I shake my head. “I’ll bet my right arm that the Dahaka are a front, some kind of underhanded power grab by either Regulus or Antares,” I say. “They might claim to be anti-monarchy and egalitarian, but if they destabilize the crown, we’re just exchanging one tyrant for another.”
Laleh groans. “Seriously, though, who wants to read about rebel attacks on jadu mines and which house has the biggest cock? It’s depressing.”
I can’t help but laugh at her irreverent comparison. Sometimes it does seem like a cock-measuring contest with the four houses. Pulling my protective goggles back over my eyes, I check the now red-hot blade and remove the dagger carefully from the forge, burying it in the nearby barrel of sand.
“I like to stay abreast of what’s happening in the kingdom. I want to be informed. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Blah, blah, and more blah.” She sighs dramatically, batting her eyes and drawing one of the silks from her armband across the lower half of her face in a playful move. “But speaking of the monarchy... just for a minute, can we talk about my fantasy about moving toKaldari, living in the palace, and seducing a sexy-as-sin prince so that I can ride him right into his gold-threaded cushions?”
I nearly choke on my spit, though I should be used to Laleh’s shocking tongue. Unlike me, it’s no secret that she’s had many lovers. Wiping my hands on my leather apron, I remove my goggles and prop a hip on my workbench. “Prince Javed?”
She lets out a lusty moan. “Yes! Ashes below, I’d let him do unspeakable things to me.”
“Aren’t you seeing that Jaxxian girl?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “We ended it, so it’s perfect timing.”
“You know what they say about the crown prince, right? That he’s a womanizer with an ego the size of the desert.” I shake my head.
Laleh gives a shrug. “So what if he likes sex? So do I. Besides, he’s got stacks of money, he’s royalty, and he’s hot.”
“All the building blocks of a great relationship,” I mutter with a snort.
Laleh flops onto a narrow day bed perched in the corner and props herself on one elbow. “Not like I’ll ever know. Seems like the royal family is on the hunt for a wife for him.”
“And that concerns us how?” I murmur, wondering absently if the dagger needs another round of hardening. I draw it out an inch from the sand and study the swirling milky opal hues in the metal.
Laleh exhales with an obnoxious groan, letting me know I’ve obviously missed something of vital importance. “Hello,the crown prince of Oryndhr is planning to choose a bride, and he’s looking among all the houses, even common-born. I’m pretty sure that concerns anyone who is unmarried and breathing. Maybe even a few married ones.”
An unexpected spark from the forge sends hot ember dust onto my unprotected hands and I yelp. “Flaming sands, that hurt!”
My best friend offers zero sympathy. “The king and the queen will choose a hundred women to present to the prince.”
“How exactly are they choosing these women?” I blow on mystinging wrist and dab the skin with some cooling ointment from the jar I keep handy. “At random?”
“No, silly. Obviously, the prince has a type.”
“Which means some stunning specimen with melon-sized breasts and a brain the size of a walnut.”
She giggles. “Joke all you want, but supposedly special invitations went out weeks ago. Like real, expensive paper invitations! Black and gold. Ask around, if you don’t believe me.”
The floor tilts beneath my feet, and I can’t hear anything beyond the sudden high-pitched buzzing in my ears. My eyes fall to the crumpled black ball lying in the corner, my stomach winding into hard little knots.
I moisten dry lips. “What...whatkind of invitations?”
“Fancyones,” she repeats in an exasperated tone. “Seriously, Sura, haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve been saying?” She stares at me as I bend to scoop up the discarded parchment with numb fingers. “What’s the matter? You’ve gone all green.”
“Fancy like this?” I hold up the parchment in trembling hands and watch her eyes go comically wide as they settle on the royal signet.
“Is that—? When?How?” she stammers, before screaming so loudly she makes my ears ring. “You sly wench, why didn’t you tell me? How is it that the supposed best friend is the last to know anything?”
“I only received it before you got here,” I reply faintly, my fingers tracing the cracked wax seal and the elegant, embossed script of my name.
Holy mother of sandstorms, it’snota trick?
“Are you sure this isn’t a joke? Simin up to her games again?”
“No!” Laleh says with a scowl on my behalf. “Fatima and Parvi received invitations, too.” She grins, the scowl fading as quickly as it’d come. “You’re going to love this—I heard that Simin is claiming hers has been lost, and her father sent messengers to the palace, convinced that his precious jewel has been overlooked.” No stranger herself toSimin’s mean streak, either, Laleh chortles. “I can’t wait to tell her that you were chosen. She deserves to be knocked down a peg or forty.”
