“You think I do not understand,” said his grandfather again, turning a degree to face him. “You think I don’t know why you did it, and I wonder how you can think me so indifferent.”
Kamran said nothing.
“I know why the actions of the street child shocked you so,” the king said quietly. “I know why you made a spectacle of the moment, why you felt compelled to save him. It has required of us a great deal to manage the situation, but I was not angered by your actions, for I knew you meant no harm. Indeed, I know you’d not been thinking at all.”
Kamran looked into the distance. Again, he said nothing.
King Zaal sighed. “I have seen the shape of your heart since the moment you first opened your eyes. All your life, I’ve been able to understand your actions—I’ve been able to find meaning even in your mistakes.” He paused. “But never before have I struggled as I do now. I cannot begin to fathom your abiding interest in this girl, and your actions have begun to frighten me more than I care to admit.”
“This girl?”Kamran turned back; his chest felt suddenly tight. “There is nothing to discuss as pertains to her. I thought we’d finished with that conversation. This very morning, in fact.”
“I thought so, too,” the king said, sounding suddenly tired. “And yet, already I have received reports of your unusual behavior at Baz House. Already there is discussion ofyour—yourmelancholy—as I have heard it put.”
Kamran’s jaw clenched.
“You defended a young woman in a snoda, did you not? Defended her loudly, disrespecting your aunt and terrifying the housekeeper in the process.”
Quietly, the prince muttered an oath.
“Tell me,” said the king, “was this not the very same girl we meant to extinguish? The very same snoda tethered to my demise? The one who nearly led to the ghastly transplantation of your life to our dungeons?”
Kamran’s eyes flashed in anger. He could no longer dull the anger he still felt at his grandfather’s recent betrayal, nor could he bear any longer these condescending displays of superiority. He was tired of them; tired of these pointless conversations.
What had he done wrong, truly?
Just today he’d gone to Baz House only to fulfill the duty charged him by his king; he’d not planned for the rest of it. It was not as if he meant to run away with the girl, or worse, marry her; make her queen of Ardunia. Kamran was not yet ready to admit to himself the entire truth: that in a fit of folly he might certainly have tried to make her his queen, if only she had let him.
He did not see the point in dwelling upon it.
Kamran would never see Alizeh again—of this he was certain—and he did not think he deserved to be treated thus by his grandfather. He would attend the ball tonight; he would, in the end, marry the young woman deemed best forhim, and he would, with great bitterness, stand aside while his grandfather continued to make plans to kill the girl. His mistakes were none of them irreversible; none of them so foul they deserved such unrelenting condemnation.
“She had dropped a bucket of water on the ground,” the prince said irritably. “The housekeeper was going to oust her for it. I interceded only to keep the girl in her position long enough for her to remain belowstairs. Searching her room, as you recall, was my sole mission, and her dismissal would’ve thwarted our plans. Still, my efforts came to nothing. She was promptly pitched out onto the street; her room was empty when I found it.”
The king clasped his hands behind his back, pivoting fully to face his grandson. He stared at Kamran a long time.
“And did not the perfect convenience of her dismissal strike you as unusual? Has it not occurred to you, then, that she likely orchestrated the scene herself? That she’d seen your face, suspected your aim, and designed the hour of her own exit, escaping all scrutiny in the process?”
Kamran hesitated.
A shot of uncertainty disordered him a moment; he needed the single second necessary to review his memories, to consider and dismiss absolutely the premise of Alizeh’s duplicity, which, had Kamran been granted but an instant more, he would have gathered enough evidence to deny. Instead, his pause for reflection cost him his credibility.
“You disappoint me,” said the king. “How malleable of mind you have been made by such an obvious enemy. I canno longer pretend I’m not wholly disturbed. Tell me, is she very beautiful? And you—are you so easily brought to your knees?”
The prince’s hand tightened around the throat of his mace. “How quickly you slander my character, Your Highness. Did you imagine I’d quietly accept such defamation of my person—that I would not challenge accusations so steeped in the ridiculous, so deviated from truth that they could not possibly signify—”
“No, Kamran, no, I expected from the first that you would affect outrage, as you do now.”
“I cannot st—”
“Enough, child. Enough.” The king closed his eyes, gripped the brass railing of the drawbridge. “This world seeks in every moment to relinquish me, and I find I lack the time and resources necessary to punish you for your foolishness. It is good, at least, that you have such ready excuses. Your explanations are sturdy, the details are well considered.”
King Zaal opened his eyes, studied his grandson.
“I take comfort,” said the king quietly, “in knowing that you make the effort now to conceal your unworthy actions, for your lies indicate, at the very least, that you possess a necessary awareness of your failings. I can only pray that your better judgment rules victorious, in the end.”
“Your Majesty—”
“The Tulanian king will be attending the ball tonight, as you no doubt have heard.”
