She squeezed his hand. ‘Yes. It’s so much more than a political marriage.’
The lines around his mouth softened, and he breathed out slowly. Aisha rested her forehead against his knuckles.
‘Have you seen him?’ he asked after a moment of silence. ‘Zahvik?’
She nodded. ‘Yes. And you will too, at some point.’
He fell silent for a long time. ‘I told myself that if I ever saw him again, it would be his last day alive.’
She pressed her eyes closed. ‘I think we all told ourselves the same thing at some point, but here we are.’
‘He cannot be trusted.’
She straightened to look at him. ‘Of course not.’
Bilal’s expression darkened. ‘You cannot let them take it.’
‘It?’
He gripped her hand so hard she flinched. ‘They take things, slowly. And by the time you realise what is happening?—’
‘They don’t get anything else,’ Aisha said firmly. ‘They’ve taken enough.’ She held his gaze. ‘Nothing else.’
He sagged back into his chair, breath shallow. ‘Nothing else.’ It was clear he was done.
‘You need some rest.’ Aisha patted his hand. ‘I’ll come back later.’
He nodded, seemingly distracted.
Rising, she walked to the door, then glanced back. He was staring at the open window, and she knew he would draw the curtain the moment she left. ‘Rest up, Baba.’
She exited the chamber and closed the door behind her, swallowing the lump in her throat. ‘Keep a close eye on him,’ she instructed the guard.
He bowed his head. ‘Your Highness.’
She walked slowly down the corridor, eyes on her feet as she processed the conversation with her father. She looked up when she heard footsteps coming in the other direction, then froze when she locked eyes with Zahvik. He stopped also, clasping his hands behind his back as he took her in. A single guard stood behind him.
A single witness.
‘Princess,’ he said. ‘Have you been to see your father?’
She didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer.
‘It is the first time he has left the palace walls in many years, is it not?’ His voice was smooth and leisurely.
Aisha forced herself to respond. ‘Yes.’ It was the best she could do.
Zahvik watched her carefully. ‘I do hope he is coping.’
Her gaze fell to the fragile skin of his neck, and she imagined ripping it open with nothing but her fingernails. Such a thought should have brought shame, but it didn’t.
‘The mind is a delicate thing,’ he continued. ‘We must always protect it.’
Again, she didn’t reply.
He tilted his head. ‘You remind me of her, you know.’ He said it almost gently. ‘Your mother.’
She stopped breathing.
