.’
She looked up at him. ‘But not so slow that it reflects badly on our relationship.’
The corners of his mouth lifted.
She faced forwards again. ‘It’s not work, you know.’
He gave her a questioning look.
‘Conversation with you.’ She moved closer. ‘It’s rather easy.’
He could almost hear Kaidon’s ears flapping behind them.
‘I agree,’ Tariq said. ‘So we just go in and talk like us.’
‘Like us,’ she echoed, like she was testing the phrase out.
Aisha brought her free hand up to rest atop the other one, moving closer still in the process. Gods, he loved the feel of her beside him. The world felt so much quieter.
They arrived at the grand double doors, and Aisha increased the distance between them slightly, one hand returning to her side. She pressed her painted lips together, then found a smile, aware that all eyes would be on her once those doors opened.
‘Ready?’ he asked.
She nodded.
Tariq gestured to the guard waiting to open the doors, and a moment later, they swung open. Sounds of conversation, laughter, and clinking goblets spilled out into the corridor. Dozens of nobles and foreign emissaries filled the space, gathered beneath the soaring arched ceilings draped with blue and yellow silk. Long tables lined the sides of the hall, covered with platters of roasted meats, fruits, and stuffed pastries.
Tariq felt the collective gaze of the court shift the moment they stepped into view. Aisha’s head was high, her expression serene, but Tariq could feel the slight tension in her fingers where they rested against his arm. He made sure to keep pace with her and not scowl back at the staring nobility.
Conversation died, replaced by a heavy silence. Some of the guests smiled at them as they passed by, while others just watched. At the far end of the hall, his parents were seated on a dais. His father wore green robes, his crown weighing down his frown. Beside him, his mother was a picture of icy composure in a maroon gown. Her unblinking gaze followed Aisha’s every move.
The pair approached the dais to kiss the hand of the king.
‘Please,’ King Hamza said, his voice carrying across the hall, ‘the evening is yours and yours alone. Demonstrate to all here why they should bless this union.’
