Watching her address a desperate, devoted crowd of thousands – all ready and willing to die for her – had driven home this final blow.
He would always be the villain in her story.
Many months ago he’d made peace with the sacrifice his life was meant to be, for it was the only way he’d been able to fulfill the tasks set before him. For Cyrus, hoping for anything more than death was a treacherous game, one that would end only in tragedy. He had no choice but to relegate his impossible dreams to the dusty bins of childhood.
Besides, the devil was waiting.
With that final, bitter thought – he vanished.
FOUR
MELT THE ICE IN SALT
BRAID THE THRONES AT SEA
IN THIS WOVEN KINGDOM
CLAY AND FIRE SHALL BE
Over and over these words rang through Kamran’s mind. He was thinking of the mysterious book he’d discovered in Alizeh’s carpetbag, its cryptic inscription having since seared into his memory. It was the last two lines that plagued him.
Woven kingdoms, clay and fire –
Despite everything, Hazan had managed to plant the seed of a dangerous idea in his head: that Alizeh might yet be destined to marry him. Kamran was wracked by indecision as regarded Alizeh, for there was so much he still didn’t understand, his heart and mind hopelessly knotted by the betrayals she’d left for him to untangle. And yet – his memories of her remained so ardent he struggled to think rationally where she was concerned. In defiance of his doubts, the thought of having her as his queen was so tempting he couldn’t help but indulge the fantasy. He’d never met another young woman to equal her,not in beauty or composure, in elegance or intelligence. It hadn’t been entirely surprising to Kamran that the enchanting, unassuming snoda had turned out to be the long-lost heir to an ancient kingdom. There had always been something regal about her – a dignity in her bearing –
A snort of laughter interrupted his thoughts, and Kamran turned irritably toward the sound, his mood darkening as he watched Miss Huda fail to get ahold of herself. The young miss clapped a hand to her chest as she chortled, her mouth still half-full as she said, gasping, “Oh my goodness, I’m so tired I could die.”
It was impossible then not to compare the two women in his mind. Miss Huda was the antithesis of Alizeh, unpolished and unrestrained. One had been brought up to be queen, the other to be tolerated; and yet Alizeh had been raised in relative poverty, Miss Huda in an aristocratic home. The differences between them were vast, and though both young women had suffered negligence, only one had emerged with self-possession and grace. Kamran flinched as the sound of another snort pierced the quiet, his expression growing only more dour.
“Oh, I daresay Tulan is a horrid place,” she was saying. “I doubt anywhere in the world could measure up to the beauty of Ardunia –”
Something about the sound of her voice bothered him, burrowed under his skin. He gave his head a sharp shake, as if to dislodge her from his mind. He didn’t want to think on the many irritations of Miss Huda.
Instead, he sunk his hands into the soft, dense silk of Simorgh’s plumage, taking comfort in her nearness. The legendary bird had come to Kamran’s aid in deference to Zaal, who’d bequeathed his grandson a single, enchanted feather in his will. The plume was meant to summon the magical creature only in a moment of great and devouring need, and Kamran – having been nearly stripped of his crown by Zahhak, the defense minister, then locked in the tower dungeon by the Diviners – had been in dire straits indeed. Still, he didn’t know the parameters of the arrangement. Would Simorgh remain with him for some undetermined length of time? Or would she assist him with this single journey only, flying off again as soon as they touched ground?
Once again, his thoughts lurched back to uncertainty.
Kamran was supposed to use this journey to prove himself a worthy inheritor of his own throne – the Diviners had said as much – yet they’d given him no clear guidelines on how to accomplish the task. He wondered whether Zahhak had worked out where he’d gone; he wondered what the Diviners were doing and saying in his absence. Unless the priests and priestesses intended to stop the defense minister from crowning himself king, there was little time left before Zahhak took control of Ardunia.
“Actually, I’ve heard Tulan is quite beautiful,” came Deen’s quiet objection. “Several of my vendors are based in the southern empire, and they’ve never had anything but praise for –”
“Well, naturally,” said Miss Huda, cutting him off.“They’re probably terrified to speak a word against their own land, and who could blame them when they’re governed by such a beastly king –”
Kamran stiffened at that, his disparate shards of anger coming together in a single, focused blade of hatred.
In all the disorder of his mind, one thing was absolutely clear:
He would kill Cyrus.
Whereas Kamran filled with uncertain dread at the prospect of seeing Alizeh again, he experienced a refreshing flood of adrenaline at the thought of seeing the bastard southern king. High among the many horrors repeating on a loop in Kamran’s mind were the gruesome images of King Zaal’s death, for the scenes had branded forever upon his memories. Over and over he returned to the stomach-churning sound of the sword slicing through his grandfather’s heart. Kamran would never forget the shock, the horror, the ensuing chaos.
The murderer himself.
The Ardunian prince was on a mission now, above all else, to right the scales. He would exact retribution for his grandfather’s death or perish in the effort. The brutal king of Tulan would finally be delivered justice. Preferably hacked to pieces, his organs fed to vultures.
“Kamran.”
At the sound of his name, the prince nearly startled. He fought to calm his bloodthirsty heart as he turned to face his old minister.
