“May I present the rais of Karkad,” Darrius says, the slightest growl in his voice letting me know his feelings on this particular leader. I look up and up and up. The dark-haired man had seemed like a giant from afar earlier, but he is truly huge at nearly seven feet. He’s also older than he first appeared.
He bows. “I am Masišta. I look forward to winning the tournament.” Before I can respond, he signals to a woman behind him and ushers her in front of the king. “You know my daughter, Sire, Zahre.”
If I thought that the fire raissa was unclothed before, this woman makes her look like she’s overdressed. Unlike her father’s blue garb, Zahre is boldly dressed in red and black—the king’s colors, which irritates me for no good reason—the ribbons of scarlet silk clinging lovingly to her curves in crisscross patterns before falling to a sheer skirt that leaves little to the imagination. Her hair is a reddish blond, her skin the color of fresh cream. Sparkling blue eyes hold the king’s boldly, a hint of a smile playing about her lush mouth.
Sands, I despise her already.
As the king is engaged in conversation by the two, I search the room for Laleh and see her standing next to Ani, in deep discussion.
I make my escape. I feel Darrius’s stare on my back, but I don’t look at him. I don’t even look at how well suited he and Zahre seem to be. She can be his pretend queen for all I care. And Idon’tcare, not one bit. I thread through the crowd to where Ani and Laleh are talking, but they stop when I reach them.
“You look gorgeous,” Laleh says.
I scan my friend’s bright orange dress with its gauzy skirt and notice she has somehow dyed her hair to match. “So do you!” I turn to Ani, who is in a snow-white gown edged with scarlet embroidery that looks very regal on her. “You’re beautiful, Ani.”
“Thank you.” She ducks her head and blushes, and I want to grin at how adorably awkward she is.
I fully expect to be immediately interrogated by Laleh, considering my arrival on the king’s arm, but she is whisked away to dance by one of the Verisian nobles, leaving Ani and me alone. She hands me a tumbler, and I take a cautious sip, eyes wide at the rich, lemony taste.
“Careful, it’s strong.”
“What is it?” I ask.
“Dandelion and steppe grass cider.” She wrinkles her nose. “Has an effect on the libido. The Aspacana make it. Their festivities can get very raunchy very quickly. They climb each other like trees.”
I snort at her quip; Laleh’s influence no doubt. Best I drink very sparingly, then. Even though there’s only one tree I wish to climb, and said tree is being commandeered by a very beautiful woman who makes me look like a sad, invasive weed. Unable to curb my jealousy, I stare at them as the king escorts Zahre to dance.
They seem to touch each other quite familiarly, and there’s no doubt that they are a stunning couple. His silver hair and dark good looks are offset by her flame-red locks and creamy complexion.
“Who is she to him?” I ask Ani.
“Uh...” Her hesitation makes me glance at her. “No one?”
“She doesn’t look like no one.”
Ani sighs, dropping her eyes. “A past dalliance, if you can call it that. There was a time when everyone in Everlea expected them to wed. At least, there were negotiations in progress, which I was instructed to pursue on his behalf.”
“And then?” I prod, drowning in despair, knowing that Darrius would have trusted no one else but his sister for something so important.
“You arrived with Razulek.”
By the maker, that wasn’t too long ago. Have I imagined all the moments between the king and me? The way he looked at me in my chambers? The territorial touch of his shadows? His words and letting me wear his mother’s necklace? Gods, I am the queen of fools.
My lungs feel as though they can’t fill with air. “Is she his... soul-fated?”
Ani’s eyes widen. “No. He rejected that bond years ago. This was to be a political alliance. He doesn’t love her, Sura. Hecan’tlove, not while he’s cursed.”
But the way Zahre is looking at him—it’s not only political to her. And why should it be? Torturous visions of them lying tangled together as the king unwraps that red and black fabric from her voluptuous body invade my brain out of nowhere. I claw at my bodice that’s suddenly too tight and constricting. Sands, I need air.
Gasping for breath, I gather my skirts and leave.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Bitterness and mortification have me in a dual chokehold.
There are only two things that can get me out of my own head: magic or the forge. And since I don’t have use of the former, the latter will have to do. But I can’t hammer steel in a gown, so I stomp into the castle to my quarters, trying to ignore the strains of music and the accompanying images of Darrius and Zahre wrapped together in a sultry dance.
Where did you go?The thought blasts into my head. Of course it’s the king, undoubtedly wondering why I’m ruining the important feast with my disappearing act.
