After some time, she couldn’t stay awake any longer, and hereyes drooped closed. Azam stopped reading, closing the book and setting it on her bedside table. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek.
‘Get some rest,’ he said.
As he turned to leave, she grasped his hand, stopping him. She opened her eyes as he glanced back, lips pressed together as if he was trying to stop himself from crying.
‘It can’t work?’ she whispered. She meant he and her, and he knew it immediately.
‘You’re a princess,’ he said, voice quiet. ‘I’m…nobody.’
And she suddenly understood why he had kept himself away from her—why he had deprived her of him.
But it wasn’t fair. Not one bit.
She had never made him feel that way. How could he say that?
She was too tired to argue. She closed her eyes, turning her cheek. When she managed to open her eyes again, he was gone.
Sonya was still sick two days later, and none of the royal doctors knew what to do with her. Nothing they did was working; she could hardly move.
Then, around noon, Shahmir came to see her, his eyes bright. ‘I’ve called in a friend to check on you,’ he said, brushing back her hair. ‘You’ll be right as rain in no time.’
‘Which friend?’ she asked. Of course, Shahmir had many friends from all over the kingdom.
‘An old friend from school,’ he replied. ‘We’re lucky he and his wife were in Castletown on business. They live all the way in Old Town.’
Sonya nodded, and Shahmir touched a hand to her cheek. ‘You’ll get better, I know you will,’ he said.
He left her. There was only a week until her wedding now, and she was meant to be making her choice, but she was sick, so nobody was pushing. They all just wanted her to get better.
A little while later, Sonya heard bickering outside of her room.
‘How do you know the prince again?’ a girl’s voice was asking. She had a provincial accent.
‘Didn’t I tell you?’ This was a man’s voice. His accent was posher. ‘We went to school together.’
The girl made an irritated sound, scoffing. ‘Of course you went to school with the crown prince. You’re utterly absurd.’
‘I don’t see what about that can be considered absurd, Bisma.’
‘Hush,’ she scolded, and then the doors opened and Elspeth brought a couple forward.
‘Mr. Xander and Mrs. Bisma Chapman, Your Royal Highness.’
Sonya looked up to see a girl with brown skin and dark hair. There was a rope of scented, white motia flowers around her long braid, and she wore an emerald-green dress. Beside her was a man with eyes the same shade of green as well as copper-colored hair, which added a few inches to his already tall height. He wore a gray outfit and took off his top hat as he and his wife bowed their heads.
‘Are you Shahmir’s friend?’ Sonya asked.
‘Yes, I’m Xander,’ he said, giving her a dazzling smile. ‘And this is my darling, dearest wife, Bisma. I brought her along because she is much smarter than I am, so she’s sure to find out what’s wrong with you, while I look dashingly handsome on the side.’
Bisma gave her husband a pointed look, pinching his side. He let out a squeal.
‘Ignore him,’ Bisma said. ‘He enjoys being ridiculous.’
Xander smiled. ‘Don’t worry,’ he told Sonya with a cheeky smile. ‘She enjoys it, too.’
‘Please!’ she hissed, exasperated. ‘At least pretend to be professional.’ But Sonya saw how her cheeks turned pink.
‘Hello, Your Royal Highness,’ Bisma said, taking a step forward. She had a strong but kind exterior, the way Sonya imagined an older sister would. ‘I am a garden-witch, like Xander. We studied together in Whitebridge and have our own apothecary shop there. Would you like to tell me what’s wrong?’
