Kamran leaned forward, insisting: “It does not stand to reason. The king, too, was injured – had they gone to the Diviners, he might’ve received care for his own wounds. It makes more sense that he might’ve cursed her, binding her to the dragon before sending her off into the unknown, all so that we might never find her –”
“He’s not allowed to set foot in the temple,” said Sarra, her words dripping with condescension. “Cyrus is forbidden even from walking the grounds. Ever since he murdered my husband, the Diviners have refused him entrance.”
Kamran stiffened.
It was the casual way she stated the horrifying fact that cast a brief pall over the room, and it was the reminder they all needed: the truth of who King Cyrus really was, how blackened was his soul. Kamran couldn’t believe Alizeh would consider marrying such a criminal. If she was so desperate for a crown, why hadn’t she appealed to him instead? He’d all but offered for her – and she’d chosen to align herself with this animal?
Even now, even with his head and heart muddled beyond reason, Kamran experienced a painful thrill at the thought of appealing to her,convincing her to join forces withhim. In fact, the more he learned of her influence, the more he realized that an understanding between them would forestall his fears of upheaval in the Ardunian empire; if a Jinn queen and Clay king could join peacefully, perhaps the people, too, could live in harmony.
The idea took root inside him.
His interest in her would no longer be labeled impractical or emotional; marrying her would instead prove the perfect hedge against rebellion. He felt certain even his grandfather would’ve been convinced, for it wouldn’t be a match born of base desire but a considered alliance made for the good of the people.
Something like relief began to expand in his chest.
Perhapsthiswas what the Diviners had meant for him to accomplish; perhaps proving his worth as king was bound up in the search for his queen. Perhaps the magic in his body had altered because he was not meant to be the sole ruler of Ardunia.
He felt a purifying clarity then, a feeling of ease cleansing weeks of tension. Kamran had been lost and confused, confounded by grief, by the machinations of Zahhak, the demands of the Diviners.
Now he understood.
His presence here, in this godforsaken empire, became suddenly tolerable. He would find a way to stay. He needed to speak with Alizeh at the first opportunity and make his intentions clear. After all, he’d never made her any formal offer. Surely such a proposal would appeal to her now; surely she would see the advantages of such a union – and would be sensible enough to leave this hellscape by his side,toward a future where they could both have exactly what they wanted.
“But – he’s the king,” said Huda, breaking the silence and his reverie. “The Diviners are obligated to serve the rightful sovereign.” She looked around. “Aren’t they?”
“They do as they please.”
Kamran felt a chill pierce the room, his instincts awakening in a blaze of scorn for that voice. Thatface.
Softly, Omid screamed.
King Cyrus stood in front of the closed door, his wretched, haggard, and bloodied appearance doing nothing to diminish the blue blaze of his eyes. How he’d reanimated so quickly, Kamran couldn’t imagine; though he supposed it had something to do with the devil. Black magic likely ran through the beast’s veins. Perhaps he couldn’t be killed so long as he was allied with Iblees. Perhaps that was the bargain he’d made.
“Whatever you’re thinking,” said Cyrus quietly, “you’re wrong. Now leave my home before I rip you apart with my bare hands.”
SIXTEEN
“THAT’S NO WAY TO SPEAKto our guests,” said his mother, her composure unraveling. Her eyes darted back and forth between him and the foul prince, and she moved briskly to the side of the room, just out of reach.
As if he would hurt her.
No matter her many steely performances, it had always been clear to Cyrus that his mother was afraid of him. Afraid of her own son. When this knowledge wasn’t driving a stake through his heart, it made him want to put his head through a wall. He understood her reasons, of course, but understanding did little to diminish the pain. It was no easy feat for him to compartmentalize as he did, living every day with the knowledge that his mother wanted him dead.
“They’ve come for the wedding,” she was saying. “You must invite them to stay at least through the Wintrose Festival.”
“You celebrate Wintrose here, as well?” Deen perked up. “When I was a boy it was always my favorite time of the year.”
“They will not be staying,” Cyrus said thunderously. “There will be no festival –”
“When my parents were alive, we’d sleep outside in the rose drifts,” Omid added dreamily. “The petals piled three feet high.Smelled like heaven.”
“Oh, yes!” cried Huda. “My sisters and I would often travel to the rose fields in the third week of the festival – when the blooms are most fragrant – we’d pack a basket and steal away from Mother, and they’d actually be nice to me –”
“What is wrong with you people?” Cyrus said angrily. His chest was heaving. His hands were shaking. “Get.Out.”
“Forgive me,” came a solemn voice. “But I will be leaving these premises under two conditions only: with my queen or with your head, and not a moment sooner.”
This brazen pronouncement came from the young man adjacent to the prince, who’d risen to his feet only to pin Cyrus with a threatening glare. In response, the king narrowed his eyes.
