I burst into the palace. I left Kalyan with a fumbling apology and only a sentence of information, which resembled an excuse more than an explanation. Gods, how I wish he could be next to me opening this door, though. On the way over I cleaned myself up and threw on garments worthy of the Belwar name, but you can’t clean up shock like you can a bloodstain. It overwhelms my face. I might as well go in there with my red mask on with as much as my parents will be able to piece together.
But that doesn’t matter so much as what in Wickery am I going to say to Moolek? Or, more important, what he has to say to me?
As I enter the throne room three heads turn in my direction. My parents look worried and annoyed. The third is a bulky man doused in green-bejeweled garments. His skin is light brown, lighter than even some of the Moolek rajas’ I have met. He’s strikingly handsome. Built like a palace, with a tall straight spine, layers of muscle, and adorned with decorations. But his eyes—they’re watchful, predatory, the goose bumps up my arms yell. He’s almost exactly how I imagined. And I don’t think I’ve ever been so terrified.
A dark-green table has been crafted in the middle of the room, with chairs and a tablecloth that glows with the intricate designs of a Touch, overlapping swirls, branching crisscrossed lines, and pebbled dots. He has literally mapped out his blessing into the purple magic so we can witness it shine in the firelight that burns around us.
“I’m glad you were finally able to join us, Lady Adraa.” He constructs another chair and gestures for me to take it.
I bow, placing two fingers on my neck. Never before have I felt nauseated giving my respects. “It is a pleasure,” I say, the lie dripping with pretend sincerity. Then I sit, perched on my enemy’s magic, knowing at any moment he could break the spell. As if I hadn’t already felt like I was walking into a trap.
“Yes, a pleasure. You are as stunning as everyone says.” His eyes flip between my parents and me, and a smile I’m sure many would label as charming beams at the three of us in turn.
The retortI knowcomes to mind, as does Maharaja Naupure’s laugh way back then. But I am no longer eight and I don’t want this man knowing my true nature, the rebellious streak conjuring up questions and suspicion. “Thank you,” I say, my face surely blanketed in disdain.
“Now that we are all here, I’ll get straight to the point. I want to talk to you about an alliance.”
We all pause at this word as if Maharaja Moolek has said something disgusting. But, well…
“What kind of alliance?” my mother says slowly.
“I find the best alliances are those made of blood, through marriage.”
My heart thumps hard in my chest, as if it just woke up and must climb Mount Gandhak in one bound.
“I don’t understand, Maharaja Moolek. You don’t have a son, so I’m unsure what you are proposing.”
But I understand. I understandtoowell. I recoil, wanting to be wrong. The next words come, though, unstoppable.
“I’m talking about between Adraa and myself, of course.”
He bloody just said it. I lurch up from the chair and take a big step back, hoping that with it I can walk out of the room, rewind time, anything to retract the notion I would marry Maharaja Moolek, a forty-year-old manipulative creature of a wizard. The very man who might be fueling or funding firelight’s disappearance.
“But you are correct,” he continues as he, too, stands. “I donothave any sons….” He smiles at me, his teeth bearing the wordyeton his canines.
Blood!This cannot be happening. I glance at my father, trying to scream the wordduskwith only my eyes. My parents rise.
“Our daughter has been arranged to your nephew, Jatin Naupure, for many years,” my father says.
“And yet there has been no blood contract, not even a formal engagement meeting.”
“Maharaja Naupure has been away, as you well know, and Adraa is not yet eighteen.”
“Of course. Of course.” Maharaja Moolek’s eyes pierce me. “But I think we should give Adraa a choice in the matter, don’t you?”
This is what I got wrong when I was eight and forced to climb a mountain. My parents want to grant me freedom, to fight for it. It was never blood contracts, marry Jatin or else. It was marry well and Jatin Naupure seemed to be the best candidate. But now, my fatherwouldlet me choose with such good prospects in front of his daughter. Because how could I go wrong? Two powerful men are willing to marry me. I already know what my father will say too. So as he opens his mouth I can practically mouth the words. “We will let Adraa choose.”
Everyone’s eyes fall on me. Maharaja Moolek’s and my father’s words are a cage, entrapping me. Choice has never felt so malicious. I can’t breathe, let alone speak.
“Of course, you don’t need to answer tonight. I’ll give you time to think about it, Adraa. Let us get to know each other, shallwe?”
As I enter Azure Palace my thoughts keep snapping back to Adraa. She ran out so fast with her guard. And after that head injury…
I think I deserve to know what’s happening. But no. Something in Riya’s face told me I’m no longer to be trusted. She must know about us being Night and the Red Woman, but it doesn’t appear that she knows who I truly am. If she had I would have gotten more than Adraa’s worried look and the bland words:I have to get back to Belwar Palace.
I need to tell her because I can’t keep doing this. The lying, once a wall to protect myself, has become a barrier that distances us.
I shove open the office door with a sigh. A figure stands in the shadows, rustling through the desk. Vencrin. Without hesitation, I cast a knife and it slices forward. A blue shield bashes the purple magic away and the weapon thuds into a wooden cabinet. My arms flame in preparation, the makings of a spell ready on my lips. Then the intruder speaks.
