“What?” said Cyrus, straightening. “You didn’t mention –”
“That means he’ll have to come with us,” said Huda. “Right? If the blood oath makes it so he’s unable to be parted from her,he’ll be forced to come back to Ardunia with us, won’t he?”
“Yes,” Kamran said darkly.
“Your Majesty,” said Hazan, who was not yet convinced. “We can embark on a quest to the Arya mountains straightaway – you need not marry first. We can leave for Ardunia tomorrow –”
“No,” she said. “I must secure my crown before departing Tulan. I need to know who I am and where my home will be. I cannot leave my people without a show of faith; I need them to trust that I’ll return – that I’ll not abandon them.Thisis the way.”
Hazan stood before her, astonishment rendering him absolutely still, and Alizeh knew she’d won the fight when he responded only with an unsteady breath. Blindly Hazan retreated, sinking into the nearest chair.
“I understand,” he whispered. “I hate it, but I understand.”
“Excellent,” Cyrus said, the word charged with heat. “Are we finally done? Or are there more debates to be had? Please let me know now, so I might schedule time to lose the rest of my mind.”
“No,” said Alizeh gently. “We’re done.”
He looked at her then, finally looked at her for more than a fraction of a second, and she was surprised to find in his gaze something that looked a great deal like fear. Her heart broke at the sight, and she moved instinctively toward him when he suddenly pivoted, then walked away. She watched in silent confusion as Cyrus went to the door along the back wall, pushing it open to let in the night air.
Alizeh stiffened, then shivered.
“What are you doing?” asked Hazan, who’d risen to his feet. “Will you not be performing the ceremony here?”
“No,” Cyrus said, his voice low and dark. “I don’t want any blood near my books.”
And he stepped outside.
THIRTY
CYRUS STRODE INTO THE ENDLESSdark, fireflies hung in the air like ornaments all around him. Firm grass crunched under his boots, the skies heavy with the sound of crickets and the hush of distant waterfalls. He couldn’t name this storm inside his chest; there were no words to describe the tumult of feeling he struggled then to tame. He only knew that he felt feral and scorched and terrified, and every minute demanded more of a withering self-possession he fought desperately to maintain.
He hated these people. Hated that he had to show restraint before them, hated that he couldn’t simply kill the odious prince, whose every breath was an effrontery. Even then, even as he followed an old path to an old cottage to lay the foundation of his own pitiful end, he wanted to turn around and slit the idiot’s throat.
More than that, he wanted to fall to his knees.
This tremble inside him, this madness in his heart – it was all for her.All for her.He could hardly look at Alizeh without losing his mind; nearly four weeks he’d seen her only in his dreams, and he’d all but forgotten how finely wrought she was in real life, how delicate her features, how soft the curves of her cheeks. He came to life when she smiled, drew breath when her eyes brightened, died when she left a room.
She’d smelled like roses.
His roses.
And she would marry him, would become his wife in front of the world, and he would never have her. Never touch her. He would watch in silence as another man put his hands on her, the two of them counting the days until they could kill him.
He exhaled, shakily, the crisp air biting his skin.
It caused him physical pain to remember how little it had taken to unravel his restraint. She’d all but pressed a hand to his torso and, like a man unmoored, he’d wanted to rip her dress down the middle, sink to his knees and taste her. He wanted to feel her legs tremble around him, wanted to hear her cry out, wanted to watch her come apart – wanted things that would likely terrify her even to imagine.
A gust of wind pushed against his body, and he glanced up at the stars, his body still so dense with heat he could hardly feel the chill. Cyrus was out of his head, and she – She was a vision crafted by a generous maker. She was everything sweet, her every instinct to be kind. Even her anger was exquisite. Knowing he was to die by her hand made the reality almost bearable.
He heard hurried footfalls as someone approached him, the movements heavy enough to indicate a certain height and mass. Cyrus turned slightly to see that Hazan had come up on his left.
“How much longer will this take?” said the Jinn impatiently. “I was unaware we’d be required to tramp through a field in the freezing cold, otherwise I would’ve brought a coat.”
“I was unaware you were so easily fatigued,” said Cyrus. “I admit I’m disappointed. I thought you were more resilient than that.”
“Alizeh,” he said angrily, “is nearly blue with frost. Her gown is made of tissue. She is frozen enough in the general course of things without this added –”
Cyrus stopped, then turned to look at her. In his haste to exit the abhorrent conversation he’d been thoughtless; Alizeh was visibly struggling, her arms tight across her chest, fighting over and over an impulse to tremble as she moved. Kamran, he noticed, was hovering nearby looking chagrined, leaving Cyrus to wonder whether his offers of aid had been rejected.
