Page 42 of A Filling of Fables and Firelight

She led him by the arm over to the divan and gently pulled him down next to her. “I think it’s safe to say we both made a lot of assumptions.”

He let out a long, shaky exhale as he stared at his feet. “Yeah.”

Neither said anything for a moment. He could feel her nervous energy through the hand that was still attached to his arm, and he took some comfort in the fact that she hadn’t pulled away completely.

“If it makes you feel better, I do regret not submitting my name.”

His eyes flew to her face. “What?”

“But as it is, I think it’s best if I leave as soon as the dresses for the ball are finished.”

Rana started to pull her hand away, and he grabbed it, holding it in place. “Why?” It was impossible to keep the panic from his voice.

I can’t lose her, too. I can’t.

“Because whatever was between us was all based on your part on the fact that you thought I was here for the contest. But I’m not, and you’re going to be choosing a wife.” Her voice cracked as she barked the words out with a slightly hysterical laugh. “And I tried to tell myself I could be fine with it, but there’s no way now I can just stand by and watch that and pretend⁠—”

Whatever she said next was muffled as Kamaran threw his arms around her shoulders and pulled her to him in a crushing hug. He pressed his forehead into her hair, breathing in the honey and lavender scent. “Please don’t leave me, Rana,” he whispered. “I’ll talk to the council of judges. I’ll plead, I’ll beg, I’ll get on my knees if I have to.”

She pulled away just far enough that he could see her face, and the warm affection shining in her eyes nearly did him in. “I don’t know that it will come to that. You are the Sultan, aren’t you?”

He gently brushed the hair out of her eyes. “Yes, and it’s a lot less convenient than you might think, especially when tradition is involved. But I will use every ounce of power I have to ensure that it’s you standing next to me at the end.” He hesitated, second-guessing himself. “That is…if that’s what you want?”

Rana nodded, sliding her arms around his chest and resting her chin against his sternum. “It is. It may not have been at first, but there’s no way I’m going to let you go now.”

Kamaran tightened his hold around her as he closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to her temple. He gave himself a few moments to hold her, then pulled away. He stood.

“Where are you going?”

He swiftly kissed her cheek. “I have work to do. Will you do me a favor?”

She nodded. “Anything.”

“Tell Jasper I need him.”

Chapter Twenty-One

RANA

The days before the ball passed in a blur of activity. Though Rana had spent the first few hours after Kamaran’s declaration feeling as if she were walking on air, as the week pressed on without more than a few passing meetings between her and her Sultan, the wonder and elation of the moment began to fade. His duties both as Sultan and host to the many guests who were arriving for both the ball and his subsequent wedding claimed most of Kamaran’s time, keeping him away from their nightly meetings. She worked late each night, sewing by firelight until the flames died into little more than embers, and his empty chair was a constant reminder of what the end of their story could be, should the council of judges insist on upholding tradition.

“He’s set aside the last dance for me, you know.” Yasmin preened in the mirror on the day of the ball as Rana made the final adjustments to her lilac gown. “He obviously wants me to be close by when the final announcement is made.”

Rana hummed in acknowledgement, fighting to keep her face neutral. She stepped back, looking over her work with a clinical, professional eye. The fit of the dress was perfect, highlighting Yasmin’s tall, statuesque figure and the cool undertones of her brown skin. With her silky hair swept back and her cosmetics perfectly applied, she was stunning—exactly the mental image Rana would have conjured had she been asked to picture a queen.

“I suppose we’ll find out tonight,” Aliyah said diplomatically, joining Yasmin in front of the mirror. She touched her elaborately braided hair, turning her head this way and that before facing her competitor. “You look beautiful. That color suits you.”

“And your dress is gorgeous,” Yasmin answered graciously, though the expression on her face as she gave Aliyah a quick once-over was one of a warrior sizing up his opponent. “It’s amazing how many flaws the right color and fit can hide.”

Rana nearly snorted at the back-handed compliment. Aliyah’s dress, a deep ruby red silk that flowed like water as she moved, was a simpler pattern than Yasmin’s but just as flattering.

“Are you going to be there, Rana?” Yasmin continued conversationally. “Do they even allow the servants to come? Or perhaps there’s a designated room for you all to gather where you can still hear the music?”

Aliyah shook her head. “Yasmin! Don’t be rude.” She turned to Rana with a polite smile. “It would be lovely to see you there.”

Rana returned her smile as she gathered her tools. “That’s kind of you to say. I did receive an invitation, but I haven’t decided if I’m going or not.”

I don’t know if I can stand the idea of watching Yasmin fawn all over Kamaran all night, but I also don’t like the idea of leaving him to fend for himself.