Briefly, Kamran wondered whether the minister of defense had accused him so, but Kamran struggled to believe the oily man had influence enough to move his grandfather to this level of anger. Had the minister complained to the king, Kamran would’ve more likely heard about it in the light of day; would’ve been chastised and sent on his waywith a warning to behave himself.
But this—
This was different. The king had enlisted armed men to fetch him from his private rooms in the dead of night. This was bigger than a moment of childishness in a boardroom.
Was it not?
A tense stretch of silence spun out between them, a long minute during which Kamran was forced to make peace with the worst. Kamran was a prince, yes, but he was a soldier first, and this was not the first time he’d been faced with such brutality.
With forced calm, he said, “I confess I know not, Your Majesty, how to defend myself against so baseless an accusation. Even all these moments of silence have not inspired my imagination to conjure a suitable explanation for these charges. I cannot now attempt to justify that which I have no hope of understanding.”
King Zaal released an angry rasp of a laugh, an exclamation of disbelief. “You deny, then—in full—any and all allegations leveled against you? You make no effort to plead your case?”
“I have no case to plead,” Kamran said sharply, “for I know not why I stand here before you, nor why you would send men to my rooms to restrain me in such an inhumane manner. In what way have I committed treason, pray tell? At what point in time might I have managed such a feat?”
“You insist on feigning ignorance?” King Zaal said angrily, his right hand clenched tight around his golden mace. “You would insult me even now, to my face?”
A muscle jumped in Kamran’s jaw. “I see now that yourmind is already decided against me. That you refuse even to tell me what crime I have committed is evidence enough. If you wish me imprisoned, so be it. If you desire my head, you may have it. Worry not that I will struggle, Your Majesty. I would not defy the orders of my king.”
The prince finally sheathed his sword and bowed. He kept his gaze on the filthy, pockmarked stone floor of the dungeons for what seemed a century but was more likely minutes. Or seconds.
When King Zaal finally spoke, his voice was subdued. “The girl is not dead,” he said.
Kamran looked up. It was a moment before he could speak, a brief head rush leaving him, for an instant, unsteady. “You’ve not killed her?”
King Zaal stared, unblinking, at the prince. “You are surprised.”
“Indeed I am, quite.” Kamran hesitated. “Though I admit I don’t understand the nature of the non sequitur. Of course, I’m deeply curious to know the reason for your changed mind toward the girl, but I am also anxious, Your Highness, to know whether I must soon make these grotesque quarters my home, and at the moment the latter point has claimed my full and undivided attention.”
The king sighed.
He closed his eyes, pressed the tips of his fingers to his temple. “I sent six men after her tonight. And the girl is not dead.”
Slowly, the frozen gears in Kamran’s brain began to turn. His rusty mind had its excuses: the hour was late; the princewas exhausted; his consciousness had been preoccupied with a recent effort to defend himself against a surprise attack ordered by his own grandfather. Even so, he wondered that it had taken him so long to understand.
When he did, the breath seemed to leave his body.
Kamran closed his eyes as renewed anger—outrage—built in his bones. His voice, when he spoke, was so cold he hardly recognized himself.
“You think I forewarned her.”
“More than that,” said the king. “I think you assisted her.”
“What an odious suggestion, Your Majesty. The very idea is absurd.”
“It was quite a while before you answered your door tonight,” said Zaal. “I wonder: Were you still slithering back into your rooms? In the dead of night, dragged from your bedchamber, you now stand before me fully dressed, wearing your swords and scabbards. Do you expect me to believe you were abed?”
Kamran laughed, then. Like a lunatic, he laughed.
“Do you deny it?” King Zaal demanded.
Kamran leveled a violent glare at his grandfather, hatred flashing through his body. “With my very soul. That you even think me capable of such unworthiness is so insulting as to astonish me to the point of madness.”
“You were determined to save her.”
“I asked you merely to consider sparing the life of an innocent!” Kamran cried, no longer bothering to contain his temper. “It was a basic plea for humanity, nothing more. You think me so weak as to go against a formal decree issued bythe king of my own empire? You think me so frail of mind, so weak of spine?”
For the first time in Kamran’s life, he watched his grandfather falter. The older man opened then closed his mouth, struggling for the right words.
