Hazan shook his head at the boy, hard.
“But I haven’t eaten since yesterday,” he whispered loudly. “And she said there’d be breakfast.”
“An interesting selection of companions you have,” said Sarra,subjecting Kamran to another uncomfortable inspection. “I imagine you’d only bring the finest entourage on such an… important journey. I expect they were the best Ardunia had to offer.”
The prince clenched his jaw. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at the members of this ridiculous ensemble. He’d been mad with grief – with fear – when he’d made the ill-formed decisions to allow them into his life, and he was paying dearly for the oversight.
“Quite,” he replied coldly.
“Do you really mean that, sire?” said Omid, his head lifting. “Because I’ve always thought that you –”
Kamran shot him an ominous look and the boy sat back, his mouth snapping shut. Hells, it was like corralling cows.
Sarra turned her gaze to Omid. “What is your name, dear?”
The child startled, upsetting his silverware again. “I’m Omid Shekarzadeh, ma’am. I’m from Fesht province.”
“Yes, so you said.”
He nodded.
“How old are you, Omid?”
“I’m twelve years old, ma’am.”
“And what is your business with the crown prince of Ardunia?”
Kamran visibly winced.
“Oh,” said Omid, puffing out his chest. “I’m the home minister, ma’am. It’s my job to keep the prince safe at all times.”
Sarra lit up as if struck by lightning, eyes gleaming with pleasure.She then projected the full force of this pleasure at Kamran, who, at that moment, wanted nothing more than to burst into flames.
“Indeed?” she said softly, eyes on the prince. “Twelve years old, far too many spoons, and your job is to keep His Highness safe. Of all the candidates the grand empire of Ardunia might’ve considered for such a position” – she turned again toward Omid – “the role was given to you. Goodness, you must be so proud.”
“Oh, I am.” He nodded eagerly. “Very proud, ma’am.”
Kamran pinched the bridge of his nose and very nearly groaned.
“This is what happens when you don’t listen to me,” Hazan muttered under his breath. “Idiot.”
The prince glared at him.
“And what isyourduty here?” Sarra turned her cloying smile on Deen, who seemed to shrink under her attention.
“I’m – I’m an apothecarist, Your Majesty.”
When she continued to stare, he grew nervous and began to ramble.
“I own and operate an apothecary in the royal square. In Setar. That is, in Ardunia. I learned the trade from my mother. Started when I was a boy. I come h-highly recommended. Excellent reviews. Customers are pleased.”
Sarra drew back,hmming as she considering this, and seemed to decide he was a sensible choice for a royal retinue.
“You,” she said to Huda. “What purpose do you serve?”
Huda blanched.
She looked around uncertainly, her brown eyes wide with fear,and for the first time, Kamran studied her in earnest. Her hideous yellow gown was travel-worn and dusty, streaks of dirt visible along the frilly sleeves and high ruff, which was presently choking her throat. She appeared to have no neck. She wore no jewels save a small, glittering stud of an earring, and only in one ear. Her hair was scraped back from her face in an unadorned knot that did her no favors, and, in fact, gave her head the unfortunate appearance of an egg. Kamran had never spent long considering Huda, for he’d never felt there was much to consider. He was not surprised, however, to find himself observing her now, for it was his practice to form a thorough assessment of his adversaries – and it was safe to say that this infuriating chit had recently made an enemy of him.
