Blindly she grasped for his hand and pressed it between her palms, hardly able to see through her own tears to the mirrored emotion in his eyes. With great effort she swallowed, releasing him only to wipe at her face with trembling fingers. She fought to sit upright.
He moved at once to help, shifting her into a seated position. Her hood fell back as she lifted her head, and he stiffened at the reveal, his eyes widening as he looked her over. She felt an inexplicable tremor of alarm move through his body, but she struggled to connect to the feeling. Her mind was still so murky she could focus only on one thing at a time, and right now, she was having a hard time believing her eyes.
Hazan looked the same.
A bit fatigued around the edges but the same: hale, uninjured. His hazel eyes were more brown than green in this light, an unruly lock of his ash-blond hair slipping over his forehead, grazing the slope of his broken nose. Alizeh had never seen him from such close proximity, and she was struck by the reminder that he was almost entirely freckled – a feature that, were it not for the iron of his eyes, would’ve made him look rather young. Hazan was not traditionally handsome, and yet his features were singular, his gaze alive always with feeling, his air of self-assurance so potent it moved with him like a second shadow.
She lifted her hands to his face, taking his lightly scruffed cheeks into her palms. He startled at the contact, the sudden movement of his chest betraying his reaction better than his eyes, which remained steady as she studied him. She couldn’t explain her need to touch him, to know that he was real.
A single tear, the last of them, slid down her cheek.
“Hazan,” she said softly. “How are you here? I thought he’d killed you.”
In response, Hazan only shook his head, his eyes flaring with panic. “Your Majesty,” he whispered. “You are gravely injured.”
This statement surprised her.
Absently, Alizeh patted herself down as if to locate the source of this injury, first lifting a hand to her hair, which had hours ago come loose of its pins and adornments. The glossy bulk of her curls were trapped beneath the weight of her cloak,shorter sprigs springing free, dancing into her eyes. She frowned as she looked about herself, trying to ascertain where she was and how she’d arrived here, memories of the previous day and night coming back to her messily and out of order. Gently, she drew fingers along her face, wincing when she felt the welt of some fresh contusion along her cheekbone.
“Oh,” she gasped, fighting a grimace. “Do you mean this? I don’t know where –”
The words held in her throat, eyes widening in shock as she noticed, for the first time, the four looming figures planted just beyond Hazan’s head.
Alizeh didn’t know whether to recoil or rejoice.
Her mind had awakened enough, at least, to perceive that the scene was all wrong. Delighted as she was to see Miss Huda and Omid and Deen – all three of whom lifted hands in muted hellos – their presence here made no sense.
Finally she turned her gaze to the last of them, the most forbidding of the four standing just apart from the others. The crown prince of Ardunia was striking even in stillness, his gleaming sable hair and honeyed skin both novel and familiar to her.
Alizeh felt a quickening low in her stomach as she met his eyes, surprised to discover how much she’d forgotten about him in so short a time. He looked regal in the glow of a newborn sun, his expression inscrutable as he studied her, his mouth set in a grim line. She couldn’t be sure whether it was the fatigue of her mind, but Kamran’s face appeared different,one of his eyes glinting gold in the burgeoning light, the other as dark as it ever was.
Heavens, but he was devastatingly handsome.
He made no movement, no effort to reach her. He only studied her quietly from afar, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword, the other curled around the strap at his chest, which connected to the quiver of arrows peeking out from behind his shoulder. It took Alizeh longer than usual to piece things together as she stared at him, but in labored seconds she gathered the threads of an explanation for his arrival – for the stoic, unflinching expression on his face – and when she did, she felt suddenly wide awake.
Mere days had passed since King Zaal had been murdered at Cyrus’s hand – since the revered Diviners were slaughtered – and Kamran was no doubt dealing with chaos of extraordinary proportions back in Ardunia. He could have no business arriving, uninvited, at the Tulanian palace lest he was interested in one thing.
Revenge.
Alizeh drew a sharp breath, and Kamran’s eyes narrowed. It was as if they’d communicated everything in those two movements. She could see now that he was not exactly pleased to see her, and in her head she tore through the tumult of the last thirty-six hours to recall the specifics of their parting, remembering, with an ache, the blaze of betrayal she’d seen printed upon his face before she left.
And yet –
Surely all that was sorted? Kamran must’ve forgiven Hazan’s secret efforts to help her escape Ardunia – for why else would the two young men have reunited?Why else would Hazan still be alive?
Her mind spinning once more, she returned her eyes to Hazan, who was looking at her with something like compassion.
“Fear not, Your Highness. I’ll not allow you to come to harm.”
Alizeh drew back. “Come to harm?You mean the prince has come to harm me?”
“In truth,” Hazan said after a moment, “I don’t believe him capable.”
This was not reassurance.
Alizeh was unsettled anew, the revelation so confusing she struggled even to speak. “I don’t – I don’t understand – What reason could he –”
She was distracted by movement in the distance and lifted her head to discover Kamran coming toward them in swift strides, his face as impassive as ever. Alizeh shrank back reflexively at Kamran’s approach, tensing even as she devoured the sight of him.
