“You won’t”—she swallowed—“that is, we won’t— I mean, it’s understood, isn’t it, that in the off chance I agree to this arrangement, there won’t be any physical aspect to the relationship—”
“No,” he said sharply. “I won’t touch you.”
The nosta warmed.
Breathing a little easier, she said, “Very good. But there’s still one thing Imustknow. Before I can make any decision, you must tell me, once and for all—”
“Ah, here we are,” he said darkly. “I was wondering when you’d bring this up again. You want to know whether I’vekilled your melancholy king.”
“Why do you continue to press this point? He’s notmine.”
“I have a hard time believing that.”
“Truly, he isn’t,” she said, irritated. “It was— What transpired between us was so brief, and we never— That is, he did try to make me some promises, but it was never clear, really, and I did tell him that it couldn’t—that he and I—”
“Never mind.” Cyrus cut her off. “I don’t care to know the dizzying particulars of your relationship with the idiot heir of Ardunia.”
This made her angry. “What reason couldyoupossibly have to malignhim, when you’re the cretin who barged into his home and killed his grandfather?”
His eyebrows went high. “Don’t say you mourn the loss of the heinous King Zaal?”
“Oh, just answer the question, you infuriating fool—”
“Which question? About whether he’s dead, or why I hate him?”
“I don’t care if you hate him,” she said. “I only want to know whether he’s alive.”
“And will you cry,” Cyrus said quietly, “if I tell you he’s not?”
Alizeh felt the blood drain from her face at that, horror forcing her voice to a whisper. “Did you kill him?”
“No.”
At the flash of heat from the nosta, Alizeh nearly lost her footing. She closed her eyes and drew a deep, shuddering breath, involuntarily clasping a hand to her chest. Her eyes pricked with feeling and she fought it, not recognizinguntil just that moment how much tension she’d been holding in her body—nor how much hope she’d held that Kamran might still be alive. Only then did she see how thoroughly she’d compartmentalized her feelings on the subject.
“I must say, I find your reaction shocking,” said Cyrus, who affected a look of surprise. “It’s hard to believe you truly cared for him when you were all the while going behind his back with his home minister.”
“Hazan is myfriend, you terrible halfwit!” she cried, and then looked sharply away, emotion threatening to disorder her. “Was my friend. Hazanwasmy friend.”
“I warn you,” said Cyrus. “If you weep, I might vomit.”
Alizeh managed a watery laugh even as her heart broke, as the nosta warmed, as her vanity was wounded. The reminder of Hazan—of his sacrifice for her—made her think of her own resolution to step out of the dark, to rise up and be more for all the others who’d maintained a silent faith in her.
After all, she’d been born for this.
She’d been raised from infancy to lead her people, to free them from the half-lives they’d been forced to live, to fight against the injustices they’d been served for so long.
She wondered then, in a moment of inspiration, what her parents would say—and when she heard a responding whisper in her heart, she felt closer to an answer.
She looked up, studying Cyrus with a renewed appreciation. “You will willingly die? Cede the throne?”
“Only,” he said sharply, “after the devil releases me from my arrangement.”
“And how long will that take?”
“I don’t know.”
Alizeh took a steadying breath, and considered him a moment. “Cyrus, there’s something I still don’t understand.”
