“And there was a mob!” Mrs. Amina cried. “We might be set upon by bandits!”
Kamran dragged a hand down his face and cursed himself, his life, and this godforsaken troop of halfwits he’d never have known were it not for Alizeh, who’d so thoroughly transfixed him, and so completely possessed him, that he’d failed to notice she counted among her allies a murderous street child, a priggish apothecarist, an illegitimate miss, the demented king of Tulan, and possibly the devil himself.
Oh, he felt he was living through a surrealist nightmare.
Zahhak cleared his throat. “Sire, I know you are benevolent enough to understand the urgency of the situation. Perhaps you will not object to accompanying me now to more private quarters, for the Diviners have requested to meet with you at once. We cannot delay any further.”
Kamran felt his blood pressure spike.
He wasn’t meant to deal with this right now; he wasmeantto have carried the crates of supplies down to the dock; he was meant to have packed a satchel of essential goods for his journey. He was meant to have finished preparing for a swift escape—not be curtailed by a team of imbeciles, cornered by Zahhak, or reduced to ash by the Diviners.
“I’ve no doubt,” Kamran said firmly, “that you can appreciate how much I’ve had to do—as you put it, in the wake of all this tragedy—and as I’m currently quite preoccupied, I’d prefer to meet with the Diviners tomorrow”—he offered a terse nod to the trio of priests standing silently to the side—“when my mind is better rested.”
Zahhak’s expression darkened a shade. “I’m afraid I cannot put them off any longer, sire. We have a new quorum assembled now, and they’re ready to perform what they’ve deemed to be a critical ceremony—one that cannot, under any circumstances, wait another moment.”
Now Kamran glowered.
He’d known this betrayal was coming and still he struggled to restrain his anger. “A critical ceremony,” he repeated. “A critical ceremony for what purpose, pray?”
Once more, Zahhak’s eyes lingered on the glitteringstriations upon Kamran’s face. “Surely you will wish to do whatever is best for the empire,” he said, baring his teeth in a smile. “The Diviners only want to be certain. They bound this magic to your body at birth with a power that was designed never to be undone. There’s no precedent for such a marking to mutate in this way, or for a body to reject it. You cannot be surprised by their interest.”
Kamran became suddenly aware of a presence behind him, an impulse pricking, alerting him to danger.
He turned his head only halfway, spotting, out of the corner of his eye, the approach of the three Diviners—though how they managed to change positions so quickly, Kamran couldn’t imagine.
He turned his gaze to the ground, struggled to remain calm. “You intend to take me by force?”
“During these dark times,” Zahhak said silkily, “it is of the utmost importance that we pledge our allegiance only to the true sovereign of Ardunia. Else we cannot be certain to emerge victorious. Surely, you can understand this.”
Kamran heard someone gasp at that, and was reminded, as renewed anger tore through him, of his unwanted onlookers.
Very well.
If Zahhak was going to intentionally humiliate him in front of an audience, Kamran would return the favor in full.
“I understand,” the prince said darkly, “only that you’ve been eager to undermine me from the moment my father was murdered. You expected my grandfather to keel over shortly thereafter, didn’t you? He was over one hundred years old—his death must’ve seemed inevitable. But my grandfatherlived too long, didn’t he? Just long enough to give me time to ascend the throne at a suitable age.” Kamran watched the older man stiffen, and took a careful step forward.
“It must’ve been frustrating for you to see him live,” he went on. “For had both my father and my grandfather died in quick succession, I might’ve been crowned king as a mere child, which would’ve been a perfect storm of tragedies for a power-hungry man like yourself. I offer you my sympathies,” the prince said coldly. “It must’ve been a blow indeed, to have lost an opportunity to rule as regent.”
Zahhak’s nostrils flared, his anger surfacing only briefly before he regained control. Still, he spoke in an uncharacteristic rush when he said, “I’ve worked for this empire since before even your mother was born, sire, and to note the disparity between my sixty years and your eighteen would be to comment on the difference between a mountain and a grain of sand.”
He, too, took a step closer.
“That you lack the intelligence and experience necessary to rule Ardunia is a generous understatement. There is no sense in allowing a child to inherit the greatest empire in the world simply by order of birth, and I will not scruple to say that I resent the reward you were dealt for the mere effort of beingborn, a feat accomplished by millions of others who live and breathe today.
“Your grandfather, on the other hand, was a great man and a great king, and I was proud to serve under him. But he destroyed his entire legacy by appealing, in a moment of weakness, to the most detested creature alive. Nearly acentury he ruled our land, and now he will be remembered with only hatred and disgust.Yes.” Zahhak’s eyes glittered with menace. “Your grandfather lived too long. And I can only hope he hasn’t instilled the same terrible values in his grandson.”
Kamran felt his chest heave with fury.
“Our king is dead less than a day,” he said, his voice rising an octave, “and you dare to speak of him with such vitriol?”
Zahhak narrowed his eyes. “That you still hold him in such high regard is damning indeed,sire.”
“It is a comfort to me,” Kamran said quietly, “to know that I was always right to loathe you.”
“As it is a comfort to me,” the minister countered, “to know that you will soon be returned to your truest form. Bereft of a crown, you are little more than a spoiled child, unseasoned and ill-informed, and altogether undeserving of the throne.”
Unexpectedly, Kamran smiled.
