“Yes,” he said quietly.
“What does he mean—bit by bit and both are done?”
Cyrus only shook his head.
“Right,” Alizeh said, wringing her hands. “You can’t say.”
She searched the room then with a vague panic, as if it might offer her answers. Alizeh understood too well how awful it was to be trapped by the devil, and her intimate knowledge of such a situation inspired in her a begrudging commiseration. Cyrus’s actions were being choreographed by a master planner; he was but a useful puppet in a larger scheme. The difference was, Cyrus hadsummonedthe beast into his life, while Alizeh had only ever been a luckless victim. No doubt some weakness of the flesh had prompted Cyrus to bring these tortures upon himself; she could only imagine what he’d wanted in exchange.
His pains, she reminded herself, were not her problem.
His mess wasnothers to manage.
“I realize,” she said calmly, “that you’re in a terrible predicament. I think I can understand why you need me. And while I empathize—more than I’d like—with your situation, I cannot and will not wittingly become a pawn in the plans of the devil. He is the most abhorrent of living beings, and personally responsible for the ruination of my people—for the pain they continue to endure today. I’ve spent my entire life trying to outrun his abiding interest in me, and I don’t intend to stop now.
“And while, yes, you might need me,” she went on, “I feel it necessary to point out here that I require nothing from you. I derive no benefit from helping you; only harm.”
“What if”—he took a deep, measured breath—“what if I made it worth your while?”
“What? How?”
“My mother offered you a deal, which you accepted,” he said. “I’ll offer you a better one.”
She gaped at him. “You’re asking me to double-cross your mother? Heavens, but you’re a very strange family.”
“Marry me,” Cyrus said, a spark of heat in his eyes. “Become my queen just long enough to sate the devil’s demands. Once he’s satisfied, he’ll discharge me of a tremendous debt, and I’ll be that much closer to my freedom. When I’m finally free, I give you leave to kill me at your leisure and take Tulan for yourself.”
Alizeh stiffened, disbelief roaring through her, even as the nosta burned hot against her chest.
“You can’t be serious,” she breathed.
“My kingdom,” he said softly. “For your hand.”
Fifteen
“DO YOU KNOW WHAT ITmeans?” Kamran asked.
Hazan shook his head. He picked up the book with a reverence evident in his eyes, his hands, in the stillness of his features. Carefully he flipped through its blank pages, then studied the cover with his fingers, searching its skin for something—
“There,” he said softly, pressing down on something along the spine. “Just there.”
“What is it?”
“A faint embossing,” he said. “It’s a symbol. Quite old.”
Kamran took the book in his own hands, searching the spine. When he found the mark in question, he frowned. It was the outline of two triangles side by side and interlocked—a third triangle forming where they overlapped—with a single, wavy line underscoring it all. “What does it mean?”
“Arya.”
Kamran froze, then slowly lifted his head, meeting Hazan’s eyes. “Like the mountain range? In the north?”
Hazan nodded, his eyes inscrutable. “Have you ever been?”
“No.”
“It’s brutal up there. Blistering cold like you’ve never experienced and a snowfall that never ceases, reducing visibilitynear to nothing. It was the home of my ancestors,” Hazan said quietly. “It was where the Jinn built their first kingdom after the fall of Iblees. It’s been whispered among us that the Arya mountains hold a powerful magic accessible only by the true sovereign of the land—but most think it’s only an old story, for no one in documented history has ever found evidence of such a magic.”
“And you?” Kamran tensed as he studied his friend. “Do you think it’s an old story?”
