“Which other one?”
“You know fucking well which one. Your friend with the greenhair. Where is she?” The last three words are a bellow, rage making his face go purple.
I force my eyes to go wide with fright and then brim with tears. “What do you mean? Where’s Laleh? Why is she missing?” I lay it on thickly, tears spilling down my cheeks. “What did youdo? You promised she would be safe!”
At this point, Javed stares at me with such violence that I feel a tiny frisson of alarm. I know that he can’t hurt me—my magic will protect me—but I suddenly understand how much he’s like his mother. Perhaps even worse than the queen mother because he doesn’t have her stony control. He stalks from the room, and I hear him give the order to search the palace from top to bottom or heads will roll. I can only hope that Laleh managed to get out or stays hidden. My stomach churns with dread. Maybe it was a mistake to send her away. If she gets caught, I’ll never forgive myself.
“Clean up this mess and move her to the east tower.” Javed strides back to me, his fury palpable as the women in the room scatter like ants to do his bidding. “You’ve just lost your aunt her fingers. I’ll cut them off myself.”
All traces of my alarm vanish, and my expression is ice cold as I glare at him. “You won’t touch a hair on her head. You have very little leverage, Majesty. Don’t push me.”
The threat hangs like a blade between us, razor sharp and thirsty for blood. Javed looks like he wants nothing more than to tear me to pieces with his bare hands. Struggling to compose himself, he slams his fist into the wall and curses vilely.
“One way or the other, you’ll pay for this, my foolish bride.” He bares his teeth. “You have one hour.”
My last hour of freedom.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I stare at myself in the mirrored glass.
Glistening gems drip from the top of my veil to the top of my chest in a beaded curtain. The embroidered jacket over my undertunic is fitted, handsewn with exquisite pearls and rubies, tapering to my waist and then flaring out in wide, gold-dusted panels to the knees of its matching undergown.
Unlike the sheer golden outfit I’d worn for Javed’s engagement farce, these wedding garments are heavy and crimson. From the translucent scarlet covering my bejeweled hair to the tips of my ruby slippers, I am a bride dressed in blood. A sacrificial lamb. Though not one being led to the slaughter. I’m willingly going there with my eyes wide open.
I’ve thought about trying to find Amma for real and blasting our way out with magic, but I don’t know exactly where her room is in this maze of a citadel. My stardust simurgh form had passed through walls and floors. All I remember is that she had been in the northern section of the palace, near what looked like servants’ quarters. Attempting escape would be a risky gamble with time I don’t have.
Right now, the only half-baked plan I’ve formed is to wait until we are in the middle of whatever ritual the queen has concocted with her son and attempt to take them both out at the same time. Of course, that will mean that I’ll have to consummate the marriage vows withJaved. The very thought of him kissing me or touching me is sickening, but whatever pain he has in store for me on our wedding night won’t last forever.
Sacrifice one for the many.
Vena’s words—but I’ll be the sacrifice, no one else.
“Lady Suraya,” one of the guards calls through the bedroom door. “The king requests your presence.”
My escort’s words are much too close to the ones that had been printed on the cursed invitation that had set me on this path. A heavy weight settles upon my chest, making it hard for me to breathe or reply. I fumble for words. “Thank you. I’ll need a moment.”
Gasping for air, I dismiss the waiting handmaidens and lean against the closed door, savoring my last minutes of privacy and freedom. This is it. Countless women in Oryndhr have dreamed of this moment—of marrying a royal—all except me. I don’t want to be queen. I don’t want to be some starlight warrior. I don’t want to be immortal. I just want...
What do you want?
I’m not sure I’ve ever asked myself that question. Not truly.
Tears burn the backs of my eyes. I want to go back to a simpler time. I want peace for my countrymen and goodwill between the houses. Happiness. A hopeful future. I want love blanketing me. I want my father to live to a ripe old age. And Amma, Laleh, and life at the inn. A family of my own one day. Old friends and new. I want to see Clem again. Sands, I’ll even tolerate Simin and Cyrill.
While I’m making impossible wishes, I want love, too. But there’s only one man I desire and he’s hopefully far away from this palace of lies. His handsome face with those sparkling, soulful brown eyes and that perpetual smirk is imprinted on my mind. Stars, I miss him.
If only wishes were so easy... or real.
Overcome with misery, I swipe at my damp eyes and try to put some steel in my spine. I’m moving toward the door when a waft ofair blows into my face. My gaze flicks to the stained-glass window, but it is firmly shut.
A second eerie gust makes my skirts billow. My eyes scale the room, catching sight of shifting fabric on one of the walls. One of the tapestries on the right side of the room undulates, and my breath quickens. A form takes shape—a large, ominous form, pushing outward into the embroidered bands of textile.
Suddenly, all I can think of is the starsdamned prophecy.
Has Fero come to claim me?
My hands and runes begin to glow of their own accord as my magic surges to the fore, ready to defend. Hot white light arcs through me when the dark shadow moves to the edge of the tapestry and a covered head emerges along with a familiar face... one I’d never expect to see in a million years. I rub my eyes in disbelief.
