Cyrus lifted his head. “You would know what a liar looks like, wouldn’t you?”
“I’ve lived at the palace in Ardunia my whole life – I’ve worked in service of the crown since I was a child – and you – You don’t act like a king. You have no entourage, no valet, no menus prepared for your meals. You speak directly to your servants –”
“Enough,” Cyrus said curtly. “I don’t know what you hope to accomplish with these accusations.”
ButHazan had found his mark, and his eyes sharpened.
“Your people are loyal to you despite the brutal manner in which you took the throne. Your staff refuses to speak a bad word against you. You give your mother far too much control over your household, you pay your servants ten times the standard wage –”
“I saidenough–”
“You love her, don’t you?”
Cyrus was not quick enough to parry this and too stunned to sneer at the insinuation. Worse: he knew not how he appeared then, as if he’d been run through with a scimitar.
Hazan, to his credit, was dumbfounded. “It’s true, then?” he breathed. “You really do love her?”
Cyrus said nothing. He didn’t need to. The severity of his feeling for her could not be contained, and they both watched, in horror, as the nosta turned red in his hand. Cyrus closed his fist, but too late.
The silence between them grew thick and gnarled, but soon – somehow – lost its teeth. For the first time in weeks Hazan seemed to relax,as if this wretched confession had somehow offered him comfort.
“Is it possible?” he said, his anger abating. “Can you love her when you don’t even know her?” Hazan turned to face him, looked him directly in the eye. “Doyou know her?”
Cyrus could endure no more of this. He hauled himself upright, eager to vanish – and as he stood he saw the sprawling grounds, the heaving mass of people, and then, through a part in the clouds, a rising swarm of locusts. It made for a dizzying horror show, like a surreal confetti spattered across the sky.
Cyrus drew a sharp breath.
“What is it?” asked Hazan. “What’s happening?” He clambered to his feet, peering into the distance as the locusts slowly dispersed.
It had been a message, received.
“She’s awake,” Cyrus whispered.
TWENTY-TWO
“I DIDN’T MEAN YOU HADtospeakwith them,” said Huda, who was chasing Alizeh down the hall with discernible anxiety. “I only meant that they’llseeyou as you leave the grounds, and I just thought you might like to look your best –”
“Nearly four weeks,” Alizeh cried. “Almost a month they’ve been waiting for me, Huda, how could I possibly walk past them without a word? Imustspeak with them. Anything less would be cruel –”
“I – I, forgive me, but I don’t know if this is such a good idea –” said Deen, who, along with Omid, was hastening to keep up. “I don’t think Kamran would approve –”
Alizeh stopped, causing Huda to topple into her. She apologized before righting her friend, then turned to face the apothecarist.
“Why wouldn’t Cyrus approve?” she asked.
Alizeh should’ve been embarrassed that she was so eager for any opportunity to discuss Cyrus; even then she couldn’t understand her desire to hear someone say his name.
“I didn’t” – Deen blinked. “Forgive me, did I sayCyrus?I meant to say Kamran.”
“No, you’re right,” said Huda, even as she shot Alizeh a strange look. “You did say Kamran.”
“Oh.” Alizeh looked away, trying to hide her disappointment. She began walking again, the rustle of her skirts echoing in the stone hall. “I must’ve misheard you.”
“We’ve sent word to him, by the way,” said Deen, keeping up. “Last I heard he was preoccupied with some business, but he should be here shortly.”
“Who? The king?”
“No,Kamran,” said Huda, who sounded concerned. “Are you all right, dear?”
