His expression flickers with emotion. “It’s Javed’s pet. Supposedly it was a trading gift from the northern kingdom of Everlea.”
“Pet or not, I saw a lot of innocents brutally slaughtered. Why would the crown prince do something like that?”
He stares at me and then runs a hand through his hair. A muscle clenches in his cheek, but eventually he answers. “As far as I know, it’s part of a test.”
“For what?”
Indecision crosses his face. He has no reason to trust me, but he has come here for a reason, so I wait in silence. “My brother is searching for something. A power that manifests when in mortal danger. Sooner or later, he’ll find who he’s looking for.”
“So he’s trying to kill us to incite a... areaction?” I stuff my clammy palms into the pockets of my robe. “What kind of power?”
“An extinct one.” He sighs. “From a prophecy about magic.”
Wild laughter bubbles up my throat, and his warm hand covers my mouth. The scent of him—smelted iron, bergamot, and spice—invades my senses before his palm drops away when I freeze and remember where we are. On a balcony where any of the guards can see. I inhale a breath and keep my voice low. “That’s what this is about? A random prophecy?”
“Where did you get the jadu for your dagger?” the prince asks.
“I bought it from a trader,” I say with defiance.
“And the runes carved onto its surface?”
Sands, so he had noticed those. “They’re nothing. Etchings that I made up.”
“You engraved them?”
I hesitate but nod. “They’re not runes of power,” I explain quickly.
His face goes so blank that I suspect he’s hiding something. Had he seen the runes glow from where he’d been in the arena? In hindsight, I’m not even sure what I’d seen. The shimmer off my blade could havejust been a trick of the sunlight and the sand and my panic, nothing more.
“We need to get you out of here,” he murmurs, and I stare at him in confusion. Why wouldhewant to help me? I’m no one to him.
Our eyes lock for a moment, but before I can respond, I hear the sound of my handmaidens entering the chamber. Hastily, I turn toward the door to let them know I’ll be inside in a moment—the last thing I need is them barging out here and fueling the gossip mill. I have enough attention on me as it is.
But when I turn back, the prince is gone.
Though his worrying words linger.
Could I skip the ball scheduled for that evening? Clem’s ill, and I could claim the same. It’s a tempting thought. But, with only twenty women left, my absence would be noted, and I’d rather not find out what would happen if anyone discovered I was lying. And I shouldn’t depend on Prince Roshan, either. I have to depend on myself. Which means buying myself time to figure out an escape plan that doesn’t get me killed.
If this ball is a culling challenge as well, I won’t buy time through being a wallflower. People aredying. And this so-called prophesized power that the prince is searching for is no longer gilded in civility.
If I am to survive, I need to be noticed. Curse. My. Luck.
With a determined breath, I stride to the massive armoire and pull Laleh’s special teal outfit from its sheath, my fingers gliding over the silky fabric. Both handmaidens practically vibrate with delight, though my heart is in my throat when they finish fastening the silk to my body. I look...notlike me.
Off my body, the two-piece ensemble had been provocative enough. On my body, the garments cling to my ample curves like a slinky second skin. The beaded bodice hugs my chest, the embroidered neckline swooping down into wide belled sleeves that taper back to my wrists. The top itself leaves a swathe of skin at my hips exposed, grazing the jeweled waistband of pants that fall in sheerfolds to the floor, where the voluminous material gathers into cuffs at my ankles. A delicate headpiece attached to a sheer silver-and-teal veil crowns my hair. Filigree bangles at my wrists and dainty slippers are the finishing touches.
Laleh would flaunt the hell out of this. On me it feels uncomfortable and unfamiliar, with far too much skin on display, but I am assured by my enthusiastic handmaidens that I am a vision and sure to catch Prince Javed’s attention. I swallow my discomfort. That’s the plan, even if I don’t like it. I glance longingly to where I’ve hidden my dagger beneath my mattress for safekeeping, but there’s no way I can conceal it underneath this filmy fabric.
My handmaidens escort me through the palace toward the western turret, passing through a gallery that has my neck craning. A pair of double doors are open to reveal a towering column of bookshelves, and I jerk to a stop. Is that thelibrary? I move longingly toward it, wanting a better look, but one of my handmaidens coughs loudly, looking pointedly at me. With a sigh, I make a mental note of the location and quicken my steps.
We enter an enormous foyer with gilded marble pillars and two curving staircases flanking each side of the room. Carved likenesses of the royal family are on prominent display, though I notice one member is glaringly absent. Prince Roshan doesn’t appear to have his own bust. I shouldn’t feel a pulse of pity for him, but I do. I may be poor and the furthest thing from a princess, but I’ve always known the love and affection of family.
Lines of gorgeously garbed women ascend the stairs, and I dutifully follow until we reach the top, where the handmaidens bow and then take their leave. I squash down the small pulse of panic that I’m making an enormous mistake by drawing attention to myself and hold my head high. It’s one evening... all I have to do is make it through. The plan is to be noticed enough, but nottoomuch. The idea of spending any actual time with the crown prince is nauseating.
Would he try to grope me in a dark corner?
I shake off my nerves as I reach the ballroom entrance.
