Page 14 of A Filling of Fables and Firelight

“What?” Kamaran’s attention snapped back to her. “I’m not⁠—”

“Fatima or Yasmin?”

“Yasmin,” he sighed, giving up the illusion of self-possession and throwing himself into one of the low, cushioned seats and letting his arms and legs sprawl to the sides. “We had a brief courtship a few years ago and it seems to have made her very…bold.”

“How terribly awkward for you.”

“You don’t exactly sound sympathetic.”

“Good. I’m not.” Rana shrugged and returned to her sewing.

Kamaran leaned his head back, exhaustion pulling his eyes shut. “What have I done to earn your wrath?”

“It’s not wrath, Your Majesty, it’s just deserts.”

Indignation pulled him forward, and he propped his elbows on his knees. “How do you figure that?”

“You can’t flirt with every woman in your court and not expect them to think you’re interested.”

Her words, a sharp echo of Zamar’s earlier accusations, cut deep, but he hid the sting behind a roguish smile. “I don’t flirt with every woman. Just the pretty ones.”

She rolled her eyes. “See?”

His smile slowly melted. “I don’t, actually, but you certainly seem to. Are you implying that if the roles were reversed—if you, for instance, were a queen in need of a suitor—that any man whom you had previously shown an interest in before would have full permission to be as boldly suggestive as they wanted?”

Her needle stopped. “What? Of course not.”

“So your principle only applies to men? Or is it just me that’s special?”

Rana opened her mouth and closed it again, pressing her lips together into a thin line.

“Lady Yasmin and I were once an item, but she broke things off,” Kamaran continued, filling her silence. He threw himself back and crossed his arms. “She expected that, as the crown prince and heir, I would have both unfettered access to the royal treasury and the desire to shower her with expensive gifts. When it became clear that I had neither, she left me for the son of a wealthy silk merchant. Now that there’s both a throne and a crown to be won, she’s back.” He paused, breathing deeply through his nose before adding bitterly to himself, “I wonder what kind of broken promises that poor fellow is reeling from.”

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the low crackling of the fire. Kamaran’s spirits sank lower than the setting sun that cast its dying rays through the tall windows, and he had just made up his mind to leave when Rana finally spoke.

“I’m sorry.”

He exhaled slowly, releasing the nervous tension that had gathered in his shoulders. “Apology accepted.”

She looked up at him in surprise. “Just like that?”

“Did you expect I would hold it against you? I know I have a reputation for many things, but holding a grudge isn’t one of them.”

Rana hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose not.”

She picked up her needle again and stillness once more filled the room. Kamaran shifted uncomfortably in his seat as the minutes stretched on and Rana seemed perfectly content to ignore him. He cleared his throat, unable to bear the silence any longer.

She might not be on the interview schedule for this evening, but I suppose now is as good a time as any to get things started.

“So, Rana, are there any pastimes you enjoy?”

She started, as if she had truly forgotten he was in the room with her. “Pastimes?” She blinked. “I like to sew.”

He eyed the pile of fabric on her lap. “So I’ve seen. Anything else?”

“Needlework. I’ve also been known to knit on occasion, but it’s incredibly slow.”

“I’m sensing a theme here.”