His voice was so cold.
She shook her head. ‘I don’t know you anymore,’ she said, exasperated. She wanted to grab hold of his shoulders and shake him. ‘Dania needsyou.’
It was probably bad enough that Sonya had left them, but now Azam, too? Guilt crossed his face. She stepped away from him, unable to bear it any longer.
‘Please go,’ she said, turning away.
He hesitated for a moment.Fight, she prayed.Fight for me.
But the sound of him leaving broke her all over again.
Some minutes later, Sonya wiped her tears, straightening her back. She had things to do. There was breakfast to eat, then dance lessons to suffer, and then a ball to attend.
The suitors were arriving that day, and it was for the best. She had been wrong to run away, to want freedom.
A strategic match was far less painful than falling in love.
25
Following hours of preparation, Sonya stood in front of the mirror, looking like the perfect image of a princess. There had been an entire team of people to get her bathed and dressed and ready. Her hair was intricately braided and pinned back with golden pins that had pearls at the end, and perched on top of her head was a gold tiara, studded with jewels. She wore gold bangles on both wrists and a heavy gold set on her ears and neck.
The gown was gorgeous: a deep and vivid shade of bright blue with an open robe and petticoat. The dress had a fitted bodice and narrow sleeves with layered cuffs, along with hoops beneath the fabric to give her a half foot radius of cloth around her body. It was precisely what would be expected of a princess at a ball, but so unlike what Sonya would have chosen for herself.
She had thought Azam knew her, that he knew the very shape of her soul, that hesawher, but maybe she was wrong; maybe she had imagined it all. In such little time, he had changed, and that hurt as badly as his betrayal.
Sonya released a long sigh and straightened her back. She would go through with this.
At least with an arranged marriage, she knew what she was getting into, knew what to expect. It would keep her safe and protected. Life was safer without an all-consuming love.
Sonya walked out of her room, where her father was waiting for her in the hallway. He was dressed in all his regalia, with his huge crown on his head and a talwar at his side.
‘Are you ready, beta?’ Roshan asked, holding out a hand.
Sonya swallowed. ‘Yes, Baba.’ She took his hand, and together they walked down to the ballroom, where all the guests had already arrived. They waited by the closed doors and, inside, she heard the noise quiet down.
The doors opened, and Sonya entered with her father to the top of a staircase. Down below, the ballroom was filled with all of the aristocracy. Their faces blurred together, no one standing out. Sonya’s grip on her father’s hand tightened as they made their way down the stairs, everybody’s eyes on them.
At the base of the stairs, her brothers stood with each of their choices: Mustafa with the son of a marquess, Irfan with an earl, and Shahmir with the son of a duke. The king did not have a pick; he would be happy with whoever his sons had chosen, but if Sonya knew her father, she knew he’d likely be leaning towards Shahmir’s choice.
‘May I introduce you to my sister?’ Shahmir began, and each of her brothers presented their picks.
They were all well-dressed and well-groomed, handsome even,but Sonya almost immediately forgot their names, and which one was which.
This was harder than she had expected. Her heart was resisting, already belonging to another, but she needed to think of this as a friendship, a partnership. That would be a good basis for a marriage. She would be happy.
‘Thank you all for your attendance as we embark on this tourney for the princess to choose her groom!’ Roshan announced to the crowd. ‘Without further ado, let there be dancing!’
The music started up again, and couples went to the dance floor, the ballroom filled with buzzing conversation as people discussed every detail of Sonya’s look, as well as the suitors. She caught snippets here and there as people cast their votes.
Before any of the suitors could ask her to dance, Sonya went to get herself a drink. People moved out of the way as she went past, while others craned their necks to get a better glimpse at her. Her skin felt hot. She had been to balls like this before; she should have been used to such attention.
Making it to the drinks table on the side of the ballroom, Sonya grabbed a flute of bubbly liquid and took a long sip. The fizzy orange juice tickled as it went down, and was too sweet, but the sugar helped calm her nerves. A moment later, Mustafa came up beside her, getting a flute for himself.
‘You know we have help to bring you a drink if you’re thirsty,’ he said, nudging her playfully. She gave him a tight smile in response.
Mustafa frowned. ‘Are you alright?’ he asked more seriously.
She was about to respond when she glanced up and saw Azam, standing to the side beside a few guards. She jolted as if struck by lightning.
