#i will not shut the fuck up about this IF until the day i perish because its so good im so sorry for all fics imma write

[antidesire]

2:32 antidesire

bodyguard!leon x afab socialite!reader

disclaimer.. 18+ only. knifeplay, blood, licking.. blood mentions/paranoia of drugging but i promise no drugging happens. brat reader, p in v, creampie, dirty talk, fucking against a wall? in an alley? don’t pay too close attention to the lore i try and establish please hhh it’s so jumbled + i wrote this when it was super late and i haven’t double checked everything.. heh. cr to original owners of the pictures. reblogging, interacting and sending feedback is always much appreciated !! ♡

you had been to hell and back, seen the strongest of men turn into frail cowering children, knees buckled by utter fear as the flesh was torn from their bones by the rotting dead that kept walking.

raccoon city should've been your end of the line, dying alongside your prestigious family. onlookers of the media at the time treated it as a miracle but you saw it as it was, cruel, how do they expect one person to keep up appearances and high morals being the last standing of your perished family line? it was so tiring..

one man you had met those faithful 6 years ago had saved your life, leon s kennedy, just a rookie cop at the time- not only once had he saved your life but then a further time, putting his own life on the line with an agreement to become an agent and vouch that you and himself would stay silent about raccoon city upon taking this deal and if all else fails, he would be executed with you.

things had gone well for a good chunk of time, give or take about 4 years but word had gotten back to some more important people that you were quite the partygoer and quite the gossip when intoxicated, not a swell combination for your dangerous predicament and prying ears.

thus much to your surprise you had been assigned a bodyguard, one to help keep your mouth shut for the sake of the government and for the sake of your own safety, unbeknownst of the length powerful people would go to for even a slither of knowledge on what you saw that hellish night.

to leon kennedy, this was one of his easier jobs, babysitting some rich bigwig? pft, he'd take that any day over undead corpses or diseased cultists.

when he was informed it was you he felt all the waves of emotions hit him in the face, that night whirling through his head like a fresh wound, seeping behind his eyes to remind him of the horrors he'd seen.

suddenly it was all the more serious now, this was your life and his own on the line.

at first, you had been ecstatic to reunite with leon once again, barely recognizing him when you first opened the door, what was once his youthful puppy-dog-like features had become much less soft, his brows had furrowed, jaw much sharper and his eyes looked much more sunken, what you remembered him as, a once fresh-faced young man, cute and hopeful as ever he had become much more hardened, though he had seemed to lose that glow, it was unmistakenly leon, long eyelashes, plump lips and that faint dimple indented into his chin. leon now exuded confidence to the point of cockiness. he was handsome, oh so very handsome and his physique was so firm, you had to many a time drag your attention away from his arms, you never knew you had such a thing for bulky arms until leon was around.

with leon around you weren't afraid to admit you were having the time of your life pushing the limits.

life for you had been a whirlwind, to the public (though things had much cooled off) that knew of your family business and prestige, they had been told lies, that you weren't even in the city with your family that disastrous night which is how you survived.

your days were the same, with countless 0's in your bank account and fake friends to encourage you, you spent most of your nights under those same electronic lights, the bass of the music booming in your chest and burning alcohol slipping down your throat.

maybe you had been a little oversharing with some locals, you didn't recall, far too heavy on the bottle of champagne some man would attempt to win you over with.

tonight was no different, other than the bar you were visiting- leon had convinced you that if you wanted to be drinking it could not be so locally anymore- and this time leon kennedy was in tow, your handsome chaperon, or more accurately, your muzzle from here on out.

“shall we make this fun?” you proposed to the man, “make up a story, maybe you’re my long lost lover? my secret affair? or do you want me to pretend i hate your guts, are you into that?” you giggled, amused at your own antics, seemingly only making leon chuff out a chuckle, arms folded over his chest with a solemn expression.

“mmh, what sucked the fun out of little leon, huh?” you jabbed your finger against his chest.

leon’s head titled at that, eyebrow raised and an expression that insinuated you knew exactly what happened after that night and why he consequently carried himself as such, so professional, or dull, that's what you'd call it.

with the sickly sweet aroma of your perfume in the air and the glistening twinkles of your outfit invading every ounce of his senses, the two of you walked one by one into the bar, quite the opulent one, hefty diamanté chandeliers alongside mirrors upon mirrors framed with the most delicate gold casings.

"y'know you're getting paid to live lavish right now, leon?" you cooed out, heels of your shoes tapping against the marble flooring, hearing his boots following behind.

"it's an easier job as an agent but i'm not being paid to indulge like you do." he corrected you, voice hushed with the assumption and guard that prying ears could never be far.

"am i boring you already, handsome?" you twirled around, the agent halting in his tracks, craning his head down to meet your gaze, eyes as big as cherry pies, tempting and permissive.

"i was hoping we could celebrate this reunion, despite circumstances." your hands reached up, flattening down the collars of his crisp grey dress shirt, the black blazer on top fit so snug on him, arms as though they were bulging or maybe your brain was just getting ahead of itself.

"with your mouth we're dead men walking, what's there to celebrate?" he referenced why he was called out here for you, breath hot, fresh from that pack of gum he stuffed in the back of his pocket.

"then even more so, that's what i say." you patted your palms to his shoulders, feeling the plush material of the suit jacket, turning on your heel, and pushing past the lush double door entrance past the hallway and into the bar.

the live music was in full swing and the tabletop of the bar was well occupied, having to push your way past, your hand coming up to gesture over the bartender, "give me your most expensive, delicious cocktail.." you whipped your head around, eyes clearly looking leon up and down, "you look like a whiskey guy," you thought aloud, turning back, "and a whiskey."

leon didn't even attempt to stop you, it was futile and he knew you were just doing it for the fun of it, "so ya gonna sit there and stare down at me all night like a creep?" you sat on one of the chairs at the bar, you leaned in to whisper- though ultimately just as loud, "you're not being very agent-like."

"c'mon, i told you, we need a cover story, who knows how long you'll be stuck with me till i'm in the all clear." you pulled his arm in an attempt to move him closer, luckily he obliged, taking up a seat next to you.

"being in the clear is not being stubborn and quitting visiting these bars, drinking every night, and running your mouth." he mumbled, glancing around.

"nu-uh, you heard what they said, they've always been worried about certain people in the area being a threat to those with information on racco-" your words morphed into a yelp, a sharp sting arising in your leg, blinking at the two fingers pinching the flesh of your thigh.

"did you just-" your outrage was cut off once again by the bartender placing two drinks in front of the both of you, leon nodding towards the worker and wording out a thank you, his palm now engulfing your thigh and rubbing the irritated skin.

your lips parted to speak but no words came out, leon seemed to have noticed this, fingers clutching around your glass and gesturing for you to take a sip, and you did, sugary syrup mixed with a double shot of liquor sliding down your throat.

“i thought you were going to encourage me to not drink.” your eyes squinted slightly, tongue darting out to taste more of the cocktail staining your lips.

“one won’t hurt.” with that he tapped the glass of the whiskey on the table of the bar before swigging down the contents in one gulp.

you burst out into laughter, your hand encouragingly squeezing his own further up your thigh, amusement only cooling down so you could take another taste of your cocktail.

"you're funny." your voice was light and airy already, palm pushed against your cheek as you watched him, as though you had been drinking much more than the one, maybe it came off too strongly but you weren't embarrassed, nothing could embarrass you.

"lovers quarrel." he spoke aloud and your confusion was apparent, even more so as his fingers took a hold of your hand, switching a slim ring decorated with diamonds onto your ring finger, "we hate each other but can't quit it." he murmured and you caught on, a giggle hid behind your other hand.

"you bought me this nice expensive ring, you're handsome, so charming.. of course there's a catch, why couldn't i see it." you sighed dramatically earning a scoff from leon.

"and you're beautifully cruel, impulsive, and a relentless pleasure-seeker, i was dealt quite the deck of cards." he spoke as though it was matter of factly, quite the actor.

"mmh, why thank you." you fluttered your eyelashes, leaning in to squeeze the bulky muscle of his arm, nudging yourself against him.

leon was good, a natural at, well just that, being natural. he was on guard as he was with any assigned job, just less flashy than the others, no visible weapons and a demeanor that needed to be cool but nonetheless, he was alert.

alert but here he was, doing exactly as he said he wouldn’t, indulging, finding away around things to do so, so he could feel your fingertips press into his skin again, so he could smell your fragrance every time you leant in and so he could hear those giddy little laughs at something stupid he said in the name of a silly cover story for the both of you.

oh leon kennedy..

you felt tipsy already without even touching another cocktail, infatuated with the man beside you all too suddenly, your heart desiring for something much sweeter than anything that could be offered from the shelves behind the bar.

relentless pleasure-seeker, you’d sure live up to that.

but first, you had a whole night ahead of you. your feet were quick, feeling compelled towards the crowd of dancing bodies, joining them, amongst the couples and men with no personal space.

you were hypnotic, anyone could see that, your hips swayed, dipping just enough and hands roaming from your thighs upwards to your chest, drawing in attention everywhere you wanted it.

leon stayed where he first sat, leaning further into the bar so he could comfortably rest, watching you closely, as though you were a film, like he was there to capture you on video.

“isn’t that the raccoon city survivor?” leon heard hushed voices and he was smacked in the face with the reality of it all, a surge of genuine worry in his gut, “why is she on this side of town? you think that whole conspiracy is true?”

how had you been safe for this long? leon took a moment of his attention away from you and suddenly every other persons eyes that were on you felt threatening, call it what you will, paranoia, overdramatic- he was there for a reason, the raccoon city terrors were real, to you and him, the government wasn’t on either of your sides, he knew that for a fact, but the unknown was scarier, at least in this situation.

leon exhaled before standing up on his feet, hanging his head down and walking over to seemingly join you, “you come to dance?” your arms reached up and out but his hand grasped your arm tightly instead.

your eyes rolled, “you can skip to the part of the lovers quarrel where we have a little fun amidst the hatred and sexual tension.” you jested.

“we’re leaving.” his head nodded in a gesture towards the door, arm tugging you towards him but you weren’t having any of it.

“uhh, no, no we’re not?” you scoffed, digging your heels into the ground, scowling at the man, “i just got here and i’d like to remind you, i don’t have a curfew, you’re not actually babysitting!” you slapped his arm.

“shut your mouth!” he whispered out harshly, another tug of your arm and this one hurt.

“you fucking dick, let me go.” you punched at his arm with your other hand this time but no budge, “i swear to god, i will scream, kick, punch, i will cause the biggest scene to get you off of me then you can kiss your job goodbye- oh no, you can kiss your life goodbye, since this is currently your only purpose.” you spat out.

leon dropped your arm, his tongue poked against the inside of his cheek, clearly seething internally but the last thing he needed was to draw anymore attention to the both of you.

“outside. now.” his arms came up to cross folded against his chest.

you didn’t speak another word, pushing past the man, shoulders harshly bumping into his. reaching the bar, with a sulk in your demeanour getting the attention of the bartender once again and ordering another cocktail.

you tensed when leon’s arm wrapped snuggly around your waist, “i’m serious, this isn’t safe. i have other means of getting you out of here but i’d much rather keep things peaceful and conscious.” his arm squeezed your hip, threateningly.

you looked down at your drink and felt your stomach drop, pushing the glass away from your body, “oh, so you’re crazy, that’s the catch.” you referred to your earlier quip.

“how is it suddenly not safe? why did you even let me come.” you gritted through your teeth, glancing around the room.

“came to my senses. it’s that simple, i’m not trying to lose my life because of how reckless you are with yours, no thanks.” you laughed at that, nodding and he couldn’t tell whether it was out of agreement or something else.

“i think i’m worth it.” you turned to face him and the look on his face was of disbelief at your attitude, it only egged you on further to push his buttons.

“newsflash sweetheart, you aren’t going to be the death of me.” he muttered, and that same burning grip he had on you returned and you were being whisked from the bar, swiftly out of the doors and through the hallway, all too fast, feeling like you were lagging behind, as though your brain was still at the bar- shit, your throat was so dry, maybe he slipped something in the first drink.. but there was no way.

the cold air bit harshly at your bare skin, coming to your senses suddenly all too quickly, feet stomping on the floor in a tantrum, fists coming up to hit his chest, “what is wrong with you?!” you screeched and suddenly you were being dragged further into the street, harshly turning a corner into some backstreet alley.

“you’ll get over it, stop acting like a spoilt brat. i got tired of that as soon as i saw your face again.” leon pushed you back against the brick wall and you rubbed over your arm where he had been gripping.

“you’re so sad!” you spat out, pushing him further away from you, “sad and desperate, you think you’re such a big hero from that day don’t you? gonna ruin my life? make me miserable as some sick payback because you resent me?” you laughed, directly in his face, “you want me to repay you, that it?” you walk closer to him, in some way to gain leverage over him, but it was futile, pathetic honestly.

his push his hair back with his fingers, the normal lightness to it looked darker thanks to the shadows, expression unreadable as he let you go off on a tangent.

“back up.” he spoke out, almost inaudibly but he knew you heard him because you only inched closer, noticing your eyes dart down to his waist when you felt the prod of something against your skin.

before your arm could even reach out to grab the item under his clothing, he unsheathed it suddenly, brandishing a knife, black handle, indented with a line every inch or so, the blade was quite tall, sloped either side and an engraving stamped below the hilt.

you didn’t get to see much of it though, within a blink of an eye it was pressed to your throat along with the familiar feeling of the gritty bricks against your back.

“don’t do something stupid now..” he was calm, despite the manoeuvre he had you in.

your breathing hitched, hands clutching his grey coloured suit tie amidst the panic, he kept you there for what felt like minutes but was only a few seconds, relaxing only slightly but he never stuffed the knife back in its sheathe, it kept firmly gripped in his hand which was pressed in between your clavicle, as a warning.

in some sick and twisted way it was thrilling, you couldn’t shake that feeling and it felt disgustingly good.

you blinked a couple times, eyes darting out towards his arm, which somehow was on display, where he managed to find the time to roll up his sleeves was beyond you.

“eyes up here.” he tapped the blunt side of the knife to your chin, a all too cocky smile tugging at the corner of his mouth when you complied.

“see how easy it is to listen?” he sighed, dragging the cool metal across your jawline, tracing the outline of your ear and downwards to the top hem of your clothing.

you should’ve been terrified, but it felt different, unexplainable, you wanted him to keep going, you had never felt your head so empty and airy, it was euphoric.

maybe raccoon city screwed you up more than you thought..

you didn’t dwell much on it, attention undivided on the agent in front of you, his lips were moving but you couldn’t make out what he was saying, so dazed in the moment.

“should i keep going?” he repeated, tapping the tip of the knife to your chest and you nodded, squeezing the material of his tie, knocking his body closer towards you and you hissed out when the blade nipped your skin, a droplet of blood seeping into your clothes.

“shit-“ leon looked as though he panicked for a moment, but you weren’t about to let him, hands pushing up to cup his face and demand his full attention on what you wanted.

your lips meshed with his and for the first time of the night, leon kennedy was caught fully off guard. he relaxed after a few seconds, moulding his plush lips to yours and catching you in a sloppy shared kiss, your arms resting past his shoulders, one of your hands pushing his head further against yours to chase his mouth.

you only pulled away when you heard a rip of fabric, his nimble hands shredding it with the knife, a puddle of your clothes soon beneath your feet, delicate undergarments coming in to his view.

you didn’t get a second to regain composure as his mouth was once again on you, this time his tongue darted out, lapping up the droplet of blood from where the knife had broken your skin.

it was vile in the most sinful way possible, all the blood felt like it rushed straight to your throbbing cunt.

“i might actually go crazy if you tease me..” you voiced out, which caught him by surprise since you had been rather breathless.

“i can be nice.” he murmured out, voice muffled in between open mouthed kisses, knife cutting open your bra so his tongue could latch on to your nipple, his thumb toying with the other.

“mmh, you threaten me, make me bleed, and destroy all my clothes, but you can be nice?” you breathily giggled, distracted by the way the tip of his tongue- which had been previously licking up your blood, swirled and flicked against your nipple, sending pulses of electricity throughout your body.

“i’ll make it up to you.” he kissed back up from your chest, reaching your lips again to catch you in a kiss, you could taste the metallically tang from your blood and it only urged you further.

“fuck..” you gasped when he pulled away, looking between your bodies to watch the way he sliced off your panties next, wasting to time in running the pads of his fingers between your sloppy folds, “mmhn, didn’t i just tell you not to tease?” you mewled.

“you’re that worked up?” he chuckled out and your arm flew out to hit his chest, only earning another laugh.

“just fuck me already, i want your dick so badly.” you begged so pretty, you knew you did because his demeanour changed quickly, rough hands settling at your waist to manhandle you until you faced the wall.

“stay like that, arch your ba- mhm, like that.” he hummed, barely having to mention it and you were bending and obeying as though it was your only function.

leon had unbuttoned his blazer to relax a little better, though he lazily pushed his slacks down along with his underwear, far too eager to feel how heavenly you’d be on his cock.

he pumped his self a couple times, a firm hand pushing you back against him, helping him slowly push himself inside your pussy, “ouhh- fuck, that’s—“ he hissed out, halting his movements to revel in the way you were squeezing and fluttering around him relentlessly, “that’s so tight, m’ gonna fuck this little pussy open.” he grunted through his teeth, pushing against you until he was flush with you.

you were already finding it extremely hard to keep it together, mind so foggy with lust and the way he kept pushing and pushing for what felt like endlessly, he was so big, he pushed and prodded up against every delicious nerve inside of you and he hadn’t even started moving at a consistent pace yet, oh you were a goner.

a squeal left your lips when he pulled back only to push back much quicker and with force, your arms flying out until he grabbed one to pull behind your back, stabilising you and also getting more leverage on your movements.

“fuck, you’re so pretty, stuffed full of this cock, mmh, you like that?” he groaned out shamefully.

you didn’t answer though, far too preoccupied with how delicious he was stretching your walls, soon distracted by that familiar feeling of stinging cold metal to your throat, his other hand had come round to press it against your skin.

your eyes flew open and you felt him jerk you closer with his grip still on your other hand, “don’t fall now that would be real dangerous sweetheart, hold on, yeah?” he laughed out, it was evil, taunting but you were on another cloud of bliss.

“l-leon! ah mhhnmm!” you chanted out breathless incoherent moans and noises, feeling like a rag doll being constantly pulled against leon, you were so limp without his grip and the knife he pressed against your throat, you might’ve been in real trouble without him, ironically considering he was the one putting you between between him and the knife.

“i know, i know baby, feels s’good, don’t it?” he rasped out, bruises already forming on your wrists as he used you like his own little personal fucktoy.

“m’ really— oh, really close!” you squeaked, all too suddenly being dragged from your impending high, your back stabilising against the wall and you cried out.

“shh, shuuush.” he cooed at your displeased reaction, “i got you, i just wanna see that pretty face when you cum.” he paired his soothing voice with a firm kiss on your forehead, hiking your leg above his waist and slipping his cock inside your weeping pussy again.

the high bubbled so quickly in your tummy again all you could do was reach out for his arms, desperate to feel the metal to your skin again and he obliged, pushing it onto your neck once more as he pounding into you, wet sloppy sounds making it evident how close you were.

“you look so fucking cute like this, my knife against your throat, fucked stupid by my fat cock.” he grunted in between strained moans, clearly chasing his own high.

your vision went completely blurred as that burning hot coil in your tummy finally snapped, head knocked back against the wall as you sobbed out in pure pleasure, mantras of yes, yes, yes! and leon’s name falling from your lips.

“oh my fucking god, you’re so fucking sick, y’know that baby? yeah..” leon relaxed the knife from your throat, the blade dropping somewhere forgotten by your feet so he could push his head against your neck where the metal once occupied, licking and kisses the delicate skin, thrusts sloppy and inconsistent, broken and hoarse moans coaxed out with every further movement of his hips.

“fuck! fuck, a—ah!” his cock twitched and fluttered inside you as hot spurts of thick cum filled your walls, warming every inch of your body.

he pushed you further into the wall as he stood there, breathing in and out against your neck, slowly coming down from his high, the both of you dazed and pleasure-struck.

your head knocked against his and he seemed to come to, leaning back and blinking a couple of times before seemingly examining your body, “you hurt?” he breathed out.

“only my legs..” you laughed quietly, watching him gently set your leg down once he slipped out of you, grabbing your shredded clothing to wipe you off with.

“let’s get you somewhere warm.” he shrugged off his blazer jacket, pushing your arms through the holes and doing it up fully.

“leon, i feel okay, i’m good.” you assured him, stepping closer once again to return the same kiss he placed on your head, “that was crazy.. but fun.” you admitted, feeling the back of your neck burn from the realisation of what just happened.

“i shouldn’t of come on to you like that though.” he laughed nervously and you shook your head.

“i’m in one piece no?” you poked his chest, “i’m serious, i liked it- i like you, a lot.” you told the agent before shaking your head again, “you don’t have to say anything though, it’s not like that.” you didn’t exactly know what you meant because it was exactly as you said, having been smitten with the man all night, maybe you just didn’t want to deal with what you were insinuating, at least not tonight.

“take me home, somewhere warm.”

#leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon smut #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

[nunalastor]

I present unto thee this persistent thought:

(Looks like this has become an ask series)

(Also warning for Valentino mention)

Things Alastor does for to the others out of care to mess with them.

Whenever Angel returns especially bruised, Alastor proceeds to hijack and shut down all Vee technology in Pentagram City that whatever "project" Angel was part of that day played on. Of course, Angel's not too happy about the videos he was part of not being able to be aired. The upside, though, is that Valentino's started to treat him better because of Alastor's tomfoolery.

Alastor puts a hard limit on Husk's gambling. This annoys Husk, since he can't bet as much as he'd like, but at the same time he'll never be destitute so long as Alastor owns his soul.

Charlie's quick to oversimplify things or overcomplicate them. Alastor is always quick to point out the flaws in her logic. Helpful? Yes. Annoying as fuck with the delivery? Also yes.

For Vaggie, Alastor learned how to make her favorite foods. His cooking is just about the only thing she trusts about him. The food always comes out absolutely delicious, but Alastor makes sure to be incredibly condescending when serving her food and points out constantly that none of the others can ever get Vaggie's favorites right, despite numerous attempts.

Alastor has kept every single trinket and knickknack Niffty has gifted him. He just won't tell her where he keeps them.

Alastor has developed a "habit" of pilfering ducks from Lucifer's room and hiding them in random places around the Hotel. He always does this whenever Lucifer finds himself in another depressive spiral. This, of course, infuriates the King since Alastor always picks different ducks to steal and there is no rhyme or reason to where a duck will end up. The only upside to this is that when one of the others finds a duck, they return it to Lucifer and typically remark on the ducks being cute or well-crafted. It's only after Lucifer finds all of the stolen ducks that he realizes the rubber-duck chases pull him out of his depressive spiral. Then he forgets about the realization until the next time Alastor steals some ducks.

But of course, any positive outcomes of Alastor's antics are purely incidental. An Overlord? Caring for others? Perish the thought!

👀👀👀

#hazbin hotel #alastor #nunalastor asks #lucifer #niffty #vaggie #charlie #angel

[moxfirefly]

Rated Some What Spicy.

A little something that came to mind and I’m gifting it to @turtle-babe83

The feeling coiled within his stomach, deep and low to the point that he thought he was going to puke.

One can puke from excitement, right?

Because he was just about to prove it.

There was no anxious mission, no fighting about to start. He was simply existing within himself and probably training his green eyes at you. Watching carefully as you moved about the space. A section of his brain screamed at him to stop, to quit staring and shut his brain off.

But, fuck…

How could he? He hasn’t succeeded in doing so since the first day he had met you. The very second you had smiled up at him, something sweet and innocent that he wanted to eat.

He wanted to eat you.

Not in the full definition of the word, but the spirit of it. He wondered what sinking his teeth into sensitive gentle flesh would feel like. He wondered what the shape of his name would sound like exhaled from your throat. He wondered what the sweat that clung to your skin would mingle like with his seed sprayed against it.

Raph swallowed, audibly, but it proved useless to swallow the metaphorical knot stuck in his throat.

He picked up a piece of candy that April had flung towards Mikey’s direction not five minutes ago. Concentrated on the mundane task of unwrapping it and popping it into his mouth. The swirl of his tongue wrapped around t until the gooey centered spilled.

And yet all his brain could picture was your lips, his dick and that atrociously desperate need to see your swallow him whole.

His teeth broke the candy, loud enough that April cringed.

“You alright big guy?” She asked, avoiding another onslaught of Mikey hurling popcorn at her. They had been engaged in a hefty debate on what tonight’s movie marathon genre should be.

Raph hadn’t been mentally present for half of it. He had personally checked out when you had pushed your seat out and gotten up to get the food ready. The whole motion of movement had made your skirt floosh and the faintest reveal of thigh had been enough to send him into his own personal horny hell.

“M’fine, just getting a headache from Mikey defending The Matrix so much” He managed to move his eyes from you to cast a glare at his youngest brother.

“We can’t watch a Patrick Swayze marathon for the fifth time dude, we gotta expand our horizons” He was adamant that Mikey simply wanted to bust his balls.

“One doesn’t get tired of Point Break” Was his final statement before April offered up another trilogy as an option.

The five minute break had helped, the candy had fully melted in his mouth and by the time his eyes found you like autopilot, you had gone to the bathroom by the lack of your presence.

“Keep an eye on the food numbnuts, be right back, and no April we ain’t watching Jennifer’s Body, ya get a weird look in yer eye when that broad goes berserk on them dudes” Her huff made him smile but why were his legs lifting him up and delivering him towards the bathroom that surely was occupied?

Had he finally fucking lost his mind?

He silently prayed he’d trip and perish on his way but much to his dismay he was at the door just as you began to step out. The little jump was endearing, the wide look in your eyes quickly changing before the nervous laugh kicked in.

“Jesus I didn’t hear you” You commented with a giggle.

“My bad, ninja shit and all that” He felt his tongue was made of clay.

“Well naturally you’d be good at sneaking around, so what’s the finale decision for the marathon?” You asked, peaking a glance behind him as the debate for The Matrix had now been swapped for Rush Hour.

Raph swallowed, eyes taking in your small frame compared to his massive one. The concept of how you’d look beneath him punched him in the gut and exhilarated him all at once.

God he wanted to fucking eat you up.

“…Do ya wanna skip the movie?”

It was out of his mouth before he could shove it back down his esophagus.

“What? Like not watch them?” You weren’t taken aback, merely intrigued by his sudden change. But he could tell there was a little beneath your words an almost hopeful want.

It took a great deal for Raph to unglue his mouth, a rattle in his spirits as the adrenaline zig zagged inside of his veins.

“Kinda just wanna hang with ya…just us” He whispered it, a little nugget of information that found itself smacking your concern into a grin.

Why were you grinning?

Oh fuck!

“If you wanna be alone with me all you had to do was ask, is that it? Is that what you want Raphie?” His palms felt sweaty, he felt his stomach do a violent somersaults but your grin, your eyes casted upwards at him didn’t allow him to move. All he could muster was a nod, slow and meaningful enough to make your eyes shiny with curiosity.

Did you know? Could you read every shameful thought that’s ran through his brain all these years?

The aftertaste of the candy still clung to the inside of his cheeks, it mixed with the little saliva he had left from swallowing so much.

“Hey Mike, watch the food, something came up and Raph’s gotta take me home!” There was a muffled yeah yeah yeah from him and before Raph could look back your hand was in his.

Soft skin on his callouses.

“Well, let’s go” You smiled whilst leading him towards one of the exits in the Lair.

He allowed you to tug him, mind too wrapped up still on how your hand felt against his own. That impossible desire to pull back against him, to feel your further against him.

That need to consume you ran through his body like electricity.

What the fuck was he getting himself into?

#paimon writes #tmnt bayverse #tmnt raphael x reader #raphael x reader #raph x reader #raphael #tmnt raphael #gift fic #turtle-babe83

[tickles-in-ficland]

@alexiskk asketh and you shall receiveith

Care About Me

Summary: After a scare, Ellie realizes Joel does care about her, no matter how much he tries to deny it.

Pairing: Ler!Joel Lee!Ellie

Word Count: 1,613

Warnings: curse words, otherwise all fluff

It had been a long day. Joel and Ellie had been walking for what seemed like forever.

“Joel can we please park it somewhere for the rest of the day?” Ellie whined.

“No.” Joel said firmly as he glanced back at Ellie dragging her feet. “We need to keep moving. You want to deal with more Clickers? Cause I sure as fuck don’t.”

Ellie grumbled as they continued their journey. As night began to fall they were passing a long abandoned neighborhood. It reminded Joel of his friends Bill and Frank, and for a moment, he let himself be sad. He quickly shook off the feeling and kept walking.

“Joel!” Ellie whined again. “Joooooel!”

“Ellie!” Joel scolded. “SHUT UP. You want every infected to hear you? Now come on.”

Ellie looked around. “It’s getting dark anyway, and we’re gonna have to stop somewhere. Wouldn’t you rather sleep in a bed rather than the cold ground?”

Joe huffed. She had a point. They’d have to be stopping soon anyway. He turned to look at the young girl whom he was tasked to keep safe and sighed.

“Fine. But stay behind me until we know it’s safe. Got it?”

Ellie grinned, proud that she finally wore him down. “You got it boss.” she said with a mock salute.

Joel shook his head. “Brat.” he said trying to hide his smile.

With his weapon raised and Ellie trailing behind him, the two approached a house. It was worn down and obviously hadn’t been lived in for decades. Joel kicked down the door before raising his weapon once more. After a thorough search of the house and surrounding area, it was deemed safe and the two sighed in relief.

“Go search for some food. There may be non perishables somewhere.” Joel instructed.

Nodding and disappearing into the kitchen, Ellie came back with a few cans of food.

The meal between them was silent. Once done, Joel plopped himself on the couch and shut his eyes for a moment. This trip was exhausting and dragging a teenager along wasn’t easy.

Ellie announced she was going to go exploring through the rest of the house so Joel shut his eyes for a moment. When he heard a shrill scream come from down the hall, his eyes immediately widened as he grabbed his weapon and flew down the hallway slamming the bathroom door open with his foot.

“ELLIE!” he shouted frantically. “ELLIE!”

Turning his body slightly he saw

Ellie standing in the corner pointing to the ground. A bug. It was a bug.

Joel looked from the bug, to Ellie, back to the bug, and then to Ellie again. He thought this young girl was fearless. Of all the things they’d faced she was scared of a BUG. Joel forgot that underneath that hard exterior and the walls she had built, she was still a kid.

“God DAMNIT Ellie. You can’t scream like that. I thought an infected had gotten in here. It’s a fucking bug. It won’t hurt you.”

Joel said before picking up the creature and tossing it out of the open window.

“I-I’m sorry. It just came out of nowhere and sta-startled me. Sorry I scared you.”

“Whatever. Let’s just settle in for the night.” Joel said setting his weapon back down at his side as he lead the young girl back down the hallway. The house they were in had a few bedrooms but most of the furniture had been ravaged by nature. One bedroom for whatever reason, seemed to be relatively untouched. Two twin beds sat on one side of the wall, with kids toys strewn over the floor. A twang of heartache hit them both, realizing this belonged to a family. A family that was no longer here.

“Get some sleep kid. We have a long day tomorrow.” Joel instructed.

Wordlessly, Ellie nodded before climbing into one of the beds and curled up in the blankets. Laying there for awhile, unable to sleep she turned to Joel who, while had his eyes closed wasn’t fully asleep.

“Joel?” Ellie whispered in the dark, only their small travel lamp illuminating between them.

“Mm?” Joel mumbled.

Ellie bit back a smile. “You know how earlier you came running in when I screamed?”

With an eyebrow raise Joel turned to Ellie, opening his eyes to see the teenager smirking at him.

“And?” he asked.

“Aaaaand.” she said sitting up, now wearing a shit eating grin. “I think you care about me.”

Joel scoffed a laugh. “What?”

“You heard me. You care about me. Or else you wouldn’t have come running in worried.”

Joel shook his head in disagreement. “You’re cargo, kid. If I don’t get you to our destination, I don’t get what I need. Nothing more.”

Truth was, he was becoming attached to this little girl. She was a giant pain in his ass and drove him crazy but something in him felt a need to protect her, to love her in a way he hadn’t since…. well, since Sarah. He never thought he could open his heart again after losing his daughter but this little miscreant of a kid was worming his way into his heart. Damnit.

“Sure kid. Whatever helps you sleep. Now please…. SLEEP.” he grumbled rolling back over.

Hearing the creaking of the wood floor as Ellie climbed out of bed, Joel felt the bed dip at his feet where Ellie had sat.

“Admit it Joel.” she said with a stifled giggle.

“No.” Joel said firmly. “Now leave me alone.”

Ellie sighed, about to admit defeat when she noticed Joel’s foot peeking out from under the blanket. Rising from the bed, she ran her nail along the bottom of his foot. With a jolt, Joel quickly shoved his foot back under the blanket.

“No way.” Ellie laughed. “No fucking WAY! You’re ticklish aren’t you?”

“Ellie.” Joel said in a warning tone. “Do. not.”

“Oh but I gotta.” she said with an evil chuckle as she slid her hand under the blanket and racked her nails once again on Joel’s foot.

Barking out a laugh, Joel quickly jumped out of bed before tackling the teenager to the bed and pinning her arms down.

Taken by surprise, Ellie looked at him nervously. “What the hell man!” she yelled trying to squirm out of Joel’s grip, but he was much stronger than her.

“Joel let me GO!” she huffed in annoyance.

Joel chuckled. “Oh, now that the tables have turned, you suddenly don’t wanna play this game anymore?” he asked a mischievous smirk starting to tug on his lips.

“I wonder if miss tough teenager is ticklish.” Joel smirked as he began to wiggle his fingers towards her.

Ellie’s eyes widened as she squirmed harder. “Noho!” she said a giggle slipping out. “Ihim nohot!”

“Well how will we know if we don’t try it?” he asked rhetorically.

Before Ellie could open her mouth to protest, Joel had began to dig his fingers into the young girls sides, spidering up and down expertly as a dad would.

“JOHOHOEL!” Ellie squealed throwing her head back in a hard belly laugh. She’d never really been tickled before. Life in the QZ wasn’t exactly a magical childhood and so she missed out on a lot. Being born post pandemic, she never got a normal childhood.

Joel’s hands slid up her side as he began to dig into each rib methodically. Ellie’s melodic laughter ringing through the empty house.

“NAHAHAHA!” her back arched, a weak attempt to escape the ticklish agony.

Truthfully she wasn’t hating this. Even if neither would admit, Joel had become like a father figure to her. It was a relationship she was severely lacking. Slowly but surely she was breaking down his walls, as was he with her. And if that meant getting tickled to tears, and forgetting about the shit world they lived in for a few minutes, then so be it.

“Aw. Big tough teenager is ticklish. How sweet.” Joe chuckled as his fingers danced over her.

“FUHUHUCK YOUHUHU!” Ellie cackled, her feet drumming on the bed as tears began pouring down her face.

“Hohow many ribs dohoes Ellie have?” Joel teased, not letting up on his torture also secretly loving this moment where Ellie could just be a kid.

“AHALL OF THEHEM AHAHAHASSHOHOLE!”

“Hey. No need for name calling.” he chastised playfully. “Now hush while I count.”

Ellie squeezed her eyes shut shaking her head back and forth. “NOHOHOHO!” she shrieked in laughter hitting Joel’s shoulder.

“Ohohone. Twhoho.” Joel chuckled as Ellie threw her head back in a hard belly laugh.

“OHOHOKAHAY!” Ellie squealed. “IHIHI GIHIHIHIVE!”

His fingers relenting for a moment but still hovering over the teenager, Joel looked down at Ellie who was panting trying to catch her breath, a few residual giggles escaping.

Joe chuckled as he released the young girl whom he’d grown quite fond of.

“That’ll teach you. Punk.” he smiled ruffling her hair as she sat up giving him a dirty look but a smile threatened her whole facade.

“Asshole.” Ellie mumbled as she gave Joel a gentle shove. “I um- I guess we both needed that laugh.” Ellie sighed playing with her fingers as she looked down at the ground. “Thanks I guess.”

Ellie’s wall had gone back up around her which saddened Joel. But he understood why. It was a harsh and cruel world they were living in but someone her age shouldn’t have to deal with it.

“Anytime kid.” he said giving her a gentle, playful shove back. “Now go to sleep for real. We have a long trip ahead of us.”

Ellie smirked as she got back into her own bed, plotting her revenge.

#tlou tickle #ler!joel #lee!ellie #the last of us tickle #tickle fic #tickle fluff

[ghostclowning]

another day of zhushen agenda BUT it's ZZL being unreasonably hot when SQQ least expects him to. Like when he's talking to SQQ politely and calmly, then some demon tries to approach them and he gives them such a death glare that the poor thing perishes immediately regardless of its intentions. Then he turns back to SQQ and he's now absolutely normal. But SQQ isn't normal at all. He's never been hornier in his life. Gentle ZZL is cool but /srs ZZL???maybe even mad ZZL?? Fuck yes. Although perhaps he's feeling so safe thinking about such things only bc he knows for sure his husband won't ever intentionally hurt him. He really wants to hear ZZL call him a "bad boy" now though, whew.

And SQQ also likes to randomly touch ZZL muscles(if it doesn't distract him, of course...but sometimes even if it distracts him. After all, so far he never objected). Pure amazement. He wonders if ZZL could beat LQG if they had no swords(of course he wouldn't let these two fight, this sure would end up traumatic for both...but just for the sake of mental experiment? It's never wrong to imagine hot men in blood-). And he also thinks how he can do whatever with ZZL only bc ZZL chooses to allow him. Like "I braid his hair but he could easily braid my limbs! Sheesh!" But ZZL is just ready to tolerate any shit he does, even when he goes drinking with SQH(it never ends well)(ZZL gives him the /srs stare afterwards which SQQ a little bit enjoys ... secretly....).

[The truth is, he probably considers literally anything still better than standing lines for lewd fanfics]

Sometimes SQQ purposely tries to tease ZZL, but it often leads to an outcome he didn't expect, even if at first things go smoothly...He once tried to make his snake husband a little jealous, joke-flirting with soemone, but ZZL was just keeping silent, although he clearly was upset. Once they were left alone, he said he thought what he and master Shen had was just between them. SQQ was just heartbroken cuz his boy seemed so sad about it<3 He tries to reassure ZZL he was just fucking around but then ZZL pins him to the wall, grabs both his hands, immobilizing him with ease, his glance calm as ever but unusually stern.

"Master Shen has spoken enough today. But I see that I don't satisfy master Shen enough."

"Not at all, Xizhi-lang..."

"I have a name."

"...Ah? Sorry, Zhuzhi-lang...You really satisfy me! I was just being silly..."

"No need to pretend now. I understand," Zhuzhi-lang leans in and shuts him up with a kiss. Oh no. Practice shows that his 'understanding' of things is often different from normal... "If so, I'm afraid I have to fix my mistakes."

His firm tone makes SQQ feel things. God damn it, maybe he actually doesn't mind whatever is going to happen now. Although it wouldn't be so sweet if ZZL gave him a dose of blood parasites to control him. Yeah that would be less hot.

"I will make love to you all night. For every sound that you make, I will keep going."

SQQ had no idea how vocal he was in bed until now, and he cursed this trait of his now, because he also had no idea how long demons can go on. ZZL only let him go when he started literally begging for mercy. This really was enjoyable until SQQ got completely exhausted, and when he realized ZZL still stops when he asks properly, he thought that he certainly will do this again... sometime. When he's able to walk again, probably. Maybe.

SQQ also grew used to the snakes, even the demonic ones. When ZZL is not home, he talks to them instead. Keeps a little bowl of water for them even. Unexpectedly, him befriending the snakes actually helped to get them out of his bed... When ZZL saw how friendly he got with them, he gave him a strange look, but he hasn't found a single snake in his bed or in his clothes since. They still were everywhere else around the house, but, apparently, have learned that some things are not to be touched. They still touch master Shen himself though, but they, apparently, also were taught not to do so if master Shen minds...and this man once said he can't do anything about his snakes, huh?

And also SQQ collected a piece of snake skin ZZL shed. When ZZL found out, he was a little...repulsed. "Why would one collect something that came off their body? You don't collect fallen off hair..."

"But it's not hair! It's a piece of snake skin. It looked cool."

"...Should I start collecting master Shen's dead skin..."

"...uhm, alright, alright, you have a point. Please don't-"

"If master Shen likes such things, I could-"

"Please don't"

SQQ had no doubt ZZL could make all the snakes shed right in their house, and he clearly didn't need that. Did SQQ get rid of that one piece of snake skin though? Absolutely not.

#svsss #zhuzhi-lang #shen qingqiu #zhushen #i swear i dont know how did it turn unto a poorly written fic in the end i have no control over myself #delusional

[writertitan]

Impressions

pairing: levi x reader 

word count: 3.5k

themes: modern au, neighbor au, borderline grumpy neighbor levi, protective levi, some mentions of unhinged male behavior (getting followed), but mostly just a fluffy one-shot, talks of the holiday season

a/n: this was so fun to write, neighbor!levi lives rent free in my head and my heart so enjoy some general fluff!

based on this request

Moving day had been eventful, to say the least. By the time all your boxes were in your new home and you had set up the essentials, like your bed and couch and TV (of course), you were dead tired and staring at your phone screen that read a time of nearly 7pm. 

Normally, that would be nothing. You’d whip up a later dinner or snack, maybe pour yourself a glass of wine, and settle in for the evening. There were also plenty of nights you’d wander out to meet your friends and hang out until late. But, seeing as moving homes was one of the hardest tasks known to humankind, 7pm was feeling a little bit like 11pm tonight. 

It was just you now, living by yourself. The movers had left and your little helpers - grumpy friends and family that lovingly but begrudgingly had to help - had long since said their goodbyes as well. 

“Ah, fuck,” you cursed to yourself in your kitchen, staring down at an empty drawer with no cutlery in sight. You’d left that certain box in the backseat of your car. 

The only edible things in your pantry right now consisted of a box of instant noodles and some boxes of cereal, seeing as you’d let your usual list of groceries dwindle down to prepare for moving day so you wouldn’t need to pack a bunch of perishable food. You’d kind of been looking forward to a steamy styrofoam cup of noodles in your hands while you curled up and fell asleep to whatever rerun show you could put on, but now there was a whole entire problem of having to go out to your car, parked several stores down in your apartment complex’s underground garage, to grab a box of kitchen stuff that might be too heavy for your sore arms. 

“Maybe I can just order takeout again,” you mumbled to yourself, wondering aloud in your kitchen. A perk of living alone? Talking to yourself as much as you wanted. 

You’d ordered takeout as compensation for your friends and family who helped you move today, but that seemed a little crazy, to order in twice in one day. 

But…not if you ordered from somewhere different, right? 

It didn’t take much self-convincing. Was it cheaper and better in the long run to just go down and get that dumb box? Of course. Were you so tired and sore that you felt your brain was going to shut down and your limbs were going to fall off? Absolutely. 

The 40 minute delivery time was a little upsetting, but you said a quick prayer that you could stay awake long enough so you wouldn’t go to bed on an empty stomach. After placing an order at your favorite Japanese place, you practically collapsed on your couch and turned on the TV, whining at even just having to lift up the remote to turn it on. 

It didn’t take long until your eyes started drooping and you felt yourself nodding off, your head jerking back up so you could shake yourself awake and pretend to pay attention to the sitcom on the screen. You tried hard to fight off your exhaustion but it eventually took over and you felt yourself dozing off, forgetting all about your incoming delivery until there was a loud series of knocks on your door. 

It immediately startled you awake and you jolted up into a sitting position, your heart hammering in your chest. The delivery drivers were usually never so aggressive with their knocking but you brushed it off, stretching a little and taking your time to stand up. 

When the knocking happened again, you frowned to yourself. 

“I specifically asked for contactless delivery,” you began to grumble, rubbing your eyes a bit as you rushed to the door. 

Upon opening it, you were surprised to see a man on the other side wearing house slippers and plaid pajama pants, his white t-shirt snug over his torso. He was handsome and he was also the most fed-up looking man you’d ever met, and you hadn’t even really met him yet. 

“Are you my delivery guy?” you asked in tired confusion, blinking a few times as if this were a dream you were trying to wake up from. Were you dreaming? 

“I’m your neighbor,” he said curtly, and then pushed his arm out and held something towards you. It was then that you noticed he was holding a familiar looking plastic bag that smelled amazing. “I’m assuming this is yours? Has your apartment number on the receipt.” 

“Oh, thank you! Weird that they got the wrong apartment,” you said, a little more awake now at the prospect of meeting your first neighbor. You grabbed the bag and introduced yourself with what you hoped was a bright and happy smile, already launching into a little spiel. “I just moved here today, it’s a really great building. Hopefully misdelivered items aren’t a huge problem around here. And I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” 

“I didn’t say it,” your neighbor said, arms crossed over his chest. “It’s Levi.” 

“Levi…?” you prodded, hoping for a last name. 

“Just Levi,” he answered, and then turned, already on his way back to his apartment. His door was across from yours so the walk was short. Before he went inside, he called from over his shoulder, “Be more attentive in the future. I don’t like handling strangers’ food.” 

The door closed shut behind him after that. 

Stunned, your brain had to process what had happened for a moment before you could finally shut your door. He was…moody. 

You set down your food and walked to your bathroom to splash some cold water on your face, feeling a little more awake now, thankfully. When you looked at your reflection, blood immediately rushed to your face in embarrassment at the state of you. 

“Oh my god,” you whined, pouting. Moody or not, he’d been handsome, and you looked crazy with your frizzy hair that was all in disarray and your disheveled clothes. 

How embarrassing. You’d have to make a better impression next time you saw Levi. Maybe he was moody because he thought a literal psycho moved in. 

Sitting down with your dinner, you made a vow that next time you would wow him. 

--------------------------

You did not wow Levi the next time you actually spoke to one another. 

Mostly because you quite literally ran into him, too preoccupied with trying to lug in your big box of holiday decorations you’d stored at your parents’ house. 

The parking garage was eerily quiet, or rather, it had been, until you started your very real struggle with lifting the box overflowing with trinkets. It took forever to lock up your car without having to put the box down and, because the garage always freaked you out, you were in quite a hurry to get inside the building and in the elevator. 

What you hadn’t been anticipating was running into poor Levi, who had been getting his mail from his mailbox. He had been looking down at the pile in his hands, shuffling through envelopes, and you’d burst through the door and nearly knocked him over before he could even look up from his mail. 

The collision made you nearly drop your box and you panicked, teetering with it as it worked against your weight. 

“I’m so sorry!” you apologized from behind the box, peeking over it as best as you could. To your utter embarrassment, Levi’s unyielding grey eyes stared back at you, as unimpressed as ever. 

In the month or so you’d been living there, you’d barely crossed paths with him, only offering enthusiastic waves and cheery smiles and warm but quick greetings because he never seemed to want to stop and have a conversation. It was maddening for you, because of your vow to make yourself look good the next time you could actually speak. Even all your non-verbal efforts were barely acknowledged; if he did acknowledge you, it was in the form of a quick nod of the head or a half-assed wave that looked more like he was swatting a fly away. No smiles, no chitchat, always stoic. It kind of bugged you, but he wasn’t being outwardly rude, just…distant. But definitely not neighborly. 

“Isn’t it a little too early for all of that?” he asked, completely ignoring your apology. At least he didn’t seem mad, and you were glad to be making some type of idle conversation. 

Your face brightened and you shook your head, letting him press the button for the elevator. 

“Never too early to celebrate the holidays,” you answered. “It’s my favorite time of the year and I love how it makes things cozier. When do you typically start decorating?” 

“I don’t decorate,” he answered, his eyes on the closed elevator doors. 

Your smile faltered a little. Tough crowd. 

The elevator opened up for you and you stepped inside, Levi pressing the button to your floor. 

“You’re a walking hazard right now,” Levi piped up again, casting a very quick glance your way. It was odd, the way it had your heart beating a little faster. “You look like you’re about to fall over.” 

You didn’t know what to say to that. Your mood was beginning to sour because of Levi’s behavior and your mind was whirling. You were always being so nice to him and here he was, putting a damper on your holiday spirit and borderline taunting you for carrying a heavy box all by your-

“Give it here.” 

It was like your brain refused to accept what was going on. You were frozen as Levi scooped up the box of decorations out of your arms like it was nothing, just in time for the elevator doors to open up to your floor. He exited and you followed after in a daze, eyes wide and shock coloring your features until Levi was standing in front of your door. 

For the first time, his face contorted into an expression that wasn’t stoic. He raised a brow and shot you an impatient look, jaw flexing a little as he jerked his head to your door. 

“Are you gonna stand there or are you gonna open the door so I can put this heavy-ass box down?” 

Your face felt hot as you jumped into gear, a shaky hand grabbing your keys from your back pocket to unlock your front door; you weren’t sure how you would have managed this part without his help. 

Levi stepped inside but he looked hesitant to take more than a few steps in. He looked at you, mouth in a straight line before he asked, “Is it okay if I just set it down here?” 

“Yeah, of course, of course,” you rushed out, wringing your hands as he did so. “Thanks so much for helping me, I really appreciate it. You didn’t have to do that.” 

Levi’s face was back to that neutral expression and he offered a shrug, already making his exit. 

“You would have probably dropped the box and made a huge mess. I don’t like messes,” was all he said, then he was gone again. 

You closed the door after him, face still hot and heart still pumping faster than usual. Looking down at your decorations, you contemplated hard for a couple of minutes. 

“Maybe this would be a nice ‘thank you’ for the help,” you mumbled to yourself, always talking to yourself. 

You pulled out a wreath that you really liked but didn’t really use, hugging it to your chest as you left your apartment to walk across the hall and knock on Levi’s door. 

He answered pretty quickly and seemed a little surprised, but as always, his face didn’t give too much away. 

“What’s up?” he asked. 

You thrust out the wreath to him, biting your lip. 

“I know you said you don’t decorate, but I was hoping you’d take this as a thank you gift. You should have something to show for having to carry all those decorations,” you rambled, trying your best to seem as nonchalant as he always was, but you knew it looked very different on you. 

Levi stood still for a minute before eventually grabbing the wreath with one hand, examining it and not saying a word. 

And, because you couldn’t help it and it was making you nervous, you filled the silence. 

“I don’t have an extra hook for it or anything but I hope you find a nice place to hang it. And you can’t give it back!” you said, already rushing back to your apartment. It didn’t occur to you until the last second that he might try to refuse your gift, and you weren’t having that. 

You locked the door behind you as if he’d even try to make his way in, but you sighed loudly and slumped your shoulders as you leaned against your door, rubbing your very heated face with one hand. 

“Don’t tell me I have a crush on the neighbor,” you said out loud to no one. 

No. It wasn’t a crush. He was moody and weird. You were just grateful for his help - he could throw the damn wreath away if he wanted…even though it would hurt your feelings. 

You got to work on decorating, putting on some music while you did so, and tried to not think about Levi and his first neighborly act towards you. 

Later that night, when you were leaving to go for a late dinner with friends, your heart swelled at the sight of the wreath that hung neatly on Levi’s door. 

----------------------------------------------

You yawned as you neared your apartment building, shivering even in your bulky coat. It was nearing 2 in the morning and you were tired and cold, having spent your Saturday night going out dancing as a last minute “holiday party” amongst your friends before many of them flew out to be with their families. Everything had been close enough to walk to at the start of the night, even in your fancy holiday getup, and trying to order a ride home was ridiculously expensive right now. So, you walked home. 

A fresh dusting of snow on the sidewalk crunched under your shoes and you pulled your coat tighter around your maybe-not-so-winter-appropriate outfit. It was eerily quiet now that you were in a more residential area, with not a soul in sight, but your apartment was right in view and you’d be in the warmth of your home in less than five minutes, so you only needed to brave this quiet winter night for just a little bit longer. 

Gotta hurry inside, you thought to yourself, footsteps echoing throughout the empty street as you approached your building. 

Movement caught your eye and you slightly turned your head to see someone walking towards you, but you tried not to psych yourself out. You were so close to your door, and once you got in, they wouldn’t be able to follow you. And maybe they were just walking in your direction. Maybe they were a fellow tenant! No need to freak yourself out. 

“Hey,” the person called out. A man, with a gruff voice. “Stop for a second!” 

Okay, maybe there was a need to freak out. Chills ran down your spine and you swallowed thickly despite your throat going dry. 

You didn’t answer him, eyes looking straight ahead at the doors and wondering if you should start running towards them. You had your keys gripped tight in your hands, but you were so scared you were trembling. You had to account for extra time in opening the doors for yourself - would he make it to you by then? 

“I saw you at the bar and just wanted to talk,” he continued, and you shivered, but this time it wasn’t because of the cold. He’d been following you since then? You hadn’t noticed at all. You weren’t even tipsy because you wanted to be aware of your surroundings, but you’d definitely had a couple of drinks. That carefree attitude apparently had bled into your walk home. Not your fault, you had to remind yourself. He had clearly been trying not to make noise so you wouldn’t notice. He was sinister. 

You still didn’t answer him and kept walking, noticing a figure coming out of your building. To your immense relief, you saw that it was none other than Levi, bundled up and looking dapper. 

He locked eyes with you, and he even looked a little surprised, until he saw the panic in your eyes and the way you mouthed at him to help you. 

Instantly he was at your side and you whispered in his ear, “Someone followed me home.” 

He saw the hooded figure immediately and you watched as he gave the man the most menacing glare you had ever seen. It wasn’t even directed at you and you felt the way it instilled some type of new fear in you. But that fear went away when Levi’s arm wrapped protectively around your waist, tugging you closer to him and even a little behind him so he could be between you and the creepy guy who had followed you home. Suddenly, you felt safe. 

“Leave her the fuck alone,” Levi threatened the man, voice full of authority. “If you don’t, I promise you won’t be around to ring in the new year.” 

There wasn’t even an argument from the creep. He nearly sprinted away and was out of sight in just mere seconds, much to your relief. 

“Thank you, Levi,” you stuttered out, voice shaky and lips numb from the cold. And although it felt a little silly, you felt tears sting at your eyes. “I didn’t realize he was even following me. I don’t know how I didn’t notice -” 

“Hey,” Levi interrupted, his eyes scanning over your face. He looked genuinely concerned, and he still hadn’t let go of you. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything to invite that creepy behavior. Are you okay? I can run after him and kick his ass, just say the word.” 

“I’m okay,” you breathed out, feeling much better just in his presence. You gave a small smile, breathing out a sigh of relief. “Thank god you came out when you did, though. Are you leaving? It’s so late.” 

Then you felt bad, and added, “Sorry if I’m keeping you from something important, like a date or something.” 

It felt silly to feel hurt at the thought of Levi out on a date, but you had fully accepted your silly crush on him. 

Levi snorted a little and shook his head, his expression unreadable. “I’m not going on a date. I just got back from a work party and was going to get some horrible coffee from the corner store.” 

“Coffee? At 2 in the morning?” you asked, raising a brow. 

“I’m a bit of an insomniac,” he said, but you were surprised he’d offered up any information about himself. This was the most talkative and most expressive you’d seen him so far. 

Then, before you could think of something to say, Levi cleared his throat, clearly feeling awkward, and he seemed to finally notice he was still holding onto you. He pulled away slowly and rubbed the back of his neck, and you saw the way his ears were a bright pink that was slowly bleeding into his cheeks. Was he…nervous? 

“Do you want to come with me? Or I could walk you to your door so you’re not alone,” he said, his voice uncertain. “I just want to make sure you’re safe tonight.”

“I’d like to go,” you answered a little too quickly, once again in high spirits. “But I think I’ll be sticking to decaf.”

Much to your chagrin, you watched as Levi gave a little smile, short-lived but beautiful. 

“I’m not keeping you from a boyfriend or anything?” he asked. This time, you could clearly tell he was trying to be nonchalant but was genuinely interested in the answer. Your heart fluttered at the implications of that. 

“I don’t have a boyfriend. What gave you the impression I did? From all the hundreds of suitors at my door all the time?” you joked. You barely had visitors, and if you did, it was your parents or some girlfriends. 

“Well sometimes I hear you in your apartment when I’m coming home and out in the hall. Sounds like you’re arguing with some shithead boyfriend,” Levi scoffed, leading the way to the corner store that was always open. 

At his admission, your entire face heated up and it felt like you were experiencing a hot flash in the dead of winter. 

“I’m not talking to anyone,” you admitted. “Just to…myself. I live alone. I tend to yell at myself.” 

Levi snickered, another beautiful surprise and such a beautiful sound, and it left you speechless. 

You fought back a smile though, aiming to look a little miffed. 

“Am I really that loud?” 

“Yeah. Maybe it’s a good thing you’re getting decaf.” 

#levi x reader #Levi x You #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi x y/n #levi ackerman oneshot #Levi fanfiction #Levi fic #levi fluff #levi ackerman fic #levi ackerman fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #snk fanfiction

[yourartmatters-itswhatgotmehere]

This Woven Kingdom Series QUOTES

allTHIS WOVEN KINGDOM BEST QUOTES:

“Why?-Because I understand. Because I’ve been you.”

“Every day, Kamran prayed for rain.”

“He did not want to be king.”

“The beauty of Kamran’s life was often lost on him, but not always. There was some mercy in that.”

“Would you wait for poison to ravage your body, Kamran, before taking the antidote you hold all the while in your hand?”

“Tell me: do you think me incapable of suffering? Am I so unworthy of the experience?”

“She tried always to be merciful. They laughed in her face every time.”

“I am Hazan, Your Majesty. You may depend on me with your life.”

“Do not misunderstand me, I wish you no harm.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea what we’re doing. Though if you mean to take me captive, you need only ask. I would come willingly.”

“The moon is a great comfort to me.”

“I grow tired of being in my right mind. I much prefer this kind of madness.”

“This is where I live, Minister, here, between angry and irritable, lies my charming personality. It does not change. You may be grateful that I am consistent, at least, in being boorish.”

“Perhaps not for you. I think I wouldn’t mind running for my life. Or running away, generally.”

“My name is irrelevant.”

“A monster then?”-”Don’t say you’ve been speaking with my Mother?”

“Oh, if only she could get Hazan alone-if she could secure even a minute of his time-”

“Me? What do I want? I want a great deal too much, Your Highness. I’ve been bled dry for too long in repayment for my father’s sins and I’m tired of it, tired of being in debt to so cruel of a master. But then, you know what that’s like, don’t you?”

“You know who I am, but you don’t know what I am?”

“Pay attention, King, for it seems even your friends have betrayed you.”

“So that I may hate you more informally.”-”Ah. Well, in that case, you may call me Cyrus.”

“..”Well, then. You are coming to Tulan. To marry me.” Alizeh gave a sharp cry, and fell off the dragon.”

THESE INFINITE THREADS BEST QUOTES:

“The southern king rallied without delay, meeting Kamran blow for blow in a series of strikes so precisely choreographed even Kamran was not immune to the beauty of it. There was a rare pleasure in fighting a worthy adversary; in testing, without restraint, the potential of one’s power.”

“I am always suffering. The frost lives with me much like an unwanted limb; it does not diminish. I seldom dwell on it.”

“The sky, too, is soft. Yet all who fall into its arms will perish.”

“He felt he could either say nothing, or scream. The choice seemed clear.”

“We all thought he was dead until he screamed at us to go home.”

“Slowly, the prince lifted his ruined hand to his ruined face.”

“Grief, exhaustion, betrayal—he couldn’t decide which was the worst aggressor.”

“Is the fall not worth your freedom?”

“How long would she be forced to fight for her life? More important: Was her life really worth so much effort?”

“Was it possible, he wondered, to love and detest a parent simultaneously?”

“With all due offense, sire, please fuck off.”

“If you think I will tell you anything about her, you are quite deluded. Now either kill me or fuck off.”

“I remained here because I thought I deserved to die, for I thought I’d failed her. Now I’ve learned I must live, if only long enough to understand what’s happening.”

“What was uncomplicated happiness? She dearly wished to know.”

“Alizeh. Have you been a wicked girl?”

“Shut up, Hazan.”

“It really is a great comfort to me that you are not dead this morning, Hazan.”

“I hate you. I hate everything about you. Your eyes. Your lips. Your smile. I find your presence insufferable. But I’m not going to hurt you.”

“My kingdom, for your hand.”

“She’s not meant to lead the Jinn in an isolated empire—she’s meant to braid us all together. In this woven kingdom, clay and fire shall be.”

“You don’t actually know her, Hazan. You only know who you want her to be.”

“What on Earth could be worth both your life and your kingdom?”

“And you would judge me? For relishing an exit from this brutal consciousness we call life?”

“I lost my mind the moment I met her, Hazan, and you were there to witness my fall from reason, so don’t feign surprise now.”

“You are possessed of supernatural speed, strength, and invisibility, Hazan. I grant you full permission to use your powers for good.”

“Kamran had never known how muddy grief might be; it had never occurred to him that the death of a loved one might prove difficult to mourn, or that a heart might continue to beat long after it was broken.”

“What are you— Oh, for heaven’s sake, are you going to cry again? I’ll take you to see the blasted city, Alizeh, I’ll show you the bloody magic, you don’t have to cry about everything—”

““I’m thinking. Sometimes I get emotional when I’m thinking—”

“He was not yet ready for his entire life to change.”

“He felt at sea, drowning in doubt, and his frustration only intensified. “

“She would never again deny that he was beautiful.”

“He could adapt as the situation demanded. And he did not want to lose his crown.”

“Ice ran through her veins, yes, but it had never made her coldhearted.”

“Kamran, you idiot. What have you gotten yourself into now? Come along then, pet, thank you for telling me—“

“He would never be on her side, she was realizing. No matter his occasional moments of humanity, Cyrus was in bed with the devil.”

“Poor, tormented Cyrus. All this time, you’ve been trying to make it animate, haven’t you?”

“You used your own tears to wash the blood from my face?”

“Alizeh. Let me make you my queen.”

“And instead of being angry, instead of driving you away —instead of wishing we’d never met—I keep staring at that fucking cut on your neck, Alizeh, and I want to die.”

“Oh, no, this story I’m free to share. I just don’t want to.”

““After all this—after everything I’ve shared with you tonight—you would become my wife, in title only?”

“ “Obviously I came to save you, you idiot. I was fairly close to the castle—stockpiling weapons to crate for the journey—when my firefly found me. I’d left her at the palace to keep an eye on things in my absence, and she alerted me to your situation as soon as Zahhak showed up. I came as swiftly as I could.”-“I’m not asking about you. Of course you’re here—and I’m very glad about it, thank you for coming, really, I mean that—I’m asking about these three—” “

ALL THIS TWISTED GLORY BEST QUOTES:

“Watching her address a desperate, devoted crowd of thousands – all ready and willing to die for her – had driven home this final blow. He would always be the villain in her story.”

“Besides, the devil was waiting. With that final, bitter thought – he vanished.”

“Only the privileged few could afford to run away, to lock their doors and close their eyes to ugliness. The rest lived in homes without doors to lock, looked through eyes without lids to shut. They confronted the dark even as their hearts trembled, as their souls shook – for even strangled by fear, there was no choice but to endure. No one would be along to slay their demons”

“Fate, he thought bitterly, was only romantic when one was destined to be the hero.”

“It’s never been done. No man has ever wagered against the devil and won.”

“Heavens, but he was devastatingly handsome.”

“Oh, Kamran, How could you think that? How tortured you must’ve been to think that.”

“He was terrified she’d go and do something brutal, like smile at him.”

“Don’t worry, angel. You won’t have to.”

“Of the five who stood before him, it was Kamran whose gaze was impossible to ignore. Anger and hatred were so alive in the prince’s eyes they nearly forged a separate soul. It was the last thing he saw before he collapsed.”

“How can you not see the damage you’re doing? Your thirst for revenge has blinded you, Kamran.”

“She chose to protect him! She took an arrow in the back for the bastard who nearly killed me! Perhaps you can imagine why I’m struggling to feel sympathy.”

“And your blind faith is going to get you killed.”

“Come along, Omid. I’m beginning to realize that princes aren’t nearly as charming as I’d been led to believe.”

“For her. Without hesitation. Though you flatter yourself if you think you could best me in a fight. You’ve never truly known me, Kamran, and I’d hate for you to make my acquaintance only as you draw your final breath.”

“How can you stand there and monologue while your son lies bleeding on the ground? Your actions are so baffling as to confound the mind! Ma’am, the king is dying. I am asking you to call for help at once – before it is too late.”

“Dinner? When we’ve yet to endure breakfast?”

“Kamran watched this happen with no small amount of astonishment. Cyrus was taller and broader than even he was – the deadweight of such a man would be extraordinary. He knew Hazan possessed immense Jinn strength, but this was still a fairly new revelation, and Kamran marveled at the ease with which his old minister carried Cyrus now.”

“This is what happens when you don’t listen to me. Idiot.”

“She’s here for the queen. Miss Huda is lady-in-waiting to Her Majesty.”

“Don’t tell me you’re in love with her, too?”

“She spoke of me? When? What did she say?”

“Yet he claims he’s not in love with her.”

“Then you will be horribly disappointed. Such a marriage will not take place.”

“I bet you’ve never tried to kill someone, ma’am, and had them offer you bread.”

“I came here to kill your son. Little else animates my interest at the moment.”

“My queen has been in hiding for nearly two decades. She’s taken odd jobs since the untimely deaths of her parents, doing what she could to stay alive.”

“You hope to marry the young woman whose entire family was slaughtered by your grandfather?”

“This isn’t real, this isn’t real – wake up, you fucking idiot – wake up, wake up, WAKE UP –”

“He realized, with a shock, that he didn’t know Alizeh at all. He’d fallen for a mirage of a girl. A version of her that had never truly existed.”

“Hells, he’d been so naive.”

“Forgive me, but I will be leaving these premises under two conditions only: with my queen or with your head, and not a moment sooner.”

“Your thickheaded, self-righteous behavior has no place on the throne. If you do not learn to set yourself aside in the service of others, you will never deserve your crown.”

“The prince was reaching for his own weapon when Hazan shoved him, hard, against the wall. “Enough,” he shouted. “I’ve had enough of you two idiots!” Then, turning, he focused his wrath on Cyrus.”

“You didn’t tell me this. Why would you not tell me this?”-“I forgot. In all the chaos of that night – So much happened, I could hardly keep it all straight –”

“I disagree, In fact, I think it will do nicely for revenge. You will die, she will inherit your empire, and then – I shall marry her.”

“But life cannot be experienced one emotion at a time. It is a tapestry of sensation, a braided rope of feeling. We must allow for reflection even when we suffer. We must reach for compassion even when we triumph. If you spend your days waiting for your sorrows to end so that you might finally live, you will die an impatient man.”

“Perhaps later we can talk about all the discreet letters Prince Kamran has been writing and all the mysterious trips King Cyrus has been taking –”

“The boys have been awful. I quite hate them now. Not Deen and Omid, of course – but the others are always fighting and brooding and muttering and ridiculous.”

“Anyway, every time something terrible happened, I’d lock myself in my room and then lock myself in my closet and then lock myself in my head, where the stupidest of all my dreams lived, and I’d imagine that one day I’d meet the dashing prince and he’d be everything good and glorious and-well, I suppose I thought he’d be different. Kinder than everyone else. Good thing that’s sorted, isn’t it?”

“Anyway, Omid eats a lot, I spy a lot, Kamran skulks, Hazan broods, and Deen spends most of his days working with the palace alchemist.”

“You are no ordinary Jinn, are you?”

“I mean it must be hard to lie, all the time, about who you really are.”

“You would know what a liar looks like, wouldn’t you?”

“It’s true, then? You really do love her?”

“Is it possible? Can you love her when you don’t even know her? Do you know her?”

“Forgive me, did I say Cyrus? I meant to say Kamran.”

“No, you’re right. You did say Kamran.”

“It’s worse than that. They want you to die.”

“Let us hope for the day when we might all remove our masks, and live in the light without fear.”

“Forgive me, Your Majesty. I’m too angry right now to speak to you in the manner you deserve.”

“Heavens. For as long as she could remember, someone had been trying to kill her. She was, quite frankly, tired of it.”

“Hazan is mad at me. Hazan is never mad at me.”

“If only you had an empire.”

“I’m not uncomfortable, It’s only that I’m not used to being touched.”

“I’m going to say yes. To his proposal. I’m going to marry Cyrus.”

“It’s only that… I suspect our book has closed, Kamran.”

“Not at all, Your Highness. Nothing about you is funny. You’re a very serious prince. Everything you say is of the utmost seriousness.”

“Oh, your words have wounded me! I’m bleeding!”

“Can you really not understand? I wish to marry you. I want to marry you.”

“I didn’t think I’d need to provide a reason, if I’m being honest.”

“Yes, I imagined you would. I meant I’d like to marry you after that.”

“Make him perform a blood oath, become queen, take his kingdom, kill him when it’s done, and reign supreme.”

“You don’t want me. You want Tulan.”

“I want both.”

“Marry me. Marry me after we’ve buried him, and we might bring together two of the greatest empires on earth. Together we would be an indomitable force. We can work together to change the fate of Jinn all over the world.”

“Anyway, perhaps instead you might consent to wear something other than this black uniform –“

“Are you trying to punish me? Do you really think me capable of pretending our wedding day is the happiest day of my life?”

“How interesting that you should ask, Alizeh was just reminiscing about the time you nearly killed her.”

“You two, meet us in the library And try not to kill each other before you get there.”

“What a strange and fascinating surprise you’ve turned out to be. Lately everywhere I turn there seems to be some drama, and you, my dear, at the center of it.”

“Have you ever witnessed, firsthand, the consequences of a blood oath? Or have you only read about it in your precious books?”

“And she’ll have to kill him to put an end to it. I don’t see that as a bad thing, Hazan.”

“Precisely. If he is to die regardless, why shouldn’t she walk away with a prize? I’ve already advised her to take the offer –“

“At least I have something to offer her. Meanwhile you dare to promise her a kingdom you’ve yet to inherit. Empty promises from an ousted prince who might never be king.”

“What options, Hazan? What other options do I have? “

“I understand. I hate it, but I understand.”

“No. I don’t want any blood near my books.”

“I won’t survive it. It’s your job to make sure I don’t.”

“Ha. My father used to read me these stories.”

“But Kamran, these pictures are terrifying.”

“Infuriating? You think I’m infuriating? Meanwhile you’ve never so much as unplugged your aristocratic ears long enough to hear the opinions of others, much less the odious sound of your own voice –”

“A Diviner? Him?”

“though I did ask, then, if any of them knew why he wore black all the time, and the housekeeper said he’d once told her that he was in mourning.”

“He’s not the firstborn, actually. He’s the spare. It turns out he has an older brother – though, interestingly, it was the one subject everyone refused to discuss –“

THIS WOVEN KINGDOM(1) QUOTES:

“She dreamed of unleashing her mind, of freeing her hands to create without hesitation—but the roar of Alizeh’s imagination was quieted, always, by an unfortunate need for self-preservation.”

“MERAS

May Equality Reign Always Supreme

Equality, as it turned out, had meant Jinn were to lower themselves to the weakness of humans, denying at all times the inherent powers of their race, the speed and strength and elective evanescence born unto their bodies.”

“True, Alizeh had found stretches of work since her parents’ deaths, and often she’d been granted leave to sleep indoors, or in the hayloft; but never had she been given a space of her own. This was the first time in years she had privacy, a door she might close; and Alizeh had felt so thoroughly saturated with happiness she feared she might sink through the floor.”

“Get yourself a snoda as soon as possible. I never want to see your face again.”

“Alizeh had chosen this profession with great forethought, and clung every day to the anonymity her position provided, rarely removing her snoda even outside of her room; for though most people did not understand the strangeness they saw in her eyes, she feared that one day the wrong person might.”

“Even in silhouette she couldn’t see him, not properly, but then—it was not his face, but his voice, that had made the devil notorious.”

“Alizeh was losing her calm. Her mind screamed at her to look away from the conjured face, screamed that this was all madness—and yet.

Heat crept up her neck.

Alizeh was unaccustomed to staring too long at any face, and this one was violently handsome. He had noble features, all straight lines and hollows, easy arrogance at rest. He tilted his head as he took her in, unflinching as he studied her eyes. All his unwavering attention stoked a forgotten flame inside her, startling her tired mind.

And then, a hand.

His hand, conjured from a curl of darkness. He was looking straight into her eyes when he dragged a vanishing finger across her lips.

She screamed.”

“They knew best whence he came, because they were there when he was returned, when his body cracked against the earth and their world was left to rot in the wake of his arrogance.

Birds froze when his body fell out of the sky, their sharp beaks parted, broad wings pinned open in midair.”

“It was not God, but the occupants of the expanding universe that would soon forsake the Jinn; every celestial body had borne witness to the genesis of the devil, to a creature of darkness heretofore unknown, unnamed—and none wished to be seen as sympathetic to an enemy of the All-Powerful.”

“It was when the stars finally devoured themselves, one by one; when land sank and fissured underfoot; when maps of centuries past were suddenly rendered obsolete. It was when they could no longer find their way in the perpetual dark that the Jinn felt truly, irrevocably, lost.

They soon scattered.”

“What was time when there were no moons to mind the hour, no suns to define a year? Time was told only through birth, through the children who lived. That their souls were forged from fire was the first of two reasons any Jinn had survived the infinite winters, the second: that they required only water for nourishment.”

“It did not matter that Jinn were stronger than the Clay bodies—human beings, they called themselves—that now owned the earth and its skies. It did not matter that Jinn possessed more power and strength and speed. It did not matter how hot their souls burned. Dirt, they had learned, would smother a flame. Dirt would eventually bury them all.”

“With profound regret, Jinn surrendered the earth to its new kings—and prayed never to be found.

It was yet another prayer that went unanswered.”

“No. She would not return to bed. It was true she did not yet own a proper winter coat. Or hat. Or even gloves.”

“Her need for cleanliness grew parallel to her need for water. Fire was her soul, but water was her life; it was all she needed to survive. She drank it, bathed in it, required often to be near it.”

““Shora?” he said. Why? Alizeh almost smiled. “Bek mefem,” she said quietly. Because I understand. “Bek bidem.” Because I’ve been you.”

“She hated the cold, but the chill was bracing, at least, and the perpetual discomfort kept her awake better than any cup of tea had done.”

“She’d not forgotten; she’d simply set it aside. Worrying was its own occupation—for Alizeh, a third occupation. It was a job that required of her the free time she seldom possessed, so she often shelved her distress, leaving it to collect dust until she found a moment to spare.”

“In point of fact, Alizeh would recognize the work of most any atelier in the empire, which meant she often needed only a single look at a stranger to know how many people might pretend to mourn them at a funeral.”

“THE MOON SAT SO LARGE in the sky Kamran thought he might lift a finger to its skin, draw circles around its wounds. He stared at its veins and starbursts, white pockmarks like spider sacs. He studied it all as his mind worked, his eyes narrowing in the aftermath of an impossible illusion.

She’d fairly disappeared.

He’d not meant to stare, but how, also, was he meant to look away?”

“And what on earth had she said to the man to leave him weeping in the snow?”

“He had, he had, he thought he’d seen all manner of darkness. But Kamran had never before witnessed a child commit suicide. It was then that he saw the handkerchief.”

“Upon his father’s death Kamran had discovered that he could be propelled through life by a single emotion; carefully cultivated, it grew hot and vital inside his chest, like an experimental organ.

Anger.

It kept him alive better than his heart ever had.”

“He’d been gone from home for over a year; he’d forgotten how to have normal conversations. Long months he’d spent in the service of the empire, securing borders, leading skirmishes, dreaming of death.”

“Every day, Kamran prayed for rain.”

“The empire of Ardunia was not officially at war—not yet—but peace, too, Kamran had learned, was maintained at a bloody price.”

“The future seemed dim, and his role in it, bleak.”

““ “To host a ball.”-“Indeed.” Kamran’s jaw clenched. “I’m certain I would rather set myself on fire. If that is all?”

“ “It belonged to the servant girl whose neck was nearly slit by the Fesht boy. I think she might be Jinn.”-Now Hazan frowned. “I see.”-“I fear you do not.” “

“No, Kamran seldom heard his mother’s voice until it was too late.”

“It did not matter how many men he’d killed, his mother would forever treat him like a child.”

“Kamran had once thought there could never in all the world exist his mother’s equal, not in beauty or elegance, not in grace or intelligence. He’d not known then how critical it was to also possess a heart. “No,” he said. “I’m afraid I haven’t the slightest idea.” “

“ “Life is so unfair, is it not?” she said, her eyes shining with feeling.“Our dreams so easily shattered?”-A muscle jumped in Kamran’s jaw. “Indeed, Mother. Father’s death was a great tragedy.” She made a noncommittal noise.”

“It had always seemed to him a disturbing business, and never more so than the day his father’s head had been returned home without its body.

Kamran was eleven years old.

He was expected to show strength even then; only days later he was forced to attend a ceremony declaring him the direct heir to the throne. He was but a child, commanded to stand beside the mutilated remains of his father and show no pain, no fear—only fury. It was the day his grandfather gave him his first sword, the day his life changed forever. It was the day a boy was forced to leap, unformed, into the body of a man.

Kamran closed his eyes, felt the press of a cold blade against his cheek. “Lost in your head, darling?”

He looked at his mother, irritated not merely with her, but with himself.”

“ “I did not.” Kamra’s jaw tensed. “I do not. I most certainly would not.”-“Kamran.”-“Grandfather, I could not even see her face. You could not expect me to own such a lie.” “

“His grandfather was threatening to die—threatening to leave him here alone to wage a war, to defend their empire—and instead of equipping him for such a fate, was tasking him with marriage? No, he could not believe it.”

“It was a bleak thought for a young woman of eighteen, but she thought it nonetheless: that perhaps only in death might she find the freedom she so desperately sought, for she had long ago given up hope of finding solace in this world.”

“Sometimes Alizeh did not know her own strength.”

“Alizeh did not want to lose faith in this world; it was only that every pain she owned seemed to extract hope from her as payment.”

“One day, her father had said, this world will bow to you.”

“Alizeh’s face was—unfortunately—too easily remembered.”

“He did not want to be king.

He did not want his grandfather to die, did not want to marry a stranger, did not want to father a child, did not want to lead an empire. This was the secret he seldom shared even with himself—that he did not want this life.”

“He’d stared at her lips for longer than he cared to admit, for reasons that were not lost on him. Kamran had arrived at the frightening realization that this girl might be beautiful—a thought so unexpected it nearly distracted him from his purpose. When she suddenly bit her lip, he drew a breath, startling himself.”

“He’d been so determined the girl was a liar, had so eagerly anticipated the moment her ugliness would be uncovered. Instead, he’d made a discovery about himself.

He was the villain in this story, not she.”

“In a single day Kamran had made himself into a joke, and he wanted to sink into the earth. It was his single thought, repeating like a drumbeat in his head, when Hazan finally found him.”

“She heard the ire in his voice when he said, “They work you like this because of what you are. Because of what you can bear. A human body could not withstand so much, and they take advantage of you because they can. You must realize that.”

“The signs seemed clear enough now: the hooded man in the square; the boy who’d never turned up at her kitchen door; the devil whispering riddles in her heart.

That face had belonged to the prince.”

“ “Miss, I mean you no harm,” he called out to her. “But you must remove your snoda. For your safety.”

She froze at that, at the sound of his voice.

Kamran was heartened by this and dared to approach her, overcome not only by concern for the girl, but by an impassioned curiosity that grew only stronger by the moment. It occurred to him, as he dared to close the gap between their bodies, that the wrong move might spook her—might send her running blindly through the streets—so he moved with painstaking carefulness.”

“Her reluctance to open her eyes provided him the rare opportunity to study her at length, without fear of self-consciousness. All this time he’d been wondering about the girl and now here she was, in his arms, her face mere inches from his own and—devils above, he could not look away from her.”

“He didn’t want to scare her by shouting over the rain, so he bent low and said close to her ear: “I’ve got your packages, miss. You may be easy now.”

It was the surprise that did it. It was the sound of his voice so near her face, his warm breath against her skin.

Alizeh gasped.

Her eyes flew open, and Kamran froze.

It was only seconds that they studied each other, but it seemed to Kamran a century. Her eyes were the silver-blue of a winter moon, framed by wet lashes the color of pitch. He’d never seen anyone like her before, and he had the presence of mind to realize he might never again. Sudden movement caught his attention: a raindrop, landing on her cheek, traveling fast toward her mouth. Only then, with a shock, did he notice the bruise blooming along her jaw.

Kamran stared perhaps too long at the discolored mark, the faint impression of a hand it formed. He wondered then that he hadn’t recognized it right away, that he’d so easily dismissed it as an indiscriminate shadow. The longer he stared at it now the harder his heart moved in his chest, the faster heat flooded his veins. He experienced a sudden, alarming desire to commit murder.”

“He didn’t even know this girl’s name and somehow he’d been stricken by her, reduced to this, to stupidity. For the second time that night, she licked the rainwater from her lips, drawing his gaze to her mouth. Had any other young woman done such a thing in his presence, Kamran might’ve thought it a coquettish affectation. But this—

He’d read once that Jinn had a particular love of water. Perhaps she could not help licking the rain from her lips any more than he could help staring at her mouth.

“Who are you?” he whispered.

Her chin lifted at that, her lips parting in surprise. She studied him with wide, shining eyes, and appeared to be as confused by him as he was by her. Kamran took comfort in this, in the realization that they’d confounded each other equally.

“Will you not tell me your name?” he asked.

She shook her head, the movement slow, uncertain.”

“Kamran felt paralyzed. He could not explain it; his body seemed anchored to hers. He drew closer by micrometers, propelled to do so by a force he could not hope to understand. What mere minutes ago might’ve struck him as lunacy now seemed to him essential: to know what it might be like to hold her, to breathe in the scent of her skin, to press his lips to her neck. He was scarcely aware of himself when he touched her—light as air, faint as fading memory—a stroke of his fingers against her lips.

She vanished.”

“ “Sire, they say her blood has ice in it.”-Kamran went deathly still. His chest constricted painfully and he stood up too fast, stared into the darkness. “Ice,” he said.-“Yes, Your Highness.”-“You are certain.”-“Quite.”-“Who else knows about this?”-“Only the king, sire.”-Kamran took a sharp breath. “The king.” “

“ “A servant girl in a snoda? Lord knows we might never have found her out otherwise. You’ve most assuredly spared the empire the loss of countless lives, sire. King Zaal was deeply impressed with your instincts. I’m sure he will tell you as much when you see him.”-Kamran said nothing.”

“Hers was a simple tragedy: without work Alizeh would not be able to afford medicine; without medicine she might not be able to work. It tore her heart to pieces to think of it. No longer was she able to conquer her despair. She felt the familiar prick of tears, swallowed against the burn in her throat.

The cruelty of her life seemed suddenly unbearable.”

“She knew her thoughts to be infantile even as they arrived, but she lacked the strength to stop herself from wondering then, as she’d done on so many other nights, why it was that others had parents, a family, a safe home, and she did not. Why had she been born with this curse in her eyes? Why was she tortured and hated merely for the way her body had been forged? Why had her people been so tragically condemned alongside the devil?”

“In her weaker moments Alizeh longed to lash out, to allow her anger to shatter the cage of her self-control. She was stronger than any housekeeper who struck her; she was capable of greater force, greater strength and speed and resilience than any Clay body that oppressed her.

And yet.

Violence alone, she knew, would accomplish nothing. Anger without direction was only hot air, there and gone. She’d seen this happen over and over to her own people. Jinn had tried to flout the rules, to exercise their natural abilities despite the restrictions of Clay law, and they’d all suffered. Daily, dozens of Jinn bodies had been strung up in the square like bunting, more charred at the stake, still others beheaded, disemboweled.”

“Alizeh knew she could survive long hours of hard labor, knew she could persevere through any physical hardship. It was not the burden of her work or the pain in her hands that broke her—it was the loneliness. It was the friendlessness of her existence; the days on end she spent without the comfort that might be derived from a single sympathetic heart.

It was grief.”

“It was the second time in her life she’d survived a fire unscathed, and Alizeh had wondered then, as she often did, whether the ice that ran through her veins would ever truly matter.”

“No, what confounded her above all else was why the devil had shown her this young man’s face. Perhaps tonight she would finally know.”

“ “First they were blue,” he said softly. “Then brown. Silver. Ah. Now they’re brown again.” She stiffened. “Blue.”-“Stop, I beg you.”-He smiled. “I see now why you never remove your snoda.”-Alizeh lowered her eyes and said, “You cannot know that I never remove my snoda.”-“No,” he said, and she heard the humor in his voice. “I daresay you’re right.”-“I must bid you good night,” she said, and turned to go.-“Wait. Please.” “

“Enraged, the young prince had promised his grandfather right then that he would search all of Ardunia for this monster, that he would slay the beast and deliver its head to the king on a pike.

You need not worry, his grandfather had said, smiling. I will slay the beast myself.

Kamran closed his eyes and sighed.

He splashed water on his face, performing his morning ablutions with care. It seemed impossible that the terrifying monster of his childhood imaginings was in fact the stunning young woman he’d encountered last night.”

“Had his visit been successful Kamran might’ve betrayed his king, his empire. He would’ve been reduced to the most repellant variety of idiot, instead of the next king of Ardunia.

He’d gone to warn her.

He’d gone to tell her to run, to pack her bags and flee, to find a safe place to hide and remain there, possibly forever. And yet, when he saw her face, he realized that he could not simply ask her to run; no, she was an intelligent girl, she would have questions. If he told her to flee, she would want to know why. And what reason would she have to trust him?”

“The beauty of Kamran’s life was often lost on him, but not always.

There was some mercy in that.”

“ “Yes,” he said. “I know you’ve come to change my mind.”-Kamran stiffened. For a moment, he wasn’t sure to which problem the king was referring.“Yes, Your Majesty,” he said carefully. “Indeed, I’ve come to try.”-“Then I will be sorry to disappoint you. My position on the matter is resolute. The girl is a threat; such a threat must be removed immediately.” The impending ball was at once forgotten. Kamran only stared, for a moment, at the face of his grandfather: his clear brown eyes, his rosy skin, his shock of white hair, white beard, white eyelashes. This was a man he loved; one he dearly respected. Kamran had admired King Zaal his entire life, had seen him always as a paragon of justice and greatness. He wanted, with his entire soul, to agree with the king—to stand always beside this extraordinary man—but for the first time, Kamran struggled.-For the first time, he doubted. “Your Majesty,” Kamran said quietly. “The girl has committed no crime. She’s done nothing to threaten the empire.”-King Zaal laughed, his eyes widening in amusement. “Done nothing to threaten the empire? She is the sole surviving heir to an ancient kingdom—on our own land—and not a threat to our empire? She is the very definition.”-Kamran froze. “She—what?” “

““Your idealism,” King Zaal said sharply, “is romantic. Diplomatic. And unrealistic. Can you not see my motivation for the establishment of the Accords? The entire reason I so desperately sought the unification of the races was to get ahead of the prophecy, to suture together the two groups so the Jinn could not be so easily claimed by a new sovereign—”-“My apologies,” Kamran bit out angrily. “I thought you established the Accords to bring peace to our empire, to finally end the unnecessary bloodshed—”-“And that is precisely what I did,” King Zaal thundered, more than matching his grandson’s tone. “Your own eyes cannot deny it. You have seen since the day you were born that my every effort has been in the service of our people. With my very life I’ve tried always to prevent war. To circumvent tragedy. To protect our legacy. One day, Kamran, I’ve no doubt you will be a great king. Until then there is much you do not see, and a great deal more you must try to anticipate. Tell me: can you imagine such a revolt finding success?””

““You are young,” said his grandfather. “As such, you are well within your rights to be foolish. Indeed it is natural at your age to make mistakes, to fall for a pretty face and pay dearly for your folly. But this— Kamran, this would not be foolish. This would not be folly. This would be a travesty. No good can come of such an alliance. I gave you a direct command, bade you find a wife—”-A moment of madness prompted Kamran to say, “This girl has royal blood, does she not?” “

““You would consider risking the peace of millions,” his grandfather went on, “the unnecessary deaths of tens of thousands—to spare the life of one girl? Why? Why spare her when we already know who she will become? What she will go on to do? My dear child, these are the kinds of decisions you will be forced to make, over and over, until death strips your soul from this world. I hope I never led you to believe your task here would be easy.”-A length of silence stretched between them.-“Your Majesty,” the prince said finally. “I do not dare deny your

wisdom, and I do not mean to take lightly such a prophecy from our Diviners. I only argue that perhaps we wait to cut her down until she becomes the enemy once foretold.”-“Would you wait for poison to ravage your body, Kamran, before taking the antidote you hold all the while in your hand?”-Kamran studied the floor and said nothing.”

“Even so, Kamran felt he had to try. Just once more. “Could we not consider,” he said, “perhaps—keeping her somewhere? In hiding?”-King Zaal canted his head. “You mean to put her in prison?”-“Not— No, not prison, but— Perhaps we could encourage her to leave, live elsewhere—”-His grandfather’s face shuttered closed. “How can you not see? The girl cannot be free. While she is free, she can be found, she can be rallied, she can become a symbol of revolution. So long as I am king, I cannot allow it.” “

“Grief. The girl would be sentenced to death because of him, because he’d had the audacity to notice her, and the self-importance to announce what he’d seen.”

“Somehow, she would manage it. She’d keep her head down and work hard, and one day she’d be free of this place, these people.”

“And then, of course, she would require a kingdom. The idea struck her as so preposterous it nearly made her laugh, even as it broke her heart.”

“All those who knew of her had been killed, and Alizeh, who had no ally, no kingdom, no magic, and no resources, knew her life was best spent simply trying to survive.”

“There was a special relationship between Jinn and fireflies, for though they could not communicate directly, they understood each other in ways unique only to the two species. Fireflies were to Jinn what some animals were to Clay. Beloved companions. Loyal friends. Comrades in arms.”

“No, Kamran’s anger could not be contained.”

“What had his grandfather meant when he’d said he was surprised the girl was alive? Did that mean he’d tried to kill her before? Some years ago, he’d said. The girl couldn’t have been a day older than Kamran—of that, he felt certain—so what conclusion was he left to draw? That his grandfather had tried to murder a child? The prince sat up, dragged his hands down his face.”

“The prince could learn to accept his grandfather as imperfect; all else might be forgiven if he could only prove today the merit of the king’s argument—that the girl was indeed a threat. It

was with this in mind that the prince had consoled himself with a single plan of action: He would find evidence.”

“She did not seem to him in any way a criminal. He supposed he could find new ways to investigate her life, but his always-reliable instincts insisted there was no point. He’d known it even before he’d set off on his earlier task, but had been too deep in denial to face it: no matter the prophecy, the version of the girl who lived today did not deserve to die, and there was nothing he could do about it. In point of fact, it would be his fault.”

“The minster blinked slowly, his vacant eyes shining like glass beads. “I beg your pardon, Your Highness, bu—”-“Enough,” Kamran said again, angrily. “Enough of your blathering. Enough of your insufferable stupidity. I can no longer listen to another ridiculous word that comes out of your mouth—”-“Your Highness,” Hazan cried, jumping to his feet. He shot Kamran a look of death and dire warning, and Kamran, who was usually in far better control of his faculties, could not summon the presence of mind to care.”

“Hazan’s voice all but shook with fury as he spoke. “It has only just occurred to me, sire, that I require your immediate guidance on a matter of great importance. Might I convince you to meet me outside so that we might discuss this crucial business at once?”-At that, the fight left Kamran’s body. It was no fun to fight a horde of idiots when Hazan suffered an apoplectic fit as a result. He tilted his head at his old friend. “As you wish, Minister.” “

“ “Good God, Hazan, you should be shot.” The prince shook his head as he placed the teacup on a low table. “Pray tell me,” he said, turning to face his minister. “Tell me why—why am I considered the fool when I am in fact the sole voice of reason?”-“You are a fool, sire, because you act like a fool,” Hazan said impassively. “You know better than to insult your peers and subordinates in the pursuit of progress. Even if you make a good point, this is not how it’s done. Nor is this the time to court enemies in your own house.”-“Yes, but is there ever a time for that? Later, perhaps? Tomorrow? Would you make the appointment?”-Hazan threw back the last of his tea. “You are acting the part of a ridiculous, spoiled prince. I cannot countenance your recklessness.”-“Oh, leave me be.”-“How can I? I expect more from you, sire.”-“No doubt that was your first mistake.”-“You think I don’t know why you pick fights today? I do. You sulk because the king intends to host a ball in your honor, because he has bade you choose a wife from a bevy of beautiful, accomplished, intelligent women—and you would much rather take up with the one destined to kill him.” Hazan shook his head. “Oh, how you suffer.”-Kamran had reached for the teapot and froze now mid-movement.“Minister, do you mock me?”-“I’m only making the evident observation.” “

“Tell me: do you think me incapable of suffering? Am I so unworthy of the experience?”

““I have sentenced her to death, Hazan, and you know that is true. It’s why you were loath to tell me who she was that night. You knew even then what I had wrought.”--“Yes. That.” Hazan dragged a hand down his face. He looked tired suddenly. “And then I saw you with her, in the street that night. You miserable liar.”Kamran lifted his head slowly. He felt his pulse pick up. “Oh yes,” Hazan said quietly. “Or did you think me so incapable of finding you in a rainstorm? I am not blind, am I? Neither am I deaf, unfortunately.”--“How very accomplished you are,” Kamran said softly. “I admit I had no idea my minister aspired to the stage. I suspect you’ll be changing careers imminently.”--“I’m quite satisfied where I am, thank you.” Hazan shot a sharp look at the prince. “Though I think it is I who should be congratulating you, sire, on your fine performance that evening.””

“Finally, Hazan sighed. “I admit I could not see her face that night. Not the way you did. But I gather the girl is beautiful?”-“No,” said the prince.-Hazan made a strange sound, something like a laugh. “No? Are you quite certain?”-“There’s little point in discussing it. Though if you saw her, I think you would understand.”-“I think I understand enough. I must remind you, sire, that as your home minister, my job is to keep you safe. My chief occupation is ensuring the security of the throne. Everything I do is to keep you alive, to protect your

interests—“

“You do realize, Minister, that by having the girl murdered my grandfather is ensuring that she remains embedded in my mind forever?”

“For to kill her—To kill her now, innocent as she was, seemed to him as senseless as shooting arrows at the moon. That kind of light was not so easily extinguished, and what was there to celebrate in a success that would only leave the earth dimmer as a result?”

“But did it frighten him, the power she wielded over his emotions in so brief a time? Did it frighten him what he might be driven to do for such a girl if she became real? What he might be inspired to give up?

He drew a sudden breath.

No, it was not merely frightening. It felt more like terror; a feverish intoxication. Of all the young women to want, it was madness to want her. It shook him to admit this truth even in the privacy of his mind, but his feelings could no longer be denied.

Did it frighten him?

Quietly, he said, “Yes.” “

“ “What a strange girl you are,” she said quietly. “To behold a rose and perceive only its thorns, never the bloom.”Alizeh’s heart thudded painfully in her chest.”

“His was a life he’d never before questioned, for it had never before constrained him. He’d wanted for nothing, and as a result deigned not to lower himself to the experience of desire, for desire was the pastime of poorer men, men whose only weapons against the world’s cruelty were their

imaginations. Kamran desired nothing.”

“Kamran did not possess the necessary stupidity to desire anyone who sought only to claim his money, his power, his title. The very idea filled him with revulsion.”

“Dismissing the possibility of his own happiness had made it easy to accept his fate: that the king—and his mother—would choose him the most suitable bride. Even in a partner, he had learned to want and hope for nothing, resigning himself instead to what seemed inevitable.

Duty.

It was too bad, then, that the sole object of the young man’s first and only desire was now—he glanced up at the clock—yes, almost certainly dead.”

“He wondered whether he should exert a bit more pressure, whether he should crush the delicate drinkware in his hand, whether the glass might then shatter and lacerate his skin. The pain, he thought, might do him good.

He sighed.

Carefully, he replaced the glass on the tray.”

“He dared not close his eyes. He feared what he might see if he slept; what nightmares might plague him in the night.

It was his own fault, really.

He hadn’t asked to know the details. He hadn’t wanted to know how they’d come for her; he hadn’t wanted to be alerted when the deed was

done.

What Kamran hadn’t realized, of course, was how much worse it would be to leave such details to his imagination.

He drew in a deep breath.

And startled, suddenly, at the sound of furious pounding at his door.”

“The insinuation that she might be willing to swindle the girl for her coin cut a shade too close to Alizeh’s pride, but she knew better than to allow such blows to land. No, Alizeh understood well what it was like to feel scared—so scared you feared even to hope, feared the pitfall of disappointment. Pain made people prickly sometimes. It was par for the course; a symptom of the condition.”

“Six. Who would send six men to chase down a defenseless servant girl?”

“I am offering you amnesty,” Alizeh said. “I give you my word: walk away now and I will spare you. Leave in peace now and I will do you no harm.”

“ “Very well, then,” she said softly. Alizeh took a sharp breath, split the scissors open in her right hand, and lunged. She sent the blades flying, listening for contact—there, a cry—as a second assailant barreled toward her. She jumped, lifting her skirts as she spun and kicked him straight across the jaw, the force of her blow sending his head so far back she heard his neck snap just in time to face down her third opponent, at whom she threw an embroidery needle, aiming for his jugular.”

““Now,” she whispered, “you might consider telling me who sent you.” The man choked, his face purpling. With great effort, he shook his head. “You were the last of the six to approach me,” she said quietly. “Which means you are either the smartest—or the weakest. Either way, you will serve a purpose. If the former, you will know better than to cross me. If the latter, your cowardice will render you pliable.”-“I don’”—he choked, with sputtering difficulty—“I don’ understand ye.”-“Return to your master,” she said. “Tell them I wish to be left alone. Tell them to consider this a warning.”-She then dropped the man to the ground, where he fell badly and twisted an ankle. He cried out, wheezing as he struggled upright. “Get out of my sight,” said Alizeh softly. “Before I change my mind.” “

“Alizeh did not enjoy killing people.

She did not take lightly the death of any living being, for not only was it a difficult and exhausting business, but it left her tremendously sad. Alizeh had tried, over the years, only to injure, never to kill. She’d tried over and over to negotiate. She tried always to be merciful.

They laughed in her face every time.

Alizeh had learned the hard way that an unprotected woman of small stature and low station would never be treated with respect by her enemies. They thought her stupid and incapable; they saw only weakness in her for being kind.”

“Would she have to move again? she wondered. Would she have to rebuild again? So soon?”

“ “I demand you show yourself,” she said, frustrated. “I’ve had quite enough of this game. Show yourself or let me get on. I beg you.”-At that, a figure suddenly materialized. It was a young man in silhouette—Alizeh could not discern his face—and he fell suddenly on one knee before her. “Your Majesty,” he said softly.” “

“Here, Kamran had the advantage.

They needed to keep him alive—but to Kamran, his life was worth little, and he was more than willing to lose it in any struggle for his freedom.

What’s more, he’d been spoiling for a fight.

All day the prince had been containing his rage, trying to fight back the storm in his chest. This was a relief, then.

He would unleash it now.”

“ “Who sent you?” Kamran cried.-“I did.” Kamran dropped the man at once, drawing away as suddenly as if he’d been set aflame. The assailant slumped to the floor and the prince turned slowly around, astonishment reducing his motor functions near to nothing. A drop of blood dripped from his sword, landed on his boot. Kamran met his grandfather’s eyes. “You will join me directly,” the king said, “as we have a great deal to discuss.” “

“ “Forgive me,” the stranger said quietly. “I only meant to keep close to you tonight should you need assistance—which, clearly, you did not.” Even in shadow, she saw a flash of his smile. “My firefly, however, is quite taken with you and insists on seeking your attention whenever the opportunity arises.”-“It is your firefly, then?”-The stranger nodded. “Normally she’s more obedient, but when she sees you she seems to forget me entirely, and has been accosting you against my wishes these last two days. She first disobeyed me the night you met her at Baz House—she’d darted through the kitchen door even as I expressly forbid it. I apologize for any frustration her impulsiveness has caused.”-Alizeh blinked at him, bewildered. “Who are you? How do you know me? How did you know I might need help tonight?”-The stranger smiled broadly at that, a gleam of white in the dark. He then held out a gloved hand, within which was a small glass orb the size of a marble. “First,” he said. “This is for you.”-Alizeh went suddenly still. She’d recognized the object at once; it was called a nosta, an old Tulanian word for trust. To say that they were rare was a gross understatement of the truth. Alizeh had not seen one since she was a child; she thought they’d been all but lost to time.”

“Occasionally, she took me along. I cannot imagine you remember me, Your Majesty—”-“No,” she whispered, disbelief coloring her voice. “Can it be true? Is it possible you once taught me to play jacks?” In response, the smiling young man reached into his pocket, and presented her with a single hazelnut. A sudden, painful emotion seized her body then; a relief so large she could hardly fathom its dimensions. She thought she might cry.-“I have been waiting close to the crown, as my mother once did, for any news of your discovery. When I learned of your existence I began at once to make arrangements for your safe transfer. I take it you’ve received your invitation to the ball tomorrow night?”-Alizeh was still stunned, for a moment, into silence. “The ball?” she said finally. “Did you— Was that—?”-The stranger shook his head. “The original thought belonged to the child. I saw an opportunity and assisted. The context will help us.”-“I fear I’ve been rendered speechless,” she said softly. “I can only thank you, sir. I struggle now to think of anything else to say.”-And in a gesture of goodwill, she removed her snoda. The young man started, stepped back. He stared at her with wide eyes, with something like apprehension. She watched him struggle to look at her without appearing to look at all, and the realization almost made her laugh.”

“ “Very good. My firefly will seek you out when the moment is right. You may count on her to lead the way. Forgive me, Your Majesty.” He bowed. “It grows later by the minute, and I must now be gone. Already I have said too much.” He turned to leave.-“Wait,” she said softly, grabbing his arm. “Will you not at least tell me your name?”-He stared at her bandaged hand on his arm for a beat too long, and when he looked up, he said, “I am Hazan, Your Majesty. You may depend on me with your life.” “

““As your king,” the older man said coldly, “I charge you presently with the crime of treason—”-“Treason?” Kamran exploded. “On what basis?”

“in a location yet to be determined, your head severed from your body and impaled on a pike for seven days and seven nights for all the empire to bear witness.”-Kamran felt the blow of this declaration with his entire body, felt it shudder through him with breathtaking pain.

It left him hollow.

His grandfather—the man who’d raised him, who taught him most everything he knew, who’d been his role model all his life—was threatening him with execution? That King Zaal was even capable of such cruelty to his own kin was stunning enough, but more shattering was that Kamran could not begin to fathom what had brought them both to this moment.

Treason?”

“A muscle jumped in Kamran’s jaw. “I see now that your mind is already decided against me. That you refuse even to tell me what crime I have committed is evidence enough. If you wish me imprisoned, so be it. If you desire my head, you may have it. Worry not that I will struggle, Your Majesty. I would not defy the orders of my king.” The prince finally sheathed his sword and bowed. He kept his gaze on the filthy, pockmarked stone floor of the dungeons for what seemed a century but was more likely minutes. Or seconds.-When King Zaal finally spoke, his voice was subdued. “The girl is not dead,” he said.-Kamran looked up. It was a moment before he could speak, a brief head rush leaving him, for an instant, unsteady. “You’ve not killed her?”-King Zaal stared, unblinking, at the prince. “You are surprised.”-“Indeed I am, quite.” Kamran hesitated. “Though I admit I don’t understand the nature of the non sequitur. Of course, I’m deeply curious to know the reason for your changed mind toward the girl, but I am also anxious, Your Highness, to know whether I must soon make these grotesque quarters my home, and at the moment the latter point has claimed my full and undivided attention.”

““Do you deny it?” King Zaal demanded.-Kamran leveled a violent glare at his grandfather, hatred flashing through his body. “With my very soul. That you even think me capable of

such unworthiness is so insulting as to astonish me to the point of madness.” “

“ “So you sent armed men to my door? You sentenced me to indefinite imprisonment without trial? You would’ve risked my head over a mere misunderstanding—an assumption? Does this seem to you an appropriate reaction to your concerns, Your Majesty?”-King Zaal turned away, pressed two fingers against his closed lips. He appeared lost in thought. Kamran, on the other hand, was vibrating with fury.”

“It was true that he’d privately considered pushing back against his grandfather’s command to find a wife. It was true, too, that in a moment of madness he’d thought to warn the girl, had even fantasized about saving her life. But Kamran always knew, deep down, that those silent ravings were bred only of transient emotion; they were shallow feelings that could not

compete with the depth of loyalty he felt for his king, for his home, for his ancestors.

His empire.

Kamran would never have staged a counterattack against the king and his plans—not for a girl he did not know, not against the man who had been more of a father to him than his own had ever been able.

This betrayal— It could not be borne.”

““The girl is a Jinn!” Kamran shouted, hardly able to breathe for the vise clamping around his chest. “She is heir to a kingdom. Never mind the fact that she has preternatural strength and speed and can call upon invisibility at will—she was no doubt trained in self-defense from a young age, much like I was. Would you not expect me to easily defend myself against six ruffians, Your Highness? And yet? What? You thought a queen might be easy to murder?””

““And is that what you think of me, Your Highness? You think me weak of heart?”-“Yes.”-“I see.” The prince laughed, dragged both hands down his face, through his hair. He was suddenly so tired he wondered whether this was all just a dream, a strange nightmare.-“Kamran.” What was this, this feeling? This static in his chest, this burning in his throat? Was it the scorch of betrayal? Heartbreak? Why did Kamran feel suddenly as if he might cry?

He would not.

“You think compassion costs nothing,” his grandfather said sharply. “You think sparing an innocent life is easy; that to do otherwise is an indication only of inhumanity. You do not yet realize that you possess the luxury of compassion because I have carried in your stead the weight of every cruelty, of every mercilessness necessary to ensuring the survival of millions. I clear away the darkness,” the king said, “so that you might enjoy the light. I destroy your enemies, so that you might reign supreme. And yet you’ve decided now, in your ignorance, to hate me for it; to purposely misunderstand my motivations when you know in your soul that everything I have ever done was to secure your livelihood, your happiness, your success.””

“ “How then, pray, do you secure my livelihood and my happiness when you threaten to cut off my head?”-“Kamran—”-“If there is nothing else, Your Majesty.” The prince bowed. “I will now retire to my room. It has been a tediously long night.”-Kamran was already halfway to the exit when the king said—“Wait.”-The prince hesitated, took an unsteady breath. He didn’t look back when he said, “Yes, Your Highness?”-“Spare me a minute more, child. If you truly wish to assure me of your loyalty to the empire—”Kamran turned sharply, felt his body tense.“—there is a task of some importance I wish to charge you with now.” “

“No one had been there to spare her the gallows. No one had arrived to offer her a path to safety upon arrival in each new town; no one had been around to guide her to a gentle river or stream in the unnavigable crush of the city. No one came for her when she’d nearly died of thirst; or later, when she’d taken a desperate drink of sewer water and was poisoned so badly she’d been briefly paralyzed.

For two weeks Alizeh had lain in a frozen gutter, her body wracked by violent seizures. She had only enough energy to make herself invisible—to spare herself the worst harassment. She was certain back then, as she stared up at the silver moon, her lips chapped with frost and dehydration, that she would die there in the street, and die alone.

Long ago she’d ceased living with the hope of being rescued. Even when she was hunted and besieged by the worst of men and women, she no longer cried out for help—not when her many calls had gone unanswered.

Alizeh had learned, instead, to rely on herself.”

““Of all the days to be clumsy and brainless. I should have you whipped fo—”-“Put down your hand.” Mrs. Amina froze, blinking at the unexpected sound of his voice. The housekeeper’s hand fell with theatrical slow motion as she turned, confusion sharpening in her eyes, in the language of her body.-“I— I beg your pardon, sire—” “Step away from the girl.” The prince’s voice was low and murderous, his eyes flashing a shade of black so fathomless it terrified even Alizeh to look at him. “You forget yourself, ma’am. It is illegal under Ardunian law

to beat servants.”-Mrs. Amina gasped, then fell into a deep curtsy. “But— Sire—”-“I will not repeat myself again. Step away from the girl or I will have you arrested.””

“ “Your heart is one of legend,” the duchess was saying. “Of course, we all heard the story of your saving that filthy southern child, but now you come to the defense of a snoda? Kamran, my dear, you are too good for us. Come, let us take tea in my personal parlor, where we might have more quiet to reflect . . .”

Kamran.

His name was Kamran.

Alizeh did not know why this revelation comforted her as she was dragged away—or even why she cared.”

“Perhaps Hazan had been right. The prince was quite good at giving performances when he felt them necessary.”

“He did not like to think how poorly these revelations reflected on his aunt, but worse: he did not know whether he would’ve done any better. The prince knew not how every snoda in the palace was treated—and it had never once occurred to him to ask. Though he considered it was perhaps not too late to find out.”

“Kamran was stunned.

The small quarters—so small that he might’ve lain down and spanned the length of it—were warm and cozy, flooded with perfume, rich with color. No cockroach in sight.

Like a madman, he wanted to laugh.

How? How did she always manage to reduce him to this, to this shameful state? Once more he’d been convinced he understood her—had pitied her, even—and instead he was humbled by his own arrogance.

A vision of abject poverty, indeed.

The room was spotless.”

“The entire space came at once into view—and too late, Kamran saw the candle burning in an unseen corner.

He went suddenly solid.

There was the familiar press of a cold blade at his throat, the feel of her small hand at his back. He heard her soft breathing and could tell merely by the unmuffled sound that she did not wear her snoda.

He must’ve surprised her.

His flutter of anticipation suddenly magnified. It was a bizarre sensation, for what he felt even as she held a knife to his neck was not fear, but elation. She was not supposed to be here, and he’d not dared to hope he might find himself alone with her again.

A miracle, then: her hand still pressed against his back, her racing pulse nearly audible in the silence.

“Speak,” she said. “Tell me what you seek here. Answer honestly, and I give you my word I will leave you unharmed.”

Was it terrible that his heart pounded in his chest at the soft sound of her voice? Was it worrisome that he felt nothing but pleasure to be held at her mercy?

What a fascinating creature she was, to be so bold as to offer him his life in exchange for information. What worlds he might be inspired to give up, he wondered, in the pursuit of knowing more of her mind.

She pressed the knife harder. “Speak the truth now,” she said. “Or I will slit your throat.”

Not for a moment did he doubt her.

“I have been sent here as a spy,” he said. “I come here now to rummage through your room in the hopes of gathering intelligence.”

“The dangerously low cut of her chemise was held up only by a corset, and Kamran discovered, to his dismay, that he could not breathe.

The girl was not dressed.

She was not undressed, not at all, but she wore only her underskirts and corset, and was covering herself poorly with one hand, clutching her sopping dress against her exposed bodice, her right fist still clenched around a pair of scissors.

He’d forgotten how beautiful she was.”

““Turn around,” she said. “I must finish dressing.” It took him a moment to process the request. Not only had his mind been upended, but Kamran had never been ordered around by anyone but the king. He felt as if someone had shoved him bodily into a tragic inverse of his real life—and what surprised him most was that he did not dislike it.”

“ “None before me?” He smiled to himself. “Do you often find yourself in a position of negotiation with spies and cutthroats?”-“A great deal too often, in fact. Why—did you think yourself the first to find me a subject of interest?” A pause. “You may turn around now.”

He did.”

“She looked up sharply. “I beg your pardon?”-“You asked for a confession in exchange for my life, which I readily offered. But I never once promised to forfeit my task. I will understand, of course, if you’d rather not stay while I rifle through your things—and I suspect you are anxious to return to work. Shall I wait to begin until you are gone?”-The girl’s lips parted in shock, her eyes widening with disbelief. “Are you as mad as you sound, sir?”-“That is twice now that you have called me sir,” he said, a slight smile on his lips. “I can’t say I care for it.”-“Pray, what is it you would prefer I call you? Do tell me now and I’ll make a note to forget in future, as there is little chance our paths will cross again.”-“I should be very sorry if that were the case.”-“You say this even as you kick me out of my own room so that you might surveil it? Do you jest, sire?”-Kamran nearly laughed. “I see now that you do know who I am.”-“Yes, we are both well informed. I know your legacy as surely as you know mine.”-Kamran’s smile faded altogether.”

“ “You cannot answer the most pertinent questions, the ones most relevant to my life, to my welfare? And yet you smile and tease me, talk with me as if you are a friend and not a ruthless enemy. Where is your sense of honor, sire? I see you have misplaced it.”-Kamran swallowed. It was a moment before he spoke.“I do not blame you for hating me,” he said quietly. “And I will not attempt to convince you otherwise. There are aspects of my role—of my position—that bind me, and which I can only detest in the privacy of my own mind. I would ask that you allow me only this in my own defense: Do not misunderstand me,” he said, meeting her eyes. “I wish you no harm.” “

““With all due respect, I would point out only that you welcomed my arrival with a promise to slit my throat and have since been moved to tears at least twice in my presence. I would hardly call that sort of behavior constant.”-She clenched her fists. “Do you not think I am allowed to experience a full spectrum of emotion when my nerves are so mercilessly attacked—when you lay at my feet all manner of shocking revelations?”-“What I think,” he said, fighting back a smile, “is that you will soon be missed by your despicable housekeeper. I ask that you return to your duties only for fear that any further delay will cost you. You need not worry about me.” He glanced around the room. “I, too, have a task to accomplish.” “

““What are you doing?” She was tipping over the crate, dumping its contents into the bag, when she felt his hand on her arm. “Why are y—”-“You will not listen to me,” she said, pulling away. “I have asked you several times now to leave, and you will neither listen nor sufficiently explain yourself. As such, I have decided to ignore you.”-“Ignore me all you like, but why pack up your things? Have I not made it plain that I need to search them?”-“Your arrogance, sire, is astonishing.”-“I apologize, once again, for any inconvenience my personality has

caused you. Please unpack your belongings.”-Alizeh clenched her jaw. She wanted to kick him. “I have been dismissed from Baz House,” she said. “I cannot return to work. I have little time left to vacate the premises, after which I must, with all possible haste, run for my life.” She yanked the quilt off her bed. “So if you will please excuse me.” “

“She also all but sat in his lap.

Ferocious heat spread through her body, something like mortification. She could not move now for fear of exposing them, but neither did she know how she would survive this: his body pressed against hers, his warm breath at her neck. She inhaled the scent of him without meaning to—orange blossoms and leather—and the heady combination filled her head, startled her nerves.

“Is it possible you’re trying to kill me?” he whispered. “Your methods are highly unusual.”

She didn’t dare answer.”

“In fact, he drew her closer. “I beg your pardon,” he whispered in her ear. “But do you intend to sit on me in perpetuity?”

“The prince sat forward an inch and his jaw skimmed her cheek, hard and soft planes touching, retreating. She heard him exhale. “I haven’t the slightest idea what we’re doing,” he said softly. “Though if you mean to take me captive, you need only ask. I would come willingly.” “

““Very well.” He sighed. “Go on.”-“I’m a bit afraid of the dark.”-It was a moment before he said, “I beg your pardon?”-“Petrified, actually. I’m petrified of the dark. I feel very nearly

paralyzed right now.”-“You’re not serious.”-“I am, quite.”-“You killed five men last night—in the dark—and you expect me to believe this blather?”-“It’s true,” she insisted.-“I see. If you’ve constructed this falsehood merely to safeguard your modesty, you should know that it only undermines your intelligence, for the lie is too weak to be believed. You would be better off simply admitting that you find me attractive and wish to be near m—””

““By the angels,” he whispered. “You really are afraid of the dark. You strange girl.”-“I only need to orient myself. My—my bed is here, which means the door is just— just across there. I’ll be fine, you’ll see.”--“I don’t understand. Of all the things in your life to fear— I’ve seen you in the dark before, and you never reacted like this.”--“It was not”—she swallowed, steadied herself—“it was not entirely dark then. There are gas lamps lining the streets. And the moon—the moon is a great comfort to me.”-“The moon is a great comfort to you,” he repeated tonelessly. “What an odd thing to say.”--“Please don’t tease me. You said you wouldn’t.”-“I’m not teasing you. I’m stating a fact. You are very strange.”--“And you, sire, are unkind.”--“You’re crying in a dark room the size of my thumb; the door is but paces away. Surely you see that you are being nonsensical.”--“Oh, now you’re just being cruel.”--“I’m being honest.”--“You are being needlessly mean.”--“Mean? You say this to the man who just saved your life?” “

“I—” She faltered. Her mouth fell open. “Oh, you are a horrible person. You are a mean, horrible—”-“I am an extremely generous person. Have you already forgotten how long I allowed you to sit on me?”-Alizeh gasped. “How dare y—”-She stopped herself, the words dying in her throat at the muffled sound of his laughter, the palpable tremble of his body as he struggled to contain it. -“Why do you rile so easily?” he said, still fighting a laugh. “Do you not see that your effortless outrage only makes me want to provoke you more?”-Alizeh stiffened at that; felt suddenly stupid. “You mean you were teasing me? Even after I asked you not to?”-“Forgive me,” he said, the smile lingering in his voice. “I was teasing you, yes, but only because I’d hoped it would distract you from your fear. I see now that you do not laugh easily at yourself. Or others.” “

“She could not explain why, but she felt safe by his side. No doubt it was the work of the nosta, without which she might’ve questioned his every word and action. Indeed, knowing unequivocally that all he’d said to her today was true—“

“Alizeh had long ago been forced into a life of obscurity and insignificance. She was accosted and spat upon, beaten and disrespected. She’d been reduced to nothing in the eyes of society, was hardly recognized as a living being, and was promptly forgotten by most everyone she met.

It was a miracle, then, that he’d noticed her at all.

How, she wondered, had this prince been the only one to see something notable in her, something worth remembering? She’d never have said the words aloud, but his discovery—however dangerous—meant more to her than he would ever know.”

“ The prince closed the narrow gap between them until they were dangerously close—so close she suspected she’d need only to tilt up her chin and their lips would touch.

She could not calm her heart.

“You have consumed my thoughts since the moment I met you,” he said to her. “I feel now, in your presence, entirely strange. I think I might fetch you the moon if only to spare your tears again.”

Once more, the nosta flashed warm against Alizeh’s skin, proof that only terrified her heart into a gallop, sent a flood of feeling through her body. She felt disoriented, hyperaware, and still confused; only dimly cognizant of another world waiting for her; of danger and urgency waiting, waiting for her to surface.

“Tell me your name,” he whispered.

Slowly, very slowly, Alizeh touched her fingers to his waist, anchored herself to his body. She heard his soft intake of breath.

“Why?” she asked.

He hesitated, briefly, before he said, “I begin to fear you’ve done me irreparable damage. I should like to know who to blame.”

“Irreparable damage? Surely now you are exaggerating.”

“I only wish I were.”

“If that is true, sire, then it is best we part as anonymous friends, so as to spare each other further harm.”

“Friends?” he said, dismayed. “If your intention was to wound me, know you have succeeded.”---“You’re right.” She grinned. “We have no hope even of friendship. Best to simply say our goodbyes. Shall we shake hands?---“Oh, now you really do wound me.”--“Never fear, Your Highness. This brief interlude will be relegated to a graveyard populated by all manner of half- forgotten memories.”--He laughed, briefly, at that, but there was little mirth in it. “Do you take pleasure in torturing me with this drivel?”--“A bit, yes.”--“Well, I’m pleased to know I’ve rendered a service, at least.”--She was still smiling. “Farewell,” she whispered. “Our time together has come to an end. We will never again meet. Our worlds will never again collide.”-“Don’t say that,” he said, suddenly serious. His hand moved to her waist, traveled up the curve of her rib cage. “Say anything but that.”--Alizeh was no longer smiling. Her heart was beating so hard she thought it might bruise. “What shall I say, then?”--“Your name. I want to hear it from your lips.”--She took a breath. Released it slowly. “My name,” she said, “is Alizeh. I am Alizeh of Saam, the daughter of Siavosh and Kiana. Though you may know me better as the lost queen of Arya.”--He stiffened at that, went silent. -Finally he moved, one hand capturing her face, his thumb grazing her cheek in a fleeting moment, there and gone again. His voice was a whisper when he said, “Do you wish to know my name, too, Your Majesty?”-“Kamran,” she said softly. “I already know who you are.”

“She was unprepared when he kissed her, for the darkness had denied her a warning before their lips met, before he claimed her mouth with a need that stole from her an anguished sound, a faint cry that shocked her.

She felt his desperation as he touched her, as he kissed her in every passing second with a need greater than the one before, inspiring in her a response she could not fathom into words.”

“ She dared to touch him, too, to feel the expanse of his chest, the sculpted lines of his body; she felt him change as she discovered him, breathe harder when she touched her lips to the sharp line of his jaw, the column of his neck. He made a sound, a low moan in his throat, igniting a flare of awareness in her chest that flashed across her skin before his back was suddenly against the wall, his arms braced around her waist. Still, she could not seem to get close enough. She despaired when he broke away, feeling the loss of him even as he kissed her cheeks, her closed eyes, and suddenly his hands were in her hair, pulling pins, reaching for the buttons of her dress—

Oh.

Alizeh tore away, stumbled back on unsteady legs.”

“You misunderstand me,” he said with feeling. “I did nothing I didn’t want to do. I want nothing more than to do it again.”

Oh, no, she couldn’t breathe.

What she realized then, even as her body trembled, was a single, unassailable fact: what had transpired between her and the prince was much more than a kiss. Even inexperienced as she was, Alizeh possessed awareness enough to understand that something extraordinary had sparked between them.

Something uncommon.

It was critical that she first acknowledge this in order to next acknowledge something else: there was no future for them.”

“She stared at him, her heart beating in her throat. “Surely you must see,” she said. “There exists no bridge between our lives; no path that connects our worlds.”-“How can that matter? Is this not one day to be my empire, to rule as I see fit? I will build a bridge. I can clear a path. Or do you not think me capable?”-“Don’t say things now that you cannot mean. We are neither of us in our right minds—”-“I grow tired,” he said, trying to breathe, “of being in my right mind. I much prefer this kind of madness.”-Alizeh gripped with both hands the handle of her carpet bag and took a nervous step back. “You should not— You should not say such things to me—”--He drew closer. “Do you know I am meant to choose a bride tonight?”-Alizeh was surprised by her own shock at that, by the vague nausea that struck her. She felt suddenly ill. Confused.-“I am meant to marry a complete stranger,” he was saying. “A candidate chosen by others to be my wife—to one day be my queen—” -“Then—then I offer my congratulations—””

“He had to see her—to speak with her just once more—“

““You must have mercy, my dear,” she said. “News of our melancholy prince will spread far beyond Setar if you do not soon exercise some discretion.”-With great care, the prince returned the flower to its vase. “Is our world really so ridiculous,” he said quietly, “that my every action is newsworthy, ripe for dissection? Am I not allowed a modicum of humanity? Can I not enjoy simple beauty without censure and suspicion?”-“That you even ask such a question tells me you are not yourself.” She drew closer. “Kamran, you will one day be king. The people look to your disposition as a bellwether of all to come; the temperature of your heart will define the tenor of your rule, which will in turn affect every aspect of their lives. Surely you do not forget this. You could not resent the people their curiosity—not when you know how dearly your life concerns their own.”-“Certainly not,” he said with affected calm. “How could I? I should never resent them their fears, nor could I ever forget the shackles that so loudly ornament my every waking moment.” “

“She’d touched him with a tenderness that drove him wild, had looked into his eyes with a sincerity that broke him.”

““Your Highness.”Kamran turned at the heated sound of his minister’s voice. Hazan could not—and made no effort, in any case—to hide his irritation.”

“Alizeh did not know the full scope of Hazan’s plan for her escape, but she doubted it’d have much to do with the festivities themselves, and the prince—for whom the ball had been arranged—would no doubt be expected to engage fully in its activities.

No, they would certainly not see each other again.”

“She was homeless. Jobless. All she owned in the world she carried in a single, worn carpet bag, the sum total of her coin scarcely two coppers altogether. She had nothing and no one to claim but herself, and it would have to be enough.

It would always have to be enough.

Even in her most desperate moments, Alizeh had found the courage to move forward by searching the depths of herself; she’d found hope in the sharpness of her mind, in the capacity of her own capable hands, in the endurance of her unrelenting spirit.

She would be broken by nothing.

She refused.”

““It is not so simple a task,” she’d explained. “The magic must be gathered by a quorum of loyal subjects, all of whom must be willing to die for you in the process. The earth has chosen you to rule, my dear, but you must first be found worthy of the role by your own people. Five must be willing to sacrifice their lives to give rise to your reign; only then will the mountains part with their power.””

“Wear this tonight, and you will be seen only by those who wish you well.”

“No, it was not that the prince felt unprotected.

Despite the breathtaking views from this vantage point, Kamran avoided lingering too long on this bridge because it reminded him of his childhood, of one day in particular. He found it hard to believe that so much time had passed since that fateful day, for it still felt to him, in certain moments, as if the event had occurred but minutes ago.

In fact, it had been seven years.

Kamran’s father had been away from Ardunia then, gone from home for months to lead a senseless war in Tulan. A young Kamran had been stuck at home with tutors, a distant mother, and a preoccupied king; the long stretches of worry and boredom had been interrupted only by visits to his aunt’s house.”

“When, after a long moment, the doors had not opened, Kamran had wrenched them open himself.

He later found out that they’d sent word—of course, they’d sent word—but none had thought to include the eleven-year-old child in the dissemination of the news, to tell him that his father was no longer coming home.

That his father was, in fact, dead.

There, on a lush seat in a carriage as familiar to him as his own name, Kamran saw not his father, but his father’s bloody head, sitting on a silver plate.”

“Kamran could not imagine living in a world without his father; he could not imagine living in a world that would do such a thing to his father. He had walked calmly to the edge

of the bridge, climbed its high wall, and pitched himself into the icy, churning river below.

It was his grandfather who’d found him, who dove into the frozen depths to save him, who’d pulled Kamran’s limp blue body from the loving arms of Death. Even with the Diviners working to restart his heart, it was days before Kamran opened his eyes, and when he did, he saw only his grandfather’s familiar brown gaze; his grandfather’s familiar white hair. His familiar, gentle smile.

Not yet, the king had said, stroking the young boy’s cheek.

Not just yet.”

““I know why the actions of the street child shocked you so,” the king said quietly. “I know why you made a spectacle of the moment, why you felt compelled to save him. It has required of us a great deal to manage the situation, but I was not angered by your actions, for I knew you meant no harm. Indeed, I know you’d not been thinking at all.”

Kamran looked into the distance. Again, he said nothing.

King Zaal sighed. “I have seen the shape of your heart since the moment you first opened your eyes. All your life, I’ve been able to understand your actions—I’ve been able to find meaning even in your mistakes.” He paused. “But never before have I struggled as I do now. I cannot begin to fathom your abiding interest in this girl, and your actions have begun to frighten me more than I care to admit.”

“This girl?” Kamran turned back; his chest felt suddenly tight. “There is nothing to discuss as pertains to her. I thought we’d finished with that conversation. This very morning, in fact.” “

““King Zaal nodded. “Their young king, Cyrus, is not to be trifled with. He murdered his own father, as you well know, for his seat at the throne, and his attendance at the ball tonight, while not an outright portent of war, is no doubt an unfriendliness we should approach with caution.”-“I fully agree.”-“Good. Very g—” His grandfather took a sharp breath, losing his balance for an alarming moment. Kamran caught King Zaal’s arms, steadying him even as the prince’s own heart raced now with fear. It did not matter how much he raged against his grandfather or how much he pretended to detest the older man; the truth was always here, in the terror that quietly gripped him at the prospect of his loss.-“Are you quite all right, Your Majesty?””

““You must prepare yourself. I will soon be unable to spare you the sight of a blood-soaked countryside, though Lord knows I’ve tried, these last seven years.”-Kamran stilled at that; his mind grasping at a frightening supposition. All his life he’d wondered why, after the brutal murder of his father, the king had not avenged the death of his son, had not unleashed the fury of seven hells upon the southern empire. It had never made sense to the young prince, and yet, he’d never questioned it, for Kamran had feared, for so long after his father’s death, that revenge would mean he’d lose his grandfather, too.-“I don’t understand,” Kamran said, his voice charged now with emotion. “Do you mean to say that you made peace with Tulan—for my sake?”-The king smiled a mournful smile. His weathered hand fell away from the prince’s shoulder. “Does it shock you,” he said, “to discover that I, too, possess a fragile heart? A weak mind? That I, too, have been unwise? Indeed, I’ve been selfish. I’ve made decisions—decisions that would affect the lives of millions—that were motivated not by the wisdom of my mind, but by the desires of my heart. Yes, child,” he said softly. “I did it for you. I could not bear to see you suffer, even as I knew that suffering was inevitable. “I tried, in the early hours of the morning,” the king went on, “to take control of my own failings, to punish you the way a king should punish any man who proves disloyal. It was an overcorrection, you see. Compensation for a lifetime of restraint.”-“Your Majesty.” Kamran’s heart was pounding. “I still don’t understand.” “

““My greatest weakness, Kamran, has always been you. I wanted always to shelter you. To protect you. After your father”—he hesitated, took an unsteady breath—“afterward, I could not bear to part from you. For seven years I managed to delay the inevitable, to convince our leaders to set down their swords and make peace.(..)“War is coming,” he whispered. “It has been a long time coming. I only hope I’ve not left you unprepared to face it.” “

“Second, Hazan had left her a breathtaking gown to wear to the ball tonight, which would not only spare her the time and possible cost of fashioning such a complicated article in a short time, but it spared her the need to find a safe space to work. This was not even mentioning the fact that the gown was somehow imbued with magic—magic that claimed it would conceal her identity from any who wished her ill.

This was perhaps the greatest good fortune of all.”

“Alizeh could not, as a result, imagine how Hazan was able to procure such rare items on her behalf. First the nosta, and now the dress?”

“Stunned, Alizeh said, “You wondered why I would care if your mother might actually murder you?”-“Is that not what I just said?”-“Are you— Are you quite serious, miss?” Alizeh knew Miss Huda was serious, but somehow she couldn’t help asking the question.”

“Omid would wonder whether she’d abandoned him. Hazan would wonder whether she’d been able to secure safe passage to the ball. She couldn’t be late. She simply couldn’t. There was too much at stake.”

“It had never been for fear of the masses that Alizeh hid her face; it was for fear of a single, careful eye. Exposure to the wrong stranger and she knew her life was forfeit; indeed, her precarious position in that very moment was proof. Somehow, impossibly, Kamran had seen through her guile, had seen through even her snoda.

In all these years, he’d been the only one.”

“ “When Alizeh finally looked up to meet the young woman’s gaze, Miss Huda went rigid with fear. “Heavens,” she gasped. “It’s you.” “

““No doubt you forgot,” she said, cutting him off. “No doubt my request fell right out of your pretty head the moment it was spoken. So swiftly am I forgotten.”-To this, Kamran said nothing, for if she’d indeed asked for a moment of his time, he could not now recall such a summons. His mother stepped closer. “Soon,” she said, “I will be all you have left in this palace. You will walk the halls, friendless and alone, and you will search for me then. You will want your mother only when all else is lost, and I do not promise to be easily found.”-Kamran had felt an unnerving sensation move through his body at that; a foreboding he could not name. “Why do you say such things? Of what do you speak?””

“The news from Tulan had been less distressing than Kamran had expected and yet, somehow, so much worse.

“Remind me again, Minister, why on earth the man was even invited?” Hazan, who’d been standing quietly in the corner, now cleared his throat. He looked from Kamran to the seamstress, his eyes widening in warning.”

“ “There’s little point in your sitting here,” the prince said irritably. “You should return to your own rooms. No doubt you have preparations to make before the evening begins.”-“I thank you for your consideration, sire,” Hazan said coldly. “But I will remain here, by your side.”-“You overreact,” said the prince. “Besides, if you should be concerned for anyone, it should not be me, but th—””

““Perhaps it only seems different,” said Hazan quietly, “because you’ve lately been rendered an idiot, and stupidity has clouded your better judgment.”-Kamran shot his minister a dark look and promptly pulled his sweater over his head, tugging its hem down over his torso. He looked around for the seamstress. “You need not worry,” Hazan said. “She’s gone.”-“Gone?” The prince frowned. “But— Were not we the ones who were meant to leave the dressing room? Was she not meant to stay here to finish the work she’d started?” “

“Kamran shot him a look. “You know very well to what I am referring.”-“To whom you are referring, you mean?” Hazan almost smiled. “The Tulanian king is with the ambassador now. He should be arriving at the palace within the hour.”-“Lord, but I hate him,” Kamran said, pushing a hand through his hair. “He has the kind of face that should be kicked in, repeatedly.”-“That seems a bit unfair. It’s not the fault of the Tulanian ambassador that he’s charged with an empire so widely detested. The gentleman himself is nice enough.”-Kamran turned sharply to face his minister. “Obviously I’m speaking of the king.”-Hazan frowned. “The king? Cyrus, you mean? I’d not realized you’d met him before.”-“No. I’ve not yet had the pleasure. I’m merely assuming he has the kind of face that should be kicked in, repeatedly.”-Hazan’s frown cleared at that; he fought back another smile. “You do not underestimate him, I hope?” -“Underestimate him? The child killed his own father. He stole a bloody crown from the rightful king for all the world to bear witness, and now he shows his shameless face here? No, I do not underestimate him. I think him mad. Though I must say I fear our own officials misprize him, and to their detriment. They underestimate him for the same inane reasons they underestimate me.”-“Your lack of experience, you mean?”-Kamran turned away. “My age, you miserable rotter.”-“So easily provoked.” Hazan stifled a laugh. “You are in quite a state, today, Your Highness.”-“You might do us all a favor, Hazan, and begin to manage your expectations of my state. This is where I live, minister. Here, between angry and irritable, lies my charming personality. It does not change. You may be grateful that I am consistent, at least, in being boorish.”-Hazan’s smile grew only wider. “I say, these are strange declarations from Setar’s melancholy prince.”-Kamran stiffened. Very slowly, he turned to face Hazan. “I beg your pardon?” (………..) “It says right here,” Hazan said, scanning the paper, “that you are a sentimental idiot, that your bleeding heart has been laid bare twice now, once for a street child and now for a snoda—”-“Give that to me,” Kamran said, jumping to his feet to snatch the paper out of Hazan’s hands, which he promptly tossed in the fire.-“I’ve got another copy, Your Highness.”-“You disloyal wretch. How can you even read such garbage?”-“I may have exaggerated a bit,” Hazan admitted. “The article was actually quite complimentary. Your random acts of kindness toward the lower classes seem to have won the hearts of common folk, who seem only too eager to praise your actions.”-Kamran was only slightly mollified. “Even so.”-“Even so.” Hazan cleared his throat. “You were kind to a snoda, then?”-“It’s not worth discussing.”-“Is it not? When you spent a great part of the morning in the company of your aunt at Baz House, where we both know resides a young woman of interest? A young woman in a snoda?”-“Oh, shove off, Hazan.” Kamran collapsed once again in his chair. “The king is well aware of both my actions and my reasons, which should be more than enough for you. Why are you trailing me, anyway? It’s not as if the Tulanian king will murder me in my own home.”-“He might.”-“What good would it do him? If you’re so concerned, you should be protecting the king. I’m perfectly capable of defending myself.”-“Your Highness,” Hazan said, looking suddenly concerned. “If you harbor any uncertainty about the life hurtling toward you, allow me to assure you now: the inevitable is coming. You must prepare yourself.”-Kamran turned away, exhaling toward the ceiling. “You mean my grandfather will die.”-“I mean you will soon be crowned king of the largest empire in the known world.”--“Yes,” said the prince. “I’m quite aware.”A tense silence stretched between them.”

““Your Highness, this is absurd,” the minister said in a forceful whisper. “Why would the boy request an audience at this hour? I don’t trust it.” The prince studied Hazan a moment: the flash of panic in his eyes, the tense form of his body, the hand he held aloft to stop him. Kamran had known Hazan too many years to misunderstand him now, and a sharp, disorienting unease moved suddenly through the prince’s body. Something was wrong.-“I don’t know,” Kamran said. “Though I intend to find out.”-“Then you intend to make a mistake. This could be a trap—”(..)When they were alone, Hazan turned to face the prince. “Are you mad? I don’t understand why you’d consent t—”-In a single, swift movement Kamran grabbed Hazan by the collar and slammed his back against the wall. Hazan gasped.-“You are hiding something,” Kamran said darkly. “What is your game?”

“Had the insect obeyed a command? Or had Kamran lost his mind? He spared his minister a single, strange glance before he quit the room, pulling open the door with forced calm and striding down the hall with unusual speed, his skin prickling with unease.

Where had the blasted creature gone?”

““Suddenly, Miss Huda gasped.“Is that why you weren’t able to finish my gown?” she asked. “Are you running for your life this very moment?”-“Yes.”-Miss Huda gasped again, this time lifting a hand to her cheek. “Oh, how terribly thrilling.”-“It’s nothing of the sort.”-“Perhaps not for you. I think I wouldn’t mind running for my life. Or running away, generally.””

““Oh,” Miss Huda cried, her eyes shining now with excitement. “Oh, I’ve figured it out, I’ve figured it out. You only wore the snoda to protect your identity, didn’t you? Did you pretend to work at Baz House, too? Are you a spy? Are you employed by the crown?””

“When the path is unclear, these shoes will lead the way.

Slowly, fresh words bloomed on the blank note before her: sharp, dark strokes as substantial as if they were written in real time, by an invisible hand.

Don’t be alarmed.

I am not your enemy.”

““I don’t—” Miss Huda hesitated. “You know, I don’t actually know her name.” Another tense silence.-“I see,” he said, sounding suddenly annoyed. “So you must be the other

one.”-“The other one? Oh for heaven’s sake,” she muttered. “Come out here right this second, Your Majesty, or I will come back there and murder you.””

“The stranger, she noted, was a surprise. His age seemed nonspecific; she suspected he was still a young man, but he presented right away as an old soul wrapped in the cloak of youth. His skin was a burnished golden brown, his hair a sharp wave of red copper. He wore simple, unadorned black clothes—coat, jacket—and clutched in one hand both a tall black hat and a golden mace. He had bright, startlingly blue eyes, but there was something tragic about them, too, a heaviness there that made him hard to look at—and all the more so when he stared at her, his eyes widening a barely there micrometer as she moved into view. “Oh,” he said.-Alizeh did not spare time for niceties. “How do you know me?”-“I never said I did.”-“You don’t even know each other?” Miss Huda said, glancing wildly from one to the other. To Alizeh, she said, “You don’t know this person?”-Alizeh shook her head.-“Then get out of my room, you madman.” Miss Huda all but pushed the stranger toward the door. “Out with you— Out at once, you horrible cad, sneaking into young ladies’ bedrooms without permi—””

““It was you,” Alizeh said, meeting the eyes of the stranger. “It was you who sent me this dress? And the shoes?”-He hesitated a beat before saying, “Yes.”-“Why?”-“I was returning a favor.”-“A favor?” She frowned. “A favor to me?”-“No.”-Alizeh drew back. “To whom, then?”-“To our mutual friend.””

““What is your name?” she asked.-“My name is irrelevant.”-“Irrelevant?” she said, surprised. “What am I to call you then?”-“Nothing.””

““We have only two options,” he said. “Kill her or take her with us. The error was mine, so I will leave the decision up to you. It is my strong recommendation, however, that we kill her.”-“Kill me?” Miss Huda cried. “You cannot be serious—”-“No— No, we are not going to kill you,” Alizeh said, shooting an unkind look at Nothing. Then, trying for a smile, she turned to Miss Huda.“Though you did say you thought you might like to run away, didn’t you?” “

“Nothing stared at the scene unfolding before him, looking vaguely nauseated.“The details are spare,” he said. “I will extend you a level of protection until we reach the ball, and shortly after our arrival I will escort you to a secure method of transport. This transport will deliver you to your  destination.”-“But where is my destination?” Alizeh asked. “What happens when I arrive?”-“Oh—and will it rain where we are going?” Miss Huda asked. “Will I need an umbrella?”-The stranger closed his eyes. “I cannot now tell you where you are going, but I can assure you that your destination is safe. Already I’ve guaranteed you an extra measure of protection with the dress and shoes.”-Alizeh blinked at that; at the reminder. “Of course,” she said, glancing at her gown and boots. “I nearly forgot. How do the items work, exactly?”-“Did you not read the notes?” “

““Thank you,” she said. “I know the burden is cumbersome, but you render me a great kindness tonight, and I won’t soon forget it.”-The stranger flinched at that, stared at her a beat too long. “I don’t do it to be kind.”-“I know.”-“Then don’t,” he said, sounding, for the first time, like he owned a real emotion: anger. “Don’t thank me.”-Alizeh stiffened. “Very well, then. I retract my formal thanks. Still, I am grateful.”-“Don’t be.”-She raised her eyebrows. “Do you intend to command me not to feel my own emotions?”-“Yes.”-“That’s absurd.”-“And yet, if you are truly grateful for my assistance, you might do me a favor and resist speaking to me altogether.”-Alizeh went slack. “Why are you trying to be cruel?”

“Alizeh rounded on Nothing. “What have you done?” she demanded. “I insist you change her back this instant.”-“I will not.”---“Are you some kind of Diviner?”--“No.”---“A monster, then?”---He almost smiled. “Don’t say you’ve been speaking with my mother?”-“How do you have access to so much magic, then? The dress, the shoes—now this—”-“And this,” he said, placing his hat atop his head.

Without warning, Alizeh was pitched forward into endless night.”

““Does it truly matter, Your Highness, when I already know you will choose for me whomever you think is best?”-King Zaal went quiet at that, and Kamran’s heart wrenched at the confirmation of his fears. “Even so,” the king said finally. “You might at least act as if you are at a ball and not a funeral, dire though the circumstances may be. I want your engagement announced before the week is out. I want you married before the month is done. I want an heir before the year is finished. This night is not to be disturbed before its purpose is fulfilled. Are we clear?”-The prince tensed his jaw and studied the crowd, wondering how their numbers seemed to bloat before his eyes. “Yes, Your Majesty,” he said quietly.”

“Alizeh.

The prince was transfixed. Blood rushed from his head without warning, leaving him light-headed.

She was here.

She was here—just there—incandescent in shimmering waves of lavender, obsidian curls pinned away from her unmasked face, a few loose tendrils glancing off her cheeks, which had gone pink with exertion. If he’d thought her breathtaking in the drab garb of a servant’s dress, he could not think how to describe her now. He only knew that she seemed apart from this mundane world; above it.

The mere sight of her had paralyzed him.

There was no linen at her throat, no bandages wrapped around her hands. She seemed to glow as she moved, float as she searched the room. Kamran lost his breath as he watched her, felt his heart hammer in his chest with a violence that scared him.

How? How was she here? Had she come for him? Had she come to find

him, to be with him—?”

“The prince watched, as if from outside himself, as a young man grabbed Alizeh’s hand. She spun around to face him, her eyes widening in surprise, then recognition.

He said something, and she laughed.

Kamran felt the sound spear him like a blade, his chest seizing with an unfamiliar pain. It was an ache unlike any he’d known; one he wished to tear out of his chest.

“That’s him,” Hazan whispered suddenly in his ear. “It’s the gentleman with the copper hair, Your Highness. The one carrying the unusual hat. The Tulanian ambassador has confirmed it.” “

““Where are you going?” He sounded different; the antithesis of the impassive young man she’d first met. “You don’t intend to run away, do you?”-Alizeh was so surprised by the fear in his eyes that she laughed. “No, I’m not running away, you ridiculous creature. I’m searching for Miss Huda. She is doubtless terrified somewhere and unable to call for help— because of what you did to her.” “

““Do you frighten easily?”-Alizeh bristled at this. “You insult me even by asking the question.”-“Good. Then I ask for your word.”-“You will not have it.”-His eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?”-“I will only grant such a request if you first swear you won’t harm her.”-“Who? The loud girl?”-“Swear you won’t hurt her, or use magic on her—”-“Oh, come now, you ask for too much.”-“You want my word I will not run away?” Alizeh said. “Well, I need to be able to trust you. Give me your word that you will not harm her. That is my condition.”-“Very well,” he said bitterly. “But I must warn you—if you go back on your promise, there will be repercussions.”-“What kinds of repercussions?”-“I will not be nice to you.”-Alizeh laughed. “Do you mean to imply that you are being nice to me now?” “

“He was forced into her company by a merciless master? That didn’t sound like Hazan, but then, what did she really know of him? Of anyone?”

““This is silk, yes,” she explained, “but it’s silk woven with a gold-spun weft. The threads are, in some places, wrapped with gold fibers. And here”—she grazed the raised embroidery at the collar, at the lapels—“here it’s overlaid with yet more goldwork. These are real gold threads, did you not know?”--“No,” he said, but he was staring at her strangely; for a moment his gaze dropped to her mouth. “I didn’t know one might weave gold into fabric.”-Alizeh took a breath, stole back her hand.-“Yes,” she said. “The garment should feel heavy, and perhaps a bit rough against the skin, but it shouldn’t hurt you. It certainly shouldn’t feel like needles.”-“How do you know this?”-“Never mind that,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “What’s more important is that you are in pain.”-“Yes.” He took a step closer. “A great deal of it.””

“ “Say you came back for me,” he whispered. There was a thread of desire in his voice that threatened the good sense in her head, her very composure. “Tell me you came to find me. That you changed your mind.”-“How—how can you even say such things,” she said, her hands beginning to tremble, “on an evening you are meant to choose another as your bride?”-“I choose you,” he said simply. “I want you.”-“We— Kamran, you cannot— You know it would be madness.”-“I see.” He bowed his head and drew away, leaving her cold. “So you’ve come for another reason entirely. Will you not share that reason with me now?”-Alizeh said nothing. She could think of nothing. She heard him sigh. It was a moment before he said, “Then may I ask you a different question?”-“Yes,” she said, desperate to say something. “Yes, of course.”-He looked up, met her eyes. “How, precisely, do you know the Tulanian king?” “

“I’ve been searching for you everywhere . . .” Hazan trailed off, coming to an abrupt halt at the prince’s side. The minister’s body was rigid with shock as he stared, not at the prince, but at Alizeh, whose silver eyes were no doubt all he needed to verify her identity.-Kamran sighed. “What is it, Minister?”-“Minister?”-The prince turned at the surprised sound of Alizeh’s voice. She stared at Hazan curiously, as if he were a puzzle to be solved, instead of an official to be greeted.-Not for the first time, Kamran thought he might be willing to part with

his soul simply to know the contents of her mind.-“Your Highness,” said Hazan, bowing his head, his eyes cast down.“You must go. It’s not safe for you here.”-“What on earth are you talking about?” Kamran frowned. “This is my home, of course it’s safe for me here.”-“There are complications, Your Highness. You must go. Surely you received my message.”-Now Kamran grew irritated. “Hazan, have you lost your mind?”- (….)He watched as Hazan glanced from Alizeh to the prince, looking suddenly frantic—and Kamran couldn’t be entirely certain, but for a moment he thought he saw Hazan shake his head at her. Or did he nod?-Alizeh surprised them both by dropping into an elegant curtsy. “Good evening, sir,” she said.-“Yes—yes, good evening.” Awkwardly, Hazan bowed. To the prince, he said quietly, “Sire, the king awaits.”-“You may tell the king that I’ll b—”-“Alizeh!”-Kamran went immobile at the sound of the unexpected voice. Of all people, Omid Shekarzadeh moved fast toward them now, ignoring both the prince and his minister in his pursuit of Alizeh, who

beamed at the boy. “Omid,” she called back, rushing forward to meet him.-And then, to Kamran’s utter astonishment, she drew the child into her arms. She hugged the street urchin who’d nearly murdered her. Kamran and Hazan exchanged glances.”(……...)“I beg your pardon?” Hazan interjected. “Who is this person? Why would she say such things to you? How does she know anyth—”--“While we’re asking questions, how on earth do you know this young woman’s name?” Kamran interjected. “How are the two of you even on speaking terms?”--“Begging your pardon, Your Highness,” Omid said, “but I could ask you the same question.”--“You little blighter—”--“Actually, Omid is the reason I’m here tonight,” Alizeh interjected quietly, and Kamran went taut with surprise. Always, she astonished him. (………….)-“But who was the woman?” Hazan demanded. “The one who told you that”—nervously, he glanced at Alizeh—“that this young lady was a queen?”-Kamran shot his minster a warning look. “Surely it was a lark, Minister. A silly jest to startle the child.”-“Oh, no, sire.” Omid shook his head emphatically. “She weren’t joking. She seemed pretty serious, and scared, actually. She said she was hiding from someone, from a man who’d done some awful magic on her, and that if I found Alizeh I should tell her to run away.” He frowned. “The lady was mighty strange.”-A shock of fear moved through the prince then, apprehension he could no longer push aside. A man who’d done magic? Surely there could be little doubt as to the identity of the culprit? All of Setar’s Diviners were dead. None but King Cyrus was suspected of using magic this night. What other havoc might the monstrous king have wrought? The prince locked eyes with Hazan, who looked similarly panicked.-“Omid,” Alizeh said quietly. “Will you show me where this lady was hiding?””

“Oh, if only she could get Hazan alone—if she could secure even a minute of his time—“

“Omid. “Miss,” he said urgently. “That’s the voice of the lady who was hiding earlier. I think she needs help.”-Alizeh glanced up at the tall twelve-year-old. “Yes,” she said. “Can you take me to her? And quickly?””

“Miss Huda did not hold aloft her arms, but a candelabra, and she was approaching the tall shadow as if she might strike him. “Not so powerful now, are you?” she was saying. “Not so scary anymore, no, not when you’re at my mercy.”-“Listen, loud one,” came the acerbic, familiar voice of the stranger. “I’ve tried to be patient with you for her sake, but if you won’t cooperate, I’ve no choice but t—”--“No,” Miss Huda shouted. “You will never again use magic on me, sir, never again, or, or I’ll—I’ll do something terrible— I’ll have you trampled by a team of horses—”--“I never said I would use more magic on you,” he said sharply. “Lest you forget, I was minding my own business when you hit me on the head— in a most unladylike fashion, I might add—exhibiting such violence, and when I’ve been nothing but accommodating—”--“Accommodating?” she cried. “You stole my voice! And then you dumped me unceremoniously into the heart of a royal ball in my muslin day dress! I’m not with my family, I was never formally announced, no one even knows I’m here, and now I’ll never meet the prince.” Her chest heaved as she struggled for breath. “Do you even realize the cruelty of your actions?” she said, swiping at him with the candelabra. He dodged her attacks. “I can’t let anyone see me like this. As if my social standing wasn’t already in tatters, now I’m at the palace—for possibly the biggest event of the season—and I’ve not done my hair, I’ve got food in my teeth, I’ve not changed my slippers, I’ve no idea how I’ll get home from here—”--“Do you know, I’ve changed my mind,” said the young man. “Perhaps I will kill you. Though, alternatively, if you’re so apprehensive about the opinions of others I could always knock back your brain an inch—”-For the third time, Miss Huda screamed.-“Oh no,” Omid whispered. “This isn’t good.” “

“If the prince had been able to spot her in the crowd, he must’ve also seen her speaking with the blue-eyed stranger—and, devils above, what he must’ve thought of her. She’d been consorting with the Tulanian king just hours after kissing an Ardunian prince.”

“Had Hazan struck a deal with the Tulanian king? If so, how? Why? What grand favor would a minister have been able to provide a king, so much so that he’d risk his reputation as sovereign of a formidable empire to assist her? What on earth had Hazan done? Alizeh looked up again when she heard the stranger’s voice.

“And you must be the prince,” he was saying. “The beloved Prince Kamran, the melancholy royal of Setar, friend to street child and servant alike. Your reputation precedes you, sire.”-“How dare you speak to the prince in such a manner, you miserable swine,” Miss Huda cried, angrily swiping at her tears before lifting the candelabra above her head. “Guards! Guards!””

“Kamran drew his sword and approached the flames at a proximity that made Alizeh gasp. “You would speak ill of the king in his own home—on his own land?” said the prince with thunderous calm. “Release the girl now, or I will have your head.”-“Pray tell me, sire, how will you reach my head? With what magic will you walk through fire to claim it? With what power will you extinguish mine when your Diviners are all dead?”At that, the room erupted in gasps and shouts, cries of astonishment and fear. Alizeh spun around, taking it all in. Her heart wouldn’t stop racing in her chest.

“Is it true?”

“He’s a madman—”

“Where is the king?”

“—but it cannot be—”

“Don’t believe a word of it—”

“The king! Where is the king?””

““Your fight is with me, is it not?” King Zaal said quietly.-“Not at all,” said the fool brightly. “There will be no fight, Your Majesty. When I am done with you, you will be begging me to end your life.” King Zaal barked a laugh.”

““Me?” The madman pointed to himself. “What do I want? I want a great deal too much, Your Highness. I’ve been bled dry for too long in repayment for my father’s sins and I’m tired of it; tired of being in debt to so cruel a master. But then, you know what that’s like, don’t you?”-King Zaal drew his sword. Again, the southern king laughed. “Are you really going to challenge me?”--“Your Majesty, please—” Kamran moved forward as if to enter the fiery ring, and King Zaal held up a hand to stop him.-“No matter what happens tonight,” King Zaal said to him, “you must remember your duty to this empire.”-“Yes, but—”-“That is all, child,” he said thunderously. “Now you must leave me to fight my own battles.”-“As I’ve already told you, Your Highness.” The madman again. “There will be no battle.” “

“For the entirety of Kamran’s life King Zaal had warned him of Iblees, warned him never to accept an offer from the devil. How, then—“No,” Kamran whispered. “No, it’s not possible—”-“Your dear king should have died years ago,” Cyrus was saying. “But your melancholy prince was too young to lead, was he not? He was still too sad, too scared, too heartbroken over the death of his dear father. So the great, righteous King Zaal made a bargain with the devil to extend his life.”A pause. “Didn’t you, Your Majesty?”-“Enough,” King Zaal said, lowering his eyes. “You need not say more. It would be better for everyone if you simply killed me now.”-Cyrus ignored this. “What he didn’t realize, of course, was that a bargain with the devil was a bloody one. The snakes lengthen his life, yes, but even a serpent needs to eat, does it not?” -Kamran could hardly breathe. (………..)The prince saw a flash of steel. A sword materialized in Cyrus’s hand and Kamran reacted without thinking, launching himself forward—but too late. The Tulanian king had already impaled his willing grandfather straight through the chest. Kamran nearly fell to his knees. He caught his breath and charged, brandishing his sword as he leaped through the searing flames to reach Cyrus, not feeling his flesh as it burned, not hearing the screams of the crowd. Cyrus feinted, then lunged, swinging his sword in a diagonal arc; Kamran met his opponent’s blade with an impact so violent it shuddered through him. With a cry he pushed forward, launching Cyrus back several feet.”

““My fight is not with you, melancholy prince,” Cyrus said, breathing heavily as he took a step back. “You need not die tonight. You need not leave your empire without a sovereign.”-Kamran stilled at that, at the realization that his grandfather was truly dead. That Ardunia was his now. To rule as king. He cried out as he advanced, lunging at Cyrus who parried, then brought his blade down with crushing force. Kamran dropped to one knee to meet this blow, but his sword arm, which had been badly burned by the flames, could not withstand the force for long. His sword clattered to the floor.

Cyrus withdrew, his chest heaving, and lifted his blade above his head to deliver what was no doubt the finishing blow.

Kamran closed his eyes. He made peace with his fate in that moment, accepting that he would die, and that he would die defending his king. His grandfather. “No!” he heard someone scream. Kamran heard the mad dash of boots pounding the marble floors and looked up, startled, hardly daring to believe his eyes. Alizeh was rushing wildly toward him, shoving people aside.-“Don’t!” Kamran shouted. “The fire—” “

““How dare you,” she cried. “You horrible cretin. You useless monster. How could you—”-“How—how did you—” He was still staring at her, gaping. “How did you walk through the fire like that? Why are you not—burning?”-“You despicable, wretched man,” she said angrily. “You know who I am, but you don’t know what I am?”-“No.”

She slapped him, hard, across the face, the potent force of her strength sending him reeling. The southern king reared back, colliding with a column against which he both knocked his head and braced himself. It was a moment before he looked up again, and when he did, Alizeh saw that his mouth was full of blood, which he spit out onto the floor. Then he laughed. -“Damn the devil to hell,” he said softly. “He didn’t tell me you were a Jinn.” -Alizeh startled. “Who?”-“Our mutual friend.”-“Hazan?”-“Hazan?” The copper-headed king laughed at that, wiped a bit of blood from his mouth. “Hazan? Of course not Hazan.” To Kamran, he said, “Pay attention, King, for it seems even your friends have betrayed you.”-Alizeh swung around to meet Kamran’s eyes just in time to see the way he looked at her—the flash of shock, the pain of betrayal—before he shuttered closed, withdrew inward. His eyes went almost inhumanly dark. She wanted to go to him, to explain—“

“Alizeh was gripped then by a violent terror. With agonizing slowness, she felt a tapestry of truth form around her; disparate threads of understanding braiding together to illustrate an answer to a question she’d long misunderstood.

Of course not Hazan.

Hazan had never planned this fate for her. Hazan had been kind and trustworthy; he’d truly cared for her well-being. But this—this was all a cruel trick, was it not? She’d been deceived by the devil himself.

Why?

“Iblees,” she said, her voice fraught with disbelief. “All this time, you have been speaking of the devil. Why? Why did he send you to fetch me? What interest does he have in my life?”-The Tulanian king frowned. “Is it not obvious? He wants you to rule.”-Alizeh heard Kamran’s sharp intake of breath, heard the rumblings of the crowd around them. This conversation was madness. She’d nearly forgotten they had an audience—that all of Ardunia would hear—=Again, the southern king laughed, but louder this time, looking suddenly disturbed. “A Jinn queen to rule the world. Oh, it’s so horribly seditious. The perfect revenge.””

“The Tulanian king called after her. “Wait— Where are you going? We had a deal— Under no circumstances were you allowed to run away—”-“I must,” she said desperately. She knew it sounded crazed even as she said it, for there had never been escape from the devil, never a reprieve from his whispers. Still, she could not help the anguish that overcame her

then. It made her irrational. “I’m sorry,” she cried. “I’m sorry, but I have to leave— I need to find somewhere to hide, somewhere he won’t—” Alizeh felt something catch her in the gut then. Something like a gust of wind; a wing. Her feet began kicking without warning, launching her body upward, into the air. She screamed.-“Alizeh!” Kamran bellowed, rushing up to the edges of his fiery cage.“Alizeh—” “

““This is my dragon,” said the Tulanian king. “You are not allowed to steal my dragon.”-“I didn’t steal it, the creature took— Wait, how did you get here? Can you fly?”-He laughed at that. “Is the mighty empire of Ardunia really so poor in magic that these small tricks impress you?”- “Yes,” she said, blinking. Then, “What is your name?”-“Of all the non sequiturs. Why do you need to know my name?”-“So that I may hate you more informally.”-“Ah. Well, in that case, you may call me Cyrus.”-“Cyrus,” she said. “You insufferable monster. Where on earth are we going?” -Her insults seemed to have no effect on him, for he was still smiling when he said, “Have you really not figured it out?”-“I’m entirely too agitated for these games. Please just tell me what horrible fate awaits me now.”-“Oh, the very worst of fates, I’m sorry to say. We are currently enroute to Tulan.””

““But then”—she frowned—“why did you say that it would be the very worst of fates?”-“Ah. That.” Cyrus looked away then, searched the night sky. “Well. You remember how I said I owed our mutual friend a very large debt?”-“Yes.”-“And that helping you was the only repayment he would accept?”-She swallowed. “Yes.”-“And do you remember how I told you that he wanted you to rule? To be a Jinn queen?” Alizeh nodded. “Well. You have no kingdom,” he said. “No land to lord over. No empire to lead.”-“No,” she said softly. “I don’t.”-“Well, then. You are coming to Tulan,” Cyrus said, taking a quick breath. “To marry me.”-Alizeh gave a sharp cry, and fell off the dragon.

THIS WOVEN KINGDOM(2)-THESE INFINITE THREADS-QUOTES:

“He could not make sense of her. No, he could not make sense of anything.”

“he braced his unsteady hands on the icy floor and wondered, with increasing horror, how many street children had been sacrificed for his grandfather’s serpents. It was an imagining too monstrous.”

“He wished to be someone else. He wished to turn back time. Above all he wished, without a mote of hyperbole, that Cyrus had been allowed to kill him.”

“But to say that this revelation had broken his heart would be to misrepresent the truth; Kamran was not heartbroken, then, no—he was incandescent with rage. He would kill her.”

“Never again would he allow a woman to own his emotions; never again would he be made weak by such base temptations. He swore it then: this monster from the prophecy would die by his hand—he would drive a blade through her heart or die trying. But first, Hazan.”

“Kamran dragged bloody hands down his face. As if each revelation weren’t already more annihilating than the last—he was now blind and deaf, too?”

“ “I thought she broke through the fire to punish me,” Cyrus was saying. “I see only now that she did so to protect you.” There was a flicker in those blue irises, and for a second Cyrus betrayed himself. Beneath his placid surface was something desperate and unrestrained, if not broken. Kamran cataloged the moment as a kind of mercy, for he realized then that the young man was a king weaker than he appeared. “You know her name,” Cyrus said softly. Kamran felt a pulse of trepidation but said nothing. “How,” Cyrus demanded, “did you come to know her name?”-When Kamran finally spoke, his voice was heavy, cold. “I might ask you the same question.”-“Indeed you might,” said Cyrus, who was lifting his sword by inches. “But then, it’s my prerogative to know the name of my bride.”

“The grief of losing his grandfather had only just begun to penetrate, and each subsequent betrayal had broken him not unlike a series of other small deaths, each one a violent injustice, each one demanding a period of mourning. Zaal had been false. Hazan had been false. Alizeh—Alizeh had ruined him.”

““Fascinating,” said the Tulanian king, who then lifted Kamran’s chin with the tip of his sword. Kamran, who could hardly breathe through the torment, still managed to jerk backward, the movement provoking a fresh deluge of suffering. “You appear to be dying.”-“No,” Kamran gasped, bracing his hands against the stone floor.-Cyrus almost laughed. “Unless you intend to follow in your grandfather’s footsteps, I don’t believe you have a choice in the matter.”

““Very well,” the southern king said finally. “Never say I’m not merciful. I’ll make this quick. You will not suffer.”-“And I,” Kamran said, the rasp of his voice like gravel, “will make certain that your torment is never-ending.” A flash of anger and Cyrus’s sword cut through the air in a single, blinding strike, which Kamran met with surprising force, even as his broken body shook in the effort. His legs trembled, his arms screamed in anguish, but Kamran would not capitulate. He’d rather die fighting than surrender—and it was this thought that heated his chest, that generated within him a second life, a terrifying adrenaline. Happily, he would perish in the effort.”

“The southern king rallied without delay, meeting Kamran blow for blow in a series of strikes so precisely choreographed even Kamran was not immune to the beauty of it. There was a rare pleasure in fighting a worthy adversary; in testing, without restraint, the potential of one’s power. But this evidence of Cyrus’s prowess—and lightning-fast reflexes—only cemented Kamran’s certainty that the southern king had earlier allowed Alizeh to overpower him. To the prince, this behavior pointed to one of only two explanations: either she was his superior in their arrangement, or he hadn’t wanted to hurt her. Perhaps both. Maybe they really were betrothed.”

““I feel you should know,” Cyrus said heavily, the fatigue of exertion apparent on his face. “That something is happening to you. To your skin.” This, Kamran ignored. Cyrus was trying to unsettle him, and he would not allow it, not when he was this close to victory.”

“Once the strange article was settled firmly on the tyrant’s head, he walked up to Kamran’s statue and smiled. “There is very little honor left in me, Melancholy King. Certainly not enough to die when I deserve it.” “

“Kamran felt his heart seizing in his chest, his eyes burning with the threat of emotion. No, he wanted to cry. No, no—“I look forward to fighting you again,” said Cyrus softly, tipping his hat. “But first, you’ll have to find me.” Then he vanished.”

“Then again, her uncommon calm was perhaps a result of a far simpler reasoning: Alizeh knew she would be saved.”

“It was a surprise to Alizeh that she was not yet a corpse.”

“All seemed irretrievably lost. Hazan would hang. King Zaal was dead. Kamran—Kamran was in danger. Ardunia’s royal Diviners had been murdered; the palace had been attacked. Kamran had been injured when she left—how would he receive swift treatment without the Diviners? How long would he be left vulnerable before they were able to gather a new quorum of priests and priestesses? Even Alizeh, who’d witnessed the devastation of her own life in the last hours, could see clearly that Kamran had suffered a series of similar travesties.”

““Will you not say something?” said Cyrus, his voice uncharacteristically subdued.-Alizeh felt as if her lips were numb. “I will not.”-“You will not speak?”-“I will not marry you.”Cyrus sighed.”

“This was a habit Alizeh had mastered long ago. Cataloging moments of grace even in the midst of disaster often helped steady her mind; indeed there had been days in her life so bleak that Alizeh had resorted to counting her teeth if only to prove she still owned something of value.”

““Fling yourself into the sky as many times as you like. There will be no escape. I will not allow you to die.”-“Do you speak to all young women with such ardent affection?” Alizeh asked steadily, even as her bones shook with cold. “If I swoon and fall off the dragon again, you will have only yourself to blame.”-Cyrus made a sound, something that was almost a laugh, and which quickly evaporated. “Your first attempt has already cost us precious minutes. Should you insist upon throwing yourself over and over you will only put us behind schedule and irritate my dragon, which she doesn’t deserve. It’s well past her bedtime; you need not torture her.”-“Careful now,” Alizeh said to him. “You’re in grave danger of suggesting you might care about this dragon.”-Cyrus sighed, looked away. “And you appear to be in grave danger of freezing to death.”-“I am not,” she lied. Without a word he removed his heavy, unadorned black coat—but as he leaned forward to drape it over her shoulders, Alizeh stayed the gesture with a single hand.“If you think,” she said carefully, “that I will ever accept an article of clothing from you again—then you, sir, are deluded.”-(..)She felt a spark of heat near her sternum just as surprise widened her eyes. “A gentleman? Do you often confuse yourself for such a man?”-“With what ease you insult me,” he said, his eyes mocking. “Were you anyone else, I’d have you executed.”-“Goodness, more poetry. Are these tender declarations meant to endear you to me?”-He fought a smile at that, running a hand through his hair as he looked up at the stars. “Tell me—is it too much to hope for our future that you will not make it a habit of slapping me in the face?”-“Yes.”-“I see. Then married life will be exactly as I imagined.” “

““Do let us cast aside decorum, then. I promise to never again endeavor to be a gentleman in your presence.”-“Is there any point, sir, in setting a goal for an accomplishment already achieved?””

“For all the darkness that enveloped them, there was a great deal of illumination, too. She could see Cyrus quite plainly in the glaze of starlight, the luster of the moon. It could not be denied: his was an objectively striking face, so much so that Alizeh could not decide whether it was the wicked copper of his hair or the piercing blue of his eyes that proved his greatest asset. Then again, she did not care to decide, for not only was she unmoved by his beauty, she nursed a private hope that, given the right opportunity, she might be able to kill him.“That dress was meant to protect you,” Cyrus said bitterly. “I wasn’t expecting you to set it on fire. Twice.””

“that Hazan and Cyrus had not worked in tandem to assist her—which meant that Cyrus need never know that she possessed the powerful object. No matter the horrors ahead, at least she would always know whether he lied.”

“It was Hazan who’d brought hope back into her life, whose existence inspired her to imagine an end to the wretchedness of her days. Hazan was proof that there remained any Jinn who still searched for her, believed in her. Alizeh had not known his true identity—that he was in fact a minister to the crown, that he worked alongside the prince every day. He’d risked his life in the attempt to transport Alizeh to safety, and he would pay the price for it now. It was a sacrifice she would never forget.”

“That dress was meant to hide you from any who wished you harm; instead, you destroyed it, exposing in the process both your identity and your undergarments to all of Ardunian royalty. You must be well-pleased with yourself.”-“I beg your pardon?” Alizeh looked up at him in horror. “My undergarments?”-“Surely you possess a pair of eyes,” he said, staring intently at her face.“You are practically naked.”-“How dare you.” “

“She was unable to meet his eyes when she confessed quietly: “I am always suffering. The frost lives with me much like an unwanted limb; it does not diminish. I seldom dwell on it.”-“Then the frost is a real, lived experience?” Cyrus seemed to frown as he spoke. “I’ve heard mention of it, of course, but I’d assumed it was meant to be a poetic turn of phrase.”She’d forgotten: Cyrus had known only a little of her heritage.”

“Alizeh touched trembling fingers to her lips. “You did kill him, didn’t you?”-“I see we’re both eager for explanations as concerns the nascent king of Ardunia.”-“You astonish me,” she whispered. “First you entrap me in this poisonous scheme, then you demand an admission of my private thoughts, as if you have any right to my honesty—”-“As your betrothed, I have a right to know of your history.”-“We are not betrothed—” “

“He shook his head. “My, but it must be exhausting to be a narcissist.”-Alizeh laughed at that, the sound bordering on hysterical. “You accuse me of narcissism when your every action has been in the interest of your own protection—the lives of others be damned?”-“And you,” he said, tilting his head at her. “So preoccupied with your own personal dramas it never once occurred to you to ask why I might be yoked to such a despicable master—””

“He turned to face her. “Why do you continue to act as if I had a choice?” Alizeh drew back, but Cyrus was undaunted. He closed the inches between them, his glittering eyes assessing her

face now with a renewed fervor. “Do I appear to you a free man boasting of free will? Or perhaps you thought that, after lowering myself to execute the obscene demands of the devil himself, I might take one look at your wide, doe-like eyes and experience a change of heart?””

““Yes,” he said softly, his gaze dropping, briefly, to her mouth. “You are well aware of your beauty, I think. Much as I am well aware of the maneuvers of the devil, and the weakness of human flesh. You think me so ignorant of his schemes? From the very moment I saw you I suspected his game—I knew he’d sent you to me, specifically, to torture me—as if I might be so tempted by the sight of you that I would bend in but a moment to your wishes, abandoning in the process an oath I signed with my soul, ensuring I am bound to him forevermore. No. I will not be moved by you— and you have underestimated me if you think I will succumb to your charms.”-“Sir, I fear you have lost your mind,” Alizeh said, her heart racing wildly in her chest. “You misjudge me terribly—”-“And you take me for a fool,” he said angrily, the movement in his throat briefly distracting her. “This story is both odious and familiar, and I already know how it ends; indeed, I have already seen the consequences of your seductions. Just tonight you snapped in half the spine of one sovereign. I will not be the next.”-“What on earth can you mean?” she breathed, panic intensifying. “You sentence me for crimes I wouldn’t even know how to commit—”-He leaned in, so close she could feel his whisper against her lips as he spoke. “Try to weaponize those eyes against me again and I will have them permanently sewn shut.” “

““If you wish to ingest poison after we exchange our vows, I will not stand in your way. But I will marry you,” he said sharply, “for you do not know what I stand to lose if this arrangement goes awry. You cannot even begin to imagine. So spare me your tears. You have confused me for your melancholy king, and you will suffer for the delusion.”

““I truly hate you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “With my whole heart, I hate you.”-Cyrus held her gaze for what seemed a brutally long time before he finally tore away. He said nothing.”

“There was too much at stake; already there would be a week of mourning before Kamran could be crowned king in an elaborate ceremony, after which he would finally carry out his grandfather’s most impassioned command and choose a damn bride—any bride—and only then, only when that grim business was sorted could he move on to the most important task, which was to officially declare war against Tulan. He would avenge both his father and his grandfather. He would have Cyrus’s head. He would bring Tulan to its knees. And Alizeh—No. He would not think of her now; not when the very thought of her tore open fresh wounds inside him. He could not reconcile so many horrors at once.First, he would have to cease being stone.”

“Perhaps if Hazan hadn’t proven an unfaithful bastard, he might’ve already issued such a summons; doubtless Hazan would’ve handled every detail of this horrific night with aplomb, stepping gingerly over pools of blood only to usher home the affronted nobles with a smile. Even Kamran, who intended to kill his former minister, could acknowledge this truth—and experienced at the thought a resulting pang in his chest. Nevertheless, Kamran would not allow himself to dwell on Hazan’s betrayal; there was no point, and there was no time.”

“It was then—in an extraordinary moment—that the impending king of Ardunia realized he wanted his mother. She had been here.(..)Soon, she’d said, I will be all you have left in this palace. You will walk the halls, friendless and alone, and you will search for me then. You will want your mother only when all else is lost, and I do not promise to be easily found. She’d been wrong on one important count—Kamran could not at the moment walk the halls of this castle—but if he survived the night, there might be time yet for that, too. How easily Kamran had dismissed her warning.”

“The truth of his situation bore down on him with a chilling awareness: He had no one.”

“The dagger had belonged to his mother. Unsuccessfully, he scanned the room for her face, increasingly perplexed by her actions. His mother had saved him. Why, then, had she abandoned—Kamran went deathly still. It was not magic this time, but fear that paralyzed him anew, for he’d glimpsed his reflection in a bank of shattered mirrors gracing an adjacent wall. Dumbstruck, he lifted an unsteady hand to his chin, his cheek, the delicate lid of one eye.”

“Kamran studied the sea of nobles kneeling before him with a vague disgust. Even now their duplicity was on display; these sycophants bowed without a word, motionless as glass even as their uncrowned king failed to stand upright, his broken body bleeding. They did not rush to his side, call for a surgeon, order a litter to carry him to safety—No, they did not seem to care that he was dying.And Kamran was indeed dying.”

““Sire?” Kamran’s heart seized. His every instinct screamed at him to pull himself upright, but his limbs would not obey. He could only lay there, his chest cratering, until without warning his line of sight was crowded by a mop of red curls hanging over a cowed, freckled face. Omid Shekarzadeh, the street urchin whose attempted thievery had set in motion every recent, horrific turn of Kamran’s life, stared straight into his eyes.-“You,” Kamran managed to gasp.(..)-“I think they knew, sire,” Omid said in Feshtoon. “The Diviners. I think they knew what was going to happen. I think they knew they were going to be murdered.”(..)-“They gave it to me after I began to recover,” the boy said quietly. “Told me to keep it with me always, that I’d know when to use it.” He swallowed. “I thought they gave it to me to save myself in the future, see. I didn’t realize until just now that maybe I wasn’t supposed to use it on myself.”-“No,” Kamran said again, this time sharply. He was seeing stars, bright lights sparking and fading behind his eyes. “If the Diviners blessed you with such a gift”—he wheezed—“you should not— You cannot give it away—”-“I’ll do as I please,” said Omid, anger edging into his voice. “You saved my life, sire. Now it’s my turn to save yours.” “

“She turned to her companion for an explanation but was brought up short by the sight of him. Cyrus sat beside her with a palpable discomfort made apparent in the unnatural stiffness of his body: head up, shoulders back, spine straight. His eyes were fixed firmly ahead, his hair rippling in the wind, longer strands occasionally obscuring his vision—and still he did not move. It was impossible to know what tormented him the most, and Alizeh could not bring herself to care.”

““Enough,” he said sharply. “I don’t welcome your analysis. Cease studying me.”-Something bitter prompted her to say, “You are not my master.”-Cyrus turned at once to look at her, staring into her eyes with an intensity that bordered on alarming. “Do you aspire to be mine?”This question was so shocking, Alizeh drew back in response. Cyrus leaned in. “Relinquish the dream,” he said softly. “You have no hope of mastering me.”-Alizeh tensed. “I could kill you right now.”-He only looked at her, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Go on, then,” he said. “Kill me. I will not intervene.”-Her eyes narrowed. “I do not dispose of that which is still useful to me.”-“Useful? Is that what you’ve decided I am?” He almost laughed. “And do you lie to yourself often?””

“Alizeh laughed quietly as she pressed a finger to the wind, felt the current curl under her touch. “The sky, too, is soft,” she said. “Yet all who fall into its arms will perish.”-She felt him stiffen beside her. “You,” he said finally, “are not who I expected.” “

“It was as if she’d been returned home. This dream was crudely interrupted by an ungentlemanly word released by a familiar voice; Cyrus’s arms came suddenly around her waist, too easily plucking her off the dragon’s neck and planting her back onto their shared seat, the patterned rug beneath them now damp with ocean spray. He drew away from her at once.“Good Lord,” he said, shaking out his hands. “You’re soaking wet. Why are you acting as if you’ve never seen water before?” -Alizeh hardly heard him. She was too overcome with exhilaration and as a result did not think before she smiled at Cyrus, turning the full force of her joy in his direction, eyes squinting, cheeks dimpling, chest heaving with excitement.-Cyrus went inhumanly still, then turned sharply away.“You act as if you’ve never met a Jinn before,” Alizeh said breathlessly.“I love the water. I live for it.”-“On the contrary,” he said flatly, still avoiding the sight of her. “I’ve met thousands of Jinn, and I’ve never seen a single one of them nearly fling themselves into the ocean.” “

“Alizeh thought to search for Cyrus then, and found him tending to the dragon, first dropping a massive bucket of water at the creature’s feet, then procuring from nowhere a single apple, which he polished against his shirt before holding under the animal’s nose. The beast opened its mouth with a pitiful whine, curls of smoke puffing from its nostrils before it snatched, in a terrifying bite, the offering from Cyrus’s open hand. Alizeh thought she might’ve seen the demented king smile.”

“She reminded herself to take comfort, as she always had, in the strength she carried in her body, in her mind, in the faith she’d always had in herself. She was not stupid enough to think she could find her way to safety in her current state—bedraggled, destitute, and ignorant of this foreign landscape —nor was she delusional enough to trust anyone she might encounter in Tulan. Instead, she thought she might take a day or two to assess her new circumstances, bide her time until she could form a plan. Besting Cyrus, at least, would be the easier task—for she knew he was but a pawn in this scheme. It was Iblees she’d need to outmaneuver.”

“Kamran had been styled in accordance with Ardunian tradition; he wore varying shades of dark blue, a color only the heir to a newly vacated throne might wear in mourning, symbolizing to all the empire that though they grieved what was lost, they were not without hope. A leader still lived. Or at least clung to life, according to the morning’s headlines.”

“He felt he could either say nothing, or scream. The choice seemed clear.”

“That Kamran owned these articles at all pointed directly to his mother; she alone would’ve had the foresight to order such garments, the details of which would’ve been arranged months ago. Never would it have occurred to the prince to prepare his wardrobe in anticipation of the king’s demise—which reminded him not only of his mother’s conspicuous disappearance, but of how very alone he was in the world now.”

“SETAR—The Daftar declares with profound regret and confusion the brutal murder of King Zaal. It was announced from the royal ball last evening, at approximately 11:43, that the young sovereign of Tulan, King Cyrus of Nara, slaughtered His Royal Highness without contest. It has been widely reported by attendees that the king was crudely exposed in the moments before death, leaving unchallenged an accusation that he’d sacrificed the lives of countless orphans to feed a dark magic keeping him unnaturally alive.(…..)“The prince fought valiantly, but he was badly burned. We all thought he was dead until he screamed at us to go home.”(..)Most horrifying, though, were the inches dedicated to Cyrus’s altercation with Miss Huda, the latter having apparently found time to give an interview to the press, describing in excruciating detail all that she knew of Alizeh, and taking care to add that she’d heard the southern king refer to Alizeh as “Your Majesty,” leading Miss Huda to speculate on record that perhaps the two had been betrothed for some time. Kamran wanted to set it all on fire.”

“Never had the prince been particularly self-admiring, but neither had he been willfully blind. It was but a simple fact that he’d been a royal who boasted more than just a title; a single glance around any room was enough to confirm that Kamran possessed an uncommon beauty, that he was orders of magnitude more handsome than his peers and elders. Too, Kamran had been well-fed and well-formed; he’d been wielding swords, riding horses, and training in full battle armor since childhood. He was as a result honed to something resembling perfection—so much so that he’d in fact never been much impressed with his reflection, for he’d grown accustomed to the splendor of his face and body. Now, he hardly recognized himself. There still remained the template of a handsome young man: his powerful body still stood tall and strong, his olive skin still gleamed, his dark hair remained thick and lustrous. But upon the foundations of hisexquisite beauty now lay a grisly veneer. Gone was the gloss of a charming, noble prince; Kamran looked more like someone who might roast children on a spit, set fire to a village in the dead of night, feast upon the entrails of his enemies. Slowly, the prince lifted his ruined hand to his ruined face.”

“Never before had this magic been known to mutate. Now the burnished gold stripe had all but shattered along his skin, glowing branches snaking tremulously up the left side of his body, the glimmering veins growing thinner as they braced the side of his neck, his cheek, and finally pierced straight through his left eye, rendering his iris an inhuman color. He now possessed one dark eye and one the exact color of gilt, the sight so disorienting it cast doubt upon the original magic itself, which appeared, by all accounts, to be rejecting him.”

“Grief, exhaustion, betrayal—he couldn’t decide which was the worst aggressor.”

“He was running out of time. He could not explain why he was so sure of this fact; he could cobble together only feeling and memory as evidence: a sea of nobles speaking callously about his paralyzed body; Zahhak pronouncing his death without substantiation; the lack of action proceeding his reanimation.”

“There was one week before he could be crowned king. One week, during which he knew he’d be fighting the machinations of his own officials in addition to all else—and he intended to devote his days to righting the disasters that had befallen his home, his throne, his life itself. But first, there was a lingering matter to address. He had to kill Hazan.”

“A terrifying suspicion had risen up inside her, but even as Alizeh glimpsed the diadem atop the woman’s head, she reasoned with herself that she might be wrong—that the lady drawing toward her now could be anyone, and certainly wouldn’t be—

“Mother, wait—”

Alizeh’s body seized at the sound of Cyrus’s voice, panic causing her heart to pound furiously in her chest. Cyrus came crashing between them—“

““I am Sarra. I can’t tell you how happy I am you’ve finally agreed to come.”-Alizeh blinked, shock rendering her silent a moment before she was able to falter, “I— That I agreed to come?”- Sarra’s smile deepened. “I’ve been so anxious to meet the young woman who is to become my daughter-in-law. Cyrus has talked of little else these last few months, but he’s kept the details such a secret I was beginning to worry you weren’t real.”-The nosta awoke without warning against Alizeh’s chest, heat flaring across her skin and provoking her heart to beat harder. Very slowly, Alizeh turned to look at Cyrus, who was now staring determinedly into the distance. She all but bore holes into his head with her eyes, and he would not face her. Still staring at the king, Alizeh said angrily: “Cyrus has talked about me? For months?” Finally, he did look at her—his eyes narrowed in warning. This only made her angrier.”“Odd, isn’t it,” Alizeh went on, “that he’s known about me all this time and yet”—she glanced at Sarra—“did you know, I only met him for the first time tonight?” She hesitated, then frowned at the sun. “Or I suppose it was last night. Regardless, I can’t help but wonder why he never bothered to introduce himself any earlier—or even to ask whether I wanted to be here before tricking me into coming—”-“You must be very tired,” said Cyrus flatly. “This is hardly the time—”-“On the contrary,” Alizeh said, meeting his eyes with a fire that would’ve made a weaker man flinch. “I find that this is the perfect time to tell your mother that I have absolutely no intention of becoming your wife—”-Sarra laughed loudly and without warning, the hollow, inauthentic sound drawing Alizeh’s attention at once. The lady had not let go of her hands. There was something desperate about the way Sarra squeezed Alizeh’s fingers now—with a pressure that bordered on painful—that screamed all manner of things unspoken. Alizeh couldn’t be sure, but as she blinked up into the woman’s strained eyes she was struck by a vague suspicion that Sarra was afraid. Of what, she didn’t know.-“You and I will get on just fine,” the lady said urgently, her focus still locked on Alizeh’s face. “I’ve been so eager to meet you, and now I know that we are to be the best of friends.”-Again, the nosta flashed hot, and Alizeh went a bit slack with astonishment. Very well, then..”

““Your son,” she said, carefully enunciating each word, “is a liar. A scoundrel. And a criminal. Just earlier he murdered the king of Ardunia, no doubt ensuring your empires will soon go to war. And while I do not mourn the loss of the Ardunian king, I do mourn the countless innocent lives that will soon be lost as a result of your son’s stupid decisions. In the short time I’ve spent in his excruciating company I’ve already been exposed to his rudeness, his cruelty, and his disgusting arrogance, and if I’d not decided he might prove useful to me in the short term, I would’ve killed him already. You, on the other hand, strike me as quite kind, but let me be clear: I have absolutely no intention of becoming your daughter-in-law, nor would I recommend leaving me alone with your son, who I’m liable to murder without warning—”-“So much to discuss!” Sarra cried, gripping Alizeh’s hands now with a fervor she found frightening. The woman beamed at her, a sheen of emotion glazing her eyes as she exuded what could only be described as unadulterated joy—so much so that Alizeh was forced to wonder, in a moment of panic, whether Sarra might not be as demented as her own son. “What a delight you are,” the lady said gently, a single tear tracking a clean path down her cheek. “What happy conversations we’re sure to have.”Alizeh blanched. “All that matters is that you’re here,” Sarra said softly, never relinquishing Alizeh’s hands, not even to wipe her eyes. “You’re finally here, and now all will be well.” Something was wrong, upside down. Wasn’t it?”

“Steeling herself, she said softly: “Very well.” Cyrus’s gaze sharpened at that, his eyes betraying a flicker of surprise. With a small cry of pleasure, Sarra finally released Alizeh’s hands, clapping her own together in delight. Alizeh drew back at once. The southern king followed, stepping cautiously toward her, watching Alizeh with the wariness of a hunter approaching a rabid wolf.- “You will come willingly?” he asked, his brows drawing together. “You will marry me without protest?”-They were close enough then that Alizeh could touch him had she wanted to. She could lift a finger to the silky copper lock curling across his forehead, his golden skin gleaming in the reflected light. His blue eyes were luminescent and somehow frigid, and for the briefest moment Alizeh thought she sensed in him what she still carried within herself—A vast, bottomless grief. She stood on tiptoe, asking with her body that he come closer—which he did, drawing toward her then without seeming to realize what he’d done, not until she nearly grazed the shell of his ear with her lips when she whispered, for all the world as if they were playful lovers, “Choose your weapon, sire.”-Cyrus drew back so suddenly he nearly stumbled, newborn anger flaring to life between them. His chest heaving, his jaw clenched, he looked as if he might implode with fury.-“This is terribly inconvenient for me,” she said, drawing her shoulders back, planting her feet firmly beneath her. “But I’ll have to kill you now.” Alizeh heard Sarra laugh.”

“Once again, his mind drifted to Hazan. Hazan, upon whom he’d always relied to keep him abreast of precisely such things; who’d always been there to correct and inform and guide him. Surely it had not all been a lie? No, Kamran was too perceptive. He trusted his own instincts too much to believe such a feat was even possible. Hazan’s betrayal had to have been a recent development. What Kamran couldn’t understand was why. (…..)Hazan was shackled in the dungeons waiting to die, and Kamran wanted to get the hateful business over with as soon as possible, for he was plagued by an uneasiness that made him feel ill. In an honest moment he might even admit that he did not, in fact, desire to kill the only person he’d ever called a friend, and if he failed to execute the traitor straightaway, he feared he’d lose the will to do it at all.”

““Surely you have other things to do,” said Kamran, cutting him off for the second time. “As I recall, I gave you the list myself.” More lunacy from the uncrowned king: Kamran had made Omid— former street rat, aged twelve—his new home minister.”

“In Kamran’s opinion, the former street child had proven himself fully capable of the role Hazan had failed to perform, and it did not matter to him that the boy was only twelve. When Kamran was twelve he might’ve been crowned king of Ardunia, if only his elderly grandfather—aged well over a century at the time—hadn’t made a bargain with the devil to live longer. He felt certain that Omid, too, could rise to this lesser occasion.”

“Kamran glanced at the child. “Hazan is often angry.”-“I don’t think so, sire. I never seen him angry. Certainly never seen him like this.”-“You never knew him.”-Omid boggled. “But I did. He was the one who gave me the tickets to the—”-“Enough.”

““But does he really have to hang right away?” Omid pressed on, undaunted. “Without even a trial? You haven’t asked him a single question—you’re just going to kill him because of something King Cyrus said, and we hate King Cyrus, sire, so it doesn’t really seem fair to take such a man at his word—”-Kamran came to a sudden stop, his cape whipping around his chest as he turned, looking Omid in the eye. “It is precisely because I am fair,” he said sharply, “that I intend to put Hazan out of his misery this morning.”-Omid frowned. “Is that meant to be a joke, sire?”-“Far from it. I am teaching you something vital.” He studied Omid a moment, noting for the first time that the boy looked ridiculous in the serviceable, oversized clothes he’d been given by the Diviners. Omid would need a new wardrobe if he were to represent the crown in such a capacity.“Confine a guilty man to a dungeon with only the company of his own conscience,” he said quietly, “and you prolong his torture. It is because I care that I intend to be merciful now.”-“But, sire,” Omid said, his frown deepening. “Can you be merciful later? I came to tell you that Miss Huda is here, and she’s hoping to speak with you without delay. You remember Miss Huda, don’t you, sire?”-Kamran bristled at the mere mention of the young woman’s name, revulsion raising bile in his gut.”

““Do I remember?” he asked. “Do I remember the events of a few hours ago? Do I remember witnessing my grandfather’s murder, my minister’s deflection, the destruction of my home, the disfiguration of my body?” He almost laughed. “Goodness, but I pray for your sake that you are not yourself as stupid as the questions you ask, otherwise this arrangement will see its end before sundown.”-Omid flushed scarlet. “I have no interest in talking to anyone who might divulge sensitive intelligence to a newspaper before offering to share such knowledge with the crown. Tell her to go home.”-“But, sire,” Omid insisted, still flushing past his hairline, “she says she has a bag. A carpet bag that belonged to Miss Alizeh. She says that Alizeh accidentally left her belongings at Follad Place, and that you might want to go through them, see, on account of there might be something of interest—”-Kamran had frozen in place.”

““I said choose your weapon,” Alizeh repeated angrily. Still, Cyrus did not move.- “And you? From where will you procure a weapon of your own?”-“I do not require one.”-He actually laughed at that, a dry sound that inspired no change to his stony expression. “Of all the trials I’ve recently endured,” he said, turning his face up to the sky. “You are by far the most excruciating.”-“I’m pleased to hear it.”-“It’s not a compliment,” he said with some heat, meeting her eyes again. “And I will not fight you.”-“Then let me go.”-He made a small bow, a faint gesture with his hand. “Go.”-Alizeh stared at him a beat, then spun around, taking in the landscape to which he’d gestured, the sights she’d already seen: the cliffs, the waterfalls, the devastating drop to the river below. He was all but suggesting she die to escape him.

Heavens, but she was dealing with a madman.

Cyrus shook his head at her, almost smiled. “Is the fall not worth your freedom?”-Her anger only intensified. “You are despicable.”-“And you are the worst coward,” he said. “Even while you pretend at bravery.”-“How dare you,” she said, her fists clenching. “How dare you slander my person when you know nothing about me—”-“A hypocrite, too, how divine,” he said lazily. “Meanwhile, I was forced to listen to you disparage me at length in front of my own mother, and still I managed not to take up arms against you.”-“Perhaps because you found it difficult to disagree with my assessment of your character.”-“Character?” He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, yes, do let’s discuss your character. You’ve been threatening to kill me for hours—despite having had ample opportunity to do so—and now you’re picking a fight when you know full well that I won’t lift a finger against you—that I can’t, even if I’d love nothing more than to see your smart mouth shut forever.You think you’re so cunning,” he said, stepping toward her now, “but these last few hours have already taught me everything I need to know about your character.”-Alizeh wanted to throttle him. “Choose your weapon,””

“Cyrus was confusing her senses. He no longer wore a coat, for the article he’d lent her earlier had been tossed into turbulent skies, and in fighting her strength now he was only pressing himself more firmly into her hands, the thin sweater he wore doing little to mask the firm musculature of his body, the soft strength of his chest. The distracting heat and sensation of him was proving altogether too intimate an experience. She did not want to know him like this. “What are you doing?” she practically gasped. “I told you to choose—” Unexpectedly, Cyrus smiled. For the first time since she’d met the reprobate, he truly smiled. He grinned like a boy, not a man, the infinitesimal flash of his white teeth rendering him almost childlike, softening him into something more mischievous than vengeful. The sight was distracting enough that she failed to notice her hands had fallen from his chest, that his hands had wasted no time landing at her waist. He gripped her firmly, stepping so close their bodies nearly aligned in all the wrong places; he was crowding her with his heat, with his height, with his unrelenting stare. She could hardly fuse together the wires in her brain; she was too tired, too unaccustomed to such closeness, too overwhelmed by the scent of him, the stubble along his jaw, the strength she felt in his hands, on her hips, his fingers sinking into her flesh. It was but a moment that she froze, confusion costing her the opportunity to regroup, and she knew two things then with absolute certainty: First, that she had failed.

Second, that he had lied.

How had the nosta failed to sense this? He was going to kill her. He was laughing when he lifted her off her feet, laughing when, without warning, he tossed her off the cliff.

Alizeh screamed.

“I choose dragons,” he called after her.

Her arms and legs pinwheeled as she fell backward into the sky, hands fumbling in vain for purchase as she cried out in fear, in rage, plummeting all the while from a terrible height for the third time in less than a day. She didn’t understand why this kept happening to her.”

“Oh, Alizeh was tired.

Tired of feeling she had no control over her life, tired of being manipulated by the devil, tired of living in fear, tired of fear itself. The dark truth she seldom revealed even to herself was that sometimes she wanted nothing more than to break, to be weak, to tear off her armor and give in.

How long would she be forced to fight for her life? More important: Was her life really worth so much effort?

It troubled her that she had no answer.”

“It was with great bitterness that she realized she’d just experienced Cyrus’s idea of a joke. She wondered why she didn’t hear him then, why the degenerate did not show himself, applaud himself for a job well done. She wondered, as she forced herself up, nearly biting through her tongue to keep from crying out, what Sarra would think of this performance of her son’s affection. Alizeh prepared herself to ask, swinging around tipsily for a glimpse of her captors—when she realized she was alone. The dragon had deposited her somewhere new.”

“Alizeh had collected enough visual information by then to deduce she’d been deposited somewhere high up in the castle, and she couldn’t help but wonder whether this secluded, heavenly garden was meant to be hers. Surely Cyrus had meant to toss her in a dungeon instead?”

“Massive windows had been thrown open to let in the light, the welcome breeze ruffling the sheets of an enormous bed that sat, silky and decadent, in the center of everything, quilts folded down in invitation. Alizeh walked through it all as if in a daze. Was this meant to be hers? If this was meant to be hers, she thought she could understand why someone might make a deal with the devil. For the space of a single moment, something like this might seem worthwhile.

But then, there was more.

There were more rooms beyond this one: an opulent sitting room; separate rooms for the bath and toilet; a small courtyard with a dining table—It was only as Alizeh wound her way through these spaces that she realized she’d been delivered here in reverse.”

“The first two seemed impossible in her current state; she didn’t think she’d survive the time it would take to draw a bath, and neither did she know where to find a change of clothes. But if she could only make her way back to the bed, she might yet accomplish the third.”

“Without thinking she patted herself down, reaching for pockets that did not exist, looking about herself for a luggage she no longer owned. With a terrible fright, Alizeh froze. Comprehension dawned by aching degrees, dread flooding her body as memories filled her head, the chaos of the last twelve hours trying desperately to sort itself into chronological order. Alizeh clapped a hand over her mouth. Only then did she realize where she’d left her carpet bag.”

““Your face,” she gasped.-“Thank you for the bag. You may go.”-“But what happened to your face?” she insisted, astonishing him with her rudeness. “Was it that terrible king? Did he do this to y—”-“Miss Huda,” he said, jaw tensing, “if you would please—”-“Oh but never fear, sire, you are still quite desperately handsome,” she assured him in a breathless rush, her hands fluttering about her waist. “I didn’t mean to imply you’d lost your appeal, only that you’ve a much more tragic look about you now, something some might even consider more attractive—depending, of course, on their individual tastes, but then I—”-“Miss Huda.” (…..)-“Are you feeling ill, Miss Huda? What business might I have with your wardrobe?”-She went slack a moment, still as a pillar of salt before she laughed in a sudden, terrible burst, clutching a hand to her chest as she assured him, with not a small bit of hysteria, that she did not think he would have any business with her wardrobe, that she was only referring to the unfinished garment still stuffed into the carpet bag, and “which I’d dearly love to have returned, sire, for the gown is still pinned quite neatly in all the right places, and I think I might be able to convince my maid to finish the job Alizeh had started—”Kamran flinched.”

““When did she find time to conspire with the Tulanian king?”The spell broke.-Miss Huda nodded, her eyes lit now with a new fervor. “That’s just it, sire. She—that is, the young woman I shall not name—could not have conspired with him. She didn’t even know who he was.”(..)Miss Huda shook her head vigorously. “I was there the first time they met—I saw the way the two looked at each other, and they were strangers.”-“Where was this?”-“In my room, sire, the night of the ball. Aliz— That is, she was meant to have finished the aforementioned gown—which you will discover buried in her luggage—ahead of the festivities, but had come to me that evening in a bit of a panic, claiming she could not complete the job in time. Only after I pressed did she admit she was running for her life from some unnamed entity—shortly after which the southern king all but magically appeared in my room, and, Your Highness, she hadn’t the faintest idea who he was. Neither of us did. He wouldn’t even tell us his name; he insisted she call him Nothing—””

““I do question it, sire— Forgive me, but I do question it, for I spent many hours in her presence and I am unconvinced she is, as you imply, an evil young woman. In fact, I am convinced of quite the opposite, for she was terribly kind to me; she all but offered to defend me with her life, sire, even in the midst of her own life-threatening trials, which I’m sorry to say is a generosity no other person has bestowed upon me, and I cannot now in good conscience abandon her, not when I fear she might be in great danger, and if there’s any chance of finding her, I’d love to be able to assist—”-“Your inconstancy is maddening,” Kamran cried, no longer able to control his anger. “First you out her to the papers, then you demand to save her? Have I not made it clear that she is a traitor to this empire?””

“You have been exploited, Miss Huda. Accept this fact. She is not your friend.”-This last line seemed to strike Miss Huda with a powerful force, for she  took a step back, trembling a little as she looked away. She met the prince’s eyes only briefly before averting her gaze again, her own eyes glinting with emotion.-“Quite right,” she whispered. “Yes, I hear it now—I hear how it sounds when I say it aloud. What reason would she have to show me kindness if not to mock and abuse me? It would certainly align more closely with all my other experiences. I am hard-pressed, you know”—she looked up, attempted a laugh—“to find friends among my peers. I was perhaps too eager to believe she meant the kind things she’d said to me. Forgive me, sire, I am terribly stupid.”-Kamran did not know what to do with this watery display. He felt frozen in the face of it, uncertain what to do with his hands, where to rest his eyes. He thought perhaps he should deny the unkindness she’d leveled against herself—but he, too, thought Miss Huda was terribly stupid.”

“Its tiny body ping-ponged off nearly every surface before it suddenly bopped Kamran in the forehead, triggering a flash of memory from the night before.Hazan.”

““Sire?” said Miss Huda, her brows furrowed in dismay. “Are you quite all right?”-But Kamran did not hear her.“That lying bastard,” he said softly.”

““My dear, we haven’t much time, and I must speak with you.” Another stroke of a soft hand, this time against her cheek, and Alizeh nearly drifted off all over again. She was groggy and disoriented and desperately did not want to wake. She wanted to lie here forever, or at least until the sun had cooked her frozen flesh evenly.-“No,” she croaked.-There was the sound of a soft laugh. “I know you’re very tired, my dear, but so long as Cyrus thinks you’re sleeping, he’ll not suspect us of conspiring. You must wake, darling, for I must speak to you quickly.” “

““He really is quite the monster, isn’t he?” said Sarra quietly.-Startled, Alizeh looked up at the woman. “Who?”-“My son,” she said, her expression grim even as she smiled. “He’s an unforgivable brute.”Even as the nosta warmed, it felt like a trap.”

““Naturally, I had thousands of questions, but his answers were bloodless. He told me your age, that you resided up north. He said that you’d been orphaned but that you were descended from a forgotten royal line, insisting you had noble blood despite lacking a proper upbringing, and that you might present as a bit uncivilized as a result of your incomplete education—”-Alizeh’s eyes widened in outrage. “I beg your pardon—”-“Oh, I wouldn’t take it to heart, my dear,” Sarra said, a wry smile curving her lips. “It’s clear to me that you’re well in possession of your faculties. Then again”—her eyes glittered with mirth—“you did make a rather unorthodox first impression, and I found I was grateful for the warning. Had I not been prepared to meet with a rather wild young woman, I might’ve been too shocked to proceed.””

“Alizeh blinked at the woman, stunned. Sarra had not lied once. “I take it he didn’t mention, then, that he was being ordered to marry me by decree of Iblees himself.”-“Of course he did,” said Sarra, cutting off the water.”

“Sarra laughed. “I never know everything.”-“But you know the details of your son’s treachery—that he’s determined to marry me against both his will and mine, all in the interest of fulfilling some terrible debt owed to Iblees? You know this and yet—you do not seem to care.”-Sarra’s voice took on an eerie stillness when she said, quietly, “It’s not that I do not care. It’s that I no longer believe him. For the last several months, my son has blamed all his bad decisions on the devil. Never does he take accountability for his actions. He’s always begging me to understand that he has no choice—even as he makes demands of me, of his own people—he insists he does so only because he’s shackled against his will.”-“But”—Alizeh frowned, her eyes still closed—“he confides in you, then? He comes to you with the truth? I’d not expected so tyrannical a young man to seek out his mother’s counsel.”-Again, Sarra laughed darkly. “He does not seek out my counsel. He only unburdens himself in what I have discovered to be the deluded pursuit of my absolution. He is still young and foolish enough to think that confiding in me will earn him my compassion, but I’ve become inured to his self-pity. Of course I tried,” she said with a sigh. “I tried, initially, to guide him, but I learned quickly enough that he only talks—and never listens. I’ve had to accept that I no longer have any influence over him; that in fact no one does. He might blame Iblees, but in the end Cyrus acts as he wishes; it is clear enough that we are all but pawns in his schemes.””

““One might counter,” Sarra said sharply, “that the best course of action would’ve been to never make a deal with the devil in the first place. Iblees approaches every newly crowned sovereign with the bait of a disadvantageous bargain; Cyrus has known this his whole life, and he was forearmed to face it—to walk away from such temptations as all others did before him.” She shook her head. “His excuses have grown tedious in the retelling, my dear, and my patience has worn thin.”

The woman’s anger surprised her.

Alizeh studied the lady framed in the doorway: her flashing eyes, her pursed lips, the tension she carried in her shoulders.”

““Because I need you,” she said, retrieving a robe from a hidden cabinet, which she then offered to Alizeh. “Because we need each other.”-“I need nothing from you,” said Alizeh, even as she snatched the robe from Sarra’s hands. She stepped out of the tub, her heavy curls dripping water everywhere. “But I see now that you, as with everyone else, seem to want something from me.”-“I only want justice.” (….)“How can that be true?”-“You seem to forget, darling, that Cyrus killed my husband.”At that, Alizeh went still. Very slowly she looked up, studying the woman before her as if for the first time. Indeed, Alizeh had forgotten.”

““It’s not fashionable for a mother to hate her own son,” Sarra said quietly. “No matter their ills and evils we are expected to go on loving them, forgiving them even when they mutate before our eyes into murderers.”-“I’m so very sorry,” Alizeh whispered.-Sarra canted her head. “When Cyrus killed my husband, I didn’t believe it. Not at first, of course. I gave my child a chance to deny these horrors, to confess it had all been a terrible accident—or even to tell me he’d been framed. He did none of those things. Instead, Cyrus looked me in the eye and told me he’d murdered his father—a man who’d loved him more than life—because he was unfit to be king. He showed no remorse. He did not regret his actions.”Horrified, Alizeh clapped a hand over her mouth.“One day,” the woman said softly, “Cyrus was my son. The next day he was not.”-“Why do you stay?” Alizeh asked, her hand falling away from her face, disbelief coloring her voice. “Does he threaten your life? Do you have nowhere else to go?”-“Motherhood is complicated,” said Sarra, turning away. “In nearly every way, I have disowned him in my heart. I will never forgive him. I cannot love him. But I’ve learned that there are some things I can’t bring myself to accomplish. In vain I’ve tried to do the deed myself, but I’ve found that this is the line I’m unable to cross.” She met Alizeh’s eyes then. “I need you to stay because I cannot do this on my own.”-“I don’t understand,” Alizeh said, even as her heart pounded in her chest, her instincts screaming at her to keep quiet, to ask no further questions. “What can’t you do on your own?”-“Kill him, darling. I need your help to kill him.””

“It was a tragedy of the current chaos that Kamran hadn’t been afforded more than minutes to mourn the loss of King Zaal. He’d been unable, as a result, to sort out his feelings about the man. He wished someone might simply tell him how to feel, or at least teach him to make sense of the unspeakable horrors his grandfather had committed. How was Kamran meant to condemn someone who’d debased himself in the interest of his own protection? How, when he’d known eighteen years of love and devotion from his grandfather, was he supposed to compartmentalize his feelings now, when his mind was battered by grief, when he lacked the tools necessary to hack apart the chambers of his heart? Was it possible, he wondered, to love and detest a parent simultaneously?”

“The more he lived—the more he endured—the more convinced Kamran became that he knew nothing at all.”

“In one hand Kamran clutched Alizeh’s modest carpet bag; in the other, a small, sealed jam jar, the thin lid of which he’d speared several times with his mother’s dagger, poking holes so the insect inside might be able to breathe in its confinement.”

““We didn’t know he was a Jinn, sire—he’s already destroyed two of the other cells—

“Took twelve of us to restrain him—”

“He’s been violent, Your Highness, you shouldn’t be alone with him—”

“We had to knock him senseless—

“Put him in shackles, made specially for his kind, but he’s like a beast, out of his mind—”

“Unbelievably strong one, sire—best if you let us deal with him—”

“Get out,” Kamran said, his voice like thunder. “All of you. I can handle him just fine.”

The cluster of guards froze, stood upright in unison, bowed en masse, and rushed out the door, which closed with a violent clang behind them. Only when he was sure they were alone did Kamran draw closer to the rusted bars of the cell.

“Hazan,” Kamran said into the silence. “Look at me.”

He did not.

“Hazan,” Kamran said again, this time angrily. “I bid you rise.”

Without lifting his head, Hazan said, “With all due offense, sire, please fuck off.”Shock provoked Kamran to make a sound, something like a laugh. He’d never heard Hazan use foul language, and somehow it only fed his curiosity.It seemed Hazan had been hiding a great many things about himself; and Kamran, who suddenly had numerous questions for his old friend, made no preamble.-“Why did you never tell me you were a Jinn?” he asked.-“I thought it none of your concern.”-“None of my concern? We’ve known each other since childhood, and you didn’t think I had a right to know that your loyalty, all this time, was to another empire? To another sovereign? You didn’t think it was my concern that my home minister was only biding his time, using me, no doubt, to feed information to his people, hoping to one day lead an insurrection?”-“No.”

“I have your pet,” he said.-Hazan straightened at that, studying Kamran with a wariness that said he didn’t believe him. “My pet?”-Kamran held up the jam jar for inspection, elevating the container to Hazan’s eye line. Upon sighting him, the dispirited insect took flight with a terrible frenzy, flinging itself desperately against its prison, its abdomen illuminating at intervals, the small body striking the glass with a series of dull, steady pings.-“Will you attempt to deny that this belongs to you?”-It was a while before Hazan said, reluctantly, “No.”-“I assume you want to keep it.”-By way of response, Hazan only sighed. He tilted his head back against the wall, crossed his arms against his chest. The tense line of his mouth all but screamed an unspoken irritation.-“It’s not an it,” he said darkly. “It’s a her.”-“And I will give her back to you after you’ve answered my questions.”-Hazan shot him a bleak look. “You think too highly of my relationship with an insect if you think I’d divulge sensitive information for so small a reward.”-“I see. So you wouldn’t mind if I were to crush her under my boot.”-“You wouldn’t.”-“I would.”-Hazan shook his head, turned away. “You really would, wouldn’t you?You faithless rotter.”-Kamran’s expression was grave. “Hazan,” he said. “I need to know what you did for her.”-“Why?” Hazan laughed bitterly. “Lost her again, have you?”-“Yes.”-Hazan looked up at that, a ghost of a real smile grazing his lips. “Then you’ve delivered me joyous news indeed. I’m quite ready to hang now, for I may die peacefully knowing she’s escaped.”-“I need to know what you did for her,” the prince said again, this time angrily. “Did you intend for her to overtake my throne?”-“Overtake your throne?” Hazan said, his eyes incredulous. “Overtake the throne of the largest empire in the world, you mean? She and what army?”-“So you did not intend for her to attain power?”-“To what end do you interrogate me now?” Hazan scowled. “You thought I’d attempt to resurrect an old empire? To sentence my own people to death by inciting a war they lack the numbers to win? An innocent young woman was being actively hunted by your grandfather for the terrible crime of existing, lest you forget. I wanted only to situate her somewhere safe, somewhere far from the reach of mercenaries. She has no interest in overthrowing you, in any case. She is a tenderhearted young woman who wishes only to be left alone.”-Kamran clenched his jaw. “There, you are mistaken.”-Hazan went silent, taking a moment to study the prince with renewed curiosity. “You flaming idiot,” he said. “Don’t tell me you’ve had a change of heart in the wake of your grandfather’s death? After I had to endure the hours of you moaning on and on about saving her, you’ve now decided to fulfill the man’s final wishes and lop off her head?”Kamran flinched.-That Hazan had been able to read him so easily was a disconcerting revelation, one he didn’t know how to digest. “If you think I will tell you anything about her,” Hazan said darkly, “you are quite deluded. Now either kill me or fuck off.”-“Hazan.”-“What?”-“She is betrothed to him.”-“Who?” Hazan appeared distracted, staring intently at the carpet bag still clutched in Kamran’s hand. “Betrothed to whom?”-“The girl. She is betrothed to Cyrus.”-Hazan’s head lifted sharply at that, his eyes fathomless, dark as pitch. “Cyrus? You refer to the sentient piece of human excrement responsible for murdering our Diviners? The man she accused of being a monster just before striking across the face?”-“The very one.”-Now Hazan looked murderous. “What is your game? Do you slander her hoping I might be inspired to kill you, spare you the mess you’ve made of your own life?”-“Upon my honor, I swear it to be true,” Kamran said sharply. “Cyrus told me himself that they would soon marry. She escaped the ball last night on the back of a Tulanian dragon. No doubt they are together now.”-Hazan unfolded his body slowly, rising to his full height before stepping forward, the orange glow of torchlight gilding the lines of his face, emphasizing the broken slope of his nose. Hazan studied Kamran with a familiarity the latter had always taken for granted. Fifteen years they’d known each other and never had Kamran realized the value of his old friend, who’d been the closest thing he’d ever had to a brother.“Your face,” Hazan whispered. “The magic has changed.”-“Yes.”-Hazan closed his eyes a moment, drew a deep breath. “And has no one spoken of it? Have they not come for you yet?”-“What do you mean? Who would come for me?”-“The Diviners,” he said quietly, before meeting the prince’s eyes. “You are in danger, Kamran.”-“You know what it means, then?” Kamran felt his pulse pick up. “You know why the magic has changed?”-“Yes.”-“Will you not tell me?”-“First, make one thing clear to me right now.” Hazan drew away from the bars and began to pace. “Have you come here to kill me, or to make me a deal? Because if I’m going to die anyway, I fail to see the point in assisting you.”-“I need you to live.”Hazan stopped moving.“I sentenced you to death,” Kamran explained, “because I thought your alliance with the girl meant you were conspiring with the Tulanian empire. I thought you assisted in my grandfather’s murder, in the assassination of the Diviners. I assumed you were trying to overthrow the crown, and that you were working in tandem with the Tulanian king.”-“I suppose I should be flattered you thought me so enterprising,” Hazan said coldly.-“I see now,” Kamran went on, “that your entirely independent acts of stupidity managed to become entangled in this chaotic web, and I was only this morning able to discern the disparate role you played. I don’t have to condone your actions to understand them—and I still think you’re an unalloyed bastard for lying to me—but I can appreciate the instinct you felt to spare her; for I, too, felt the same instinct, as you well recall.”-“Then you are offering me a deal.”-“I need your mind, Hazan. I need whatever knowledge you have about the girl. I know you feel immense loyalty to her—I realize you find yourself in this dungeon precisely because you pledged your life to her—but she’s deceived us both, and I fear we will only understand why when it is far too late.”-“You want to wage war against Tulan.”-“I do.”-“And you are asking me to assist you in murdering the young woman who is meant to be the salvation of my people.”-“I am.”-Hazan stepped closer to the door of his cage, wrapping his hands around the iron bars. His eyes flashed with fury. “I would sooner die.”-Kamran leveled Hazan with a glare of his own, rage simmering too close to the surface. With impressive control he managed to say, quietly: “She is working with the devil.”-Hazan froze. He fell back a step, his hands releasing the iron bars, his face going slack. “What?” he breathed.-“You weren’t there. You didn’t hear them speak. She has a formidable ally in the Tulanian king, yes—but her biggest supporter is Iblees.”-“That’s impossible,” said Hazan. “Iblees is responsible for the ruin of our entire civilization— She would never—”-“Think of all that has happened since she entered our lives, Hazan. It is just as the prophecy foretold—the Diviners are dead; my grandfather is dead; Ardunia is unprotected—”-“And your face,” Hazan said, seeming to surprise himself as he spoke. “The magic has changed.”-“How is that connected to this?” The former minister was silent too long. He was staring into the distance, his eyes vacant. Lost.-“The distortion of the magic,” Hazan said finally. “It means your right to the crown is no longer absolute. It means there might live a worthier inheritor of the throne.”-Kamran felt his heart rate spike. It was with great equanimity that he managed to say: “So she intends to take my empire.”-“She will not need to,” Hazan said, dragging a hand down his face. “As if the nobles didn’t have enough reason to deem you unfit to rule—they are no doubt assembling a halo of Diviners from across the empire as we speak. They’ll want a validation of the magic, which you will not receive, and once you’re declared an uncertain heir, they will oust you from the palace.If you do not take swift action now—”-“Then you agree I have no choice—I must kill her—”-“No,” Hazan said, cutting him off. “There are other ways. But if you’re going to accept my help, you will also accept my judgment on this matter. I will be the one to decide whether she has betrayed her people—which means you will not disturb a hair on her head unless I give you leave to do so.” Hazan lifted his shackled hands, and in one swift movement, tore the iron manacles apart. He used his teeth to pry the cuffs off his wrists, after which he tossed the metal to the floor, where it landed with a heavy clatter. And then he ripped the prison door off its hinges. He set the iron gate against the wall before crossing the threshold, where he met the prince eye-to-eye. Kamran, to his credit, showed no surprise.-“All this time you could’ve walked free,” he said, staring steadily at his friend. “Why let the guards think they’d subdued you? You couldn’t have known I would come.”-“I didn’t,” Hazan said quietly. “I fought the guards because they treated me like an animal, and when they realized I was Jinn, their behavior toward me grew only more reprehensible. I remained here because I thought I deserved to die, for I thought I’d failed her. Now I’ve learned I must live, if only long enough to understand what’s happening.”-Kamran was quiet for some time, absorbing this. “It’s astonishing,” he said finally, “how long you managed to hide your true self from me. I always suspected you were holding back; I never realized how much.”-“And are you horrified,” he said, “to discover the truth?”-“No. I think I prefer the real Hazan.”-“I fear you might regret saying that,” he said, even as he almost smiled. “Be warned, Kamran. The terms of our agreement are nonnegotiable. Lift a finger against her prematurely and I won’t hesitate to kill you myself.” “

“With the exception of her magical ball gown, it had been many years since Alizeh had worn anything but the drab, serviceable garb of a servant, and despite the tragic circumstances, she was immensely grateful for the finery. Always she’d appreciated an artfully woven garment, but there was an even greater pleasure to be derived from the textile itself; here, at least, her gowns would be fashioned from cloth so fine they’d never chafe or itch, never leave angry marks where the coarse seams scraped painfully against her skin during endless hours of labor. In a situation so bereft of mercies, she clung to this small gift, let it feed her starving heart.”

“The older woman had reasoned that if Alizeh stayed in her rooms,Cyrus would grow anxious to check on her, for he awaited her downstairs with great anticipation. Alizeh should wait for him to come to her, Sarra had said, whereupon she should take advantage of the private moment—away from the wide eyes and perked ears of watching servants—to tell Cyrus she’d had a change of heart and to accept his proposal. Thinking it over now, Alizeh felt a bit sick. It had been with a shocking reluctance that she’d agreed to Sarra’s morbid arrangement. Shocking, because, as Cyrus had so boldly accused Alizeh earlier, she’d indeed been threatening to murder him for hours. That Alizeh vacillated at all about killing him now was strange, for it should not have been so difficult a choice to make, certainly not under the current circumstances.”

““Forgive me, darling, but you’ll never best him in battle,” she’d said sympathetically. “I shouldn’t try it, if I were you.”Alizeh had protested at that, preparing to defend her many strengths, but Sarra only lifted a hand dismissively. “Oh, I’m sure you’re quite capable. Noble, too. My son, on the other hand, will not fight fair. He’s been studying sorcery and divination since he was old enough to toddle. He’s exceedingly clever, rather deceptively strong, and lacks a basic standard of virtue. He’s also very, very angry, and suspicious to a fault. He trusts no one. He won’t take even a sip of water without having a servant taste it before him.” She’d looked Alizeh over. “Your unchecked anger makes you a clear threat, my dear, and for as long as you persist in this attitude, Cyrus will remain on guard. “We must approach this from a position of strength,” Sarra had said firmly, “and I believe your greatest strength might be something unexpectedly quiet. Convince him you genuinely wish to marry him, and once he ceases to suspect you of standing against him, you might then poison him over breakfast.” “

“She was trapped in a foreign land, charged with a strange task by a strange woman. It seemed all who met Alizeh possessed ulterior motives, whether to maim or manipulate or lie. Kamran, too, cherished as he was by her, had been dishonest from the start; and while of course she understood his reasons, it troubled her nonetheless that even the positive relationships in her life—Omid and Miss Huda and even Deen, the apothecarist, among them—had all been born in some manner of unkindness. Alizeh was grateful for the good in her life, really she was, but sometimes she longed for a joy undiluted; she wanted to know what it was to smile unhampered by darkness, to laugh without knowing the drumbeat of pain, to see friends without the shadow of uncertainty.

What was uncomplicated happiness? She dearly wished to know.

In all the years since her parents had died, there had been only one soul who, from start to finish, had been truly in her corner.

Hazan.

From the moment they’d met, Hazan had been steadfast, and now he was dead.”

“With shaking fingers she swiped at her cheeks, thinking of how Hazan had given up his life in the unmitigated pursuit of her protection, had taken chances for her without even knowing whether she was worthy. Even now she benefited from his generosity, the nosta having proven over and over to be the greatest gift she’d ever received, for without its guidance she’d have been well and truly lost. She sniffed and sent up a whisper of gratitude, wishing, as she struggled to fight back another wave of tears, that she’d had the chance to thank him while he was still alive. Hazan had believed in her.”

“How she wished her parents were still alive. If only they were here to help her, to show her the way. More than anything, Alizeh found she wanted two things simultaneously: to go into a deep hibernation from which she might never emerge; and to rise up and become all that her people had ever hoped for. The problem with the latter option was both simple and tragic. She didn’t know how. It was a general ignorance of the path she was meant to follow that had forced her into hiding in the first place. Prior to her eighteenth birthday—the event having occurred only several months ago—the power she’d been promised wouldn’t have even opened to her, and now that she’d finally come of age, she couldn’t access that which was hers. Five souls had to be willing to die for her before the magic would even reveal itself, and prior to that she’d have to find the glorious substance, the location of which was a lost secret. All she knew was that the volatile minerals were buried deep in the Arya mountains of Ardunia—and the only object that might’ve helped her pinpoint the precise location was now gone.””

“Cyrus, on the other hand, was sitting calmly in the chair across from her, his iconic black hat nowhere in sight. His eyes shone a bright, mesmerizing blue against the golden warmth of his skin, the waves of his coppery hair glinting in errant streaks of sun, the resultant sheen making the locks seem almost metallic. He was infuriatingly beautiful, and she nearly threw her teacup at him.“You absolute heathen,” she cried. “Why did you not knock—”-“I did,” he said, and spoke his next words slowly, as if she were a child. “But you couldn’t have heard, because you were sitting all the way out here.”-Alizeh’s grip tightened around the empty glass in her hand. “And it didn’t occur to you that perhaps I wished to be alone?”-“No.” He tilted his head, a strange little smile touching his lips. “My mother told me you were waiting for me. She said you wished to speak with me on a matter of great importance.” “

““Forgive me,” said Cyrus quietly, “but do you intend to make it a habit of wearing transparent garments in my presence? Do tell me now, I beg you, so that I might blind myself in anticipation.”-Alizeh opened her eyes, a quiet rage building in her chest even as her battered dignity demanded she blush. “How dare you,” she whispered.-“It’s only that I can see straight through the front of your dress,” he said, gesturing vaguely at her body. “And I’m beginning to see that this is a pattern with you.””

“So she smiled. She sat back down in her wet dress, dropped an elbow onto the table, her cheek into her hand, and smiled. She put a great deal into the effort, too, recalling her happiest memories until the smile was no longer forced, but genuine. “No,” she said politely, all trace of anger gone from her voice. “I do not intend to make it a habit. And I’m glad you’ve come. There’s a great deal we must discuss.”-Cyrus did not hide his surprise. She thought he might look away from her unbridled smile; instead he studied her with visible fascination, turning fully in his seat to face her. He said nothing even as his eyes fairly glimmered with mirth, watching her for so long she nearly gave up the effort, all the while ignoring the way her heart reacted to the full force of his attentions. It was impossible to deny: there was something physically potent about Cyrus, a powerful presence he carried with him into every moment. He looked at her then with a focus so complete she felt she might buckle under its weight, and tried not to think about why her breaths seemed to come a bit faster, her heart pounding a bit harder when his lashes lowered, his gaze falling to her lips for a moment too long. She felt trapped. -“Alizeh,” he said softly. “Have you been a wicked girl?” Abruptly she drew away from the table and hugged herself, her wet gown chilling her anew in the breeze.-“No,” she said too quickly, realizing that, in fact, she might’ve underestimated the southern king. Never averting his eyes, Cyrus mirrored her earlier movements. He dropped an elbow onto the table, his cheek into his hand, and blinded her with a smile so sincere it unsettled her, inciting an unexpected, detestable flutter of feeling in her chest.-“No?” he said, still smiling. Not trusting herself to speak, she shook her head. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he said, his smile vanishing. “Even when you lie to me.” His admission awoke a flare of heat in her veins, a reaction she didn’t understand and was afraid to analyze. She knew not why he’d say such a thing to her, nor why his words had made any impact, and she didn’t want to think on it. She knew only that Cyrus’s eyes had darkened with an emotion she was afraid to name; and she had no idea what he was going to say next. She was realizing she never did. Cyrus stood up suddenly, stepped closer, towered over her. He all but blotted out the light with his height, casting her in shadow, causing her to shiver in the absence of the sun. He touched her then, shocking her with a tenderness she wasn’t expecting, tracing the line of her jaw so lightly her lips parted on a sudden breath. She couldn’t seem to move.Her body had betrayed her. Her body had betrayed her, even as her mind screamed.“Wicked girl,” he whispered. “You’ve been making deals with my mother.”

““YOU GAVE MY JOB TO the child?”Hazan threw open the door to the war room with an unchecked anger that was beginning to feel familiar. The former minister had bathed and changed; he’d not been imprisoned long enough to have lost his rooms and belongings, so it was with some efficiency that he was able to return to a semblance of normal. With one great exception.-“Omid saved my life,” Kamran said without looking up. He sat in the war room alone, drinking tea as he paged through a fresh stack of reports from the different reaches of the empire.-“Yes, so you said. Though I’d not realized he’d relieved you of your good sense in the process.”-“Did you know,” Kamran said, lifting a sheaf of paper as he scanned it, “that in recent months there’ve been a dozen reports of unexplained avalanches—in three different mountain ranges across the empire?”-Hazan ignored this as he strode into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. “You hired an uneducated twelve-year-old to succeed me, and you expect me not to take offense? As if my job were so simple—and I, so easily replaced?”-Kamran put down the papers. “Do you not think it strange?”-“Strange is too gentle a word—I think it verifiably crackbrained—””

““I will allow,” said Kamran, lightly clearing his throat, “that I was perhaps not entirely in my right mind when I made the decision. Still, I would argue that your judgments of the child are too reductive; in my estimation, Omid has proven a great deal less conniving than the members of our own parliament. The nobles of the Seven Houses will likely never change, but with proper guidance, the boy might yet make something of himself.”-“And I? What am I meant to make of myself?”-“I intend to confer knighthood upon you.”-Hazan scoffed in anger, preparing to argue—when he realized, with a visible shock, that Kamran had spoken in earnest. “You wish to make me a knight?” he said, stunned. “But I’m not even a soldier.”-“I have proof enough of your valor, Hazan.”-The former minister fell back, fell silent. He stared for a moment at the floor as a rare heat burned across his cheekbones, the tips of his ears. “And I have full confidence,” Kamran said, returning to his papers, “in your ability to storm a battlefield.”-“You are not yet king.” Hazan looked up, his tone still betraying a stubborn skepticism. “Do you even have the power to do such a thing?”-“Are you trying to offend me?” said Kamran, a shadow of a smile touching his lips. “I’ve always possessed such a power. Though as imminent heir to an empty throne, I do have more authority now than I did yesterday, and I find I’m eager to exercise these rights before they’re taken away.”-“And what does that entail?”-“First, I must tell you that you were right,” Kamran said, rising from his chair. “In your absence I learned that the nobles have already assembled a new royal court of Diviners, who should be arriving steadily throughout the day. The last of them will be here by nightfall. They are to stay here at the palace while their rooms are readied at the Diviners Quarters; they won’t be leaving until after all the funerals take place over the next couple of days.”-“Zahhak told you this?”-Kamran’s eyes narrowed. “Zahhak wouldn’t tell me if a sword were inches from my throat. He still thinks me an ignorant child unworthy of my father’s throne.”-“A shame, isn’t it? That you’ve never given him reason to think otherwise.”-“Shut up, Hazan.”Hazan only smiled.(…….)Hazan blinked. “But— Your mother has fled the palace? When? Not after she buried her dagger in your arm?”-“Impeccable timing on her part. I’m afraid she has a fantastically warped idea of what constitutes maternal affection.”-“And you don’t know where she’s gone?”-“I haven’t the faintest. When I asked, Jamsheed claimed she’d gone to fetch me a gift in honor of my impending coronation.” Kamran then raised his eyebrows at Hazan.-Hazan mirrored the expression. “A vial of poison, then?”-“My thoughts exactly,” said the prince, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “It really is a great comfort to me that you are not dead this morning, Hazan.”-“It is a great comfort to me as well, sire,” Hazan said drily.”

““We?” Hazan balked. “You and I are meant to save the Ardunian empire all alone, then? And where is the child who stole my job?”-“The child is occupied.”-“With what?”-“Bringing me witnesses.”-“What for, you exasperating halfwit?” Hazan threw up his hands. “Are you so incapable of anticipating that I might want more than the paltry, monosyllabic responses you serve?”-“Heavens, you sound almost hungry.”-Hazan sighed, searching the room as if for patience. “Do you know,” he said finally, “it’s just occurred to me that I no longer have to pretend to ownan appetite at regular intervals. A small but rather delightful gain of all this perfidy, for I find eating meals an exhausting waste of time.”-Kamran raised his eyebrows. “Speaking of Jinn I don’t understand,” he said, reaching underneath the large table and unearthing the forgotten carpet bag. “I take it you know who this belongs to.”-The prince dropped the luggage onto a newly cleared section of the polished wood, still managing to send papers scattering in the process. Hazan only stared at him. “In the dungeons earlier,” Kamran explained. “I saw you studying it, as if it looked familiar to you.”-Hesitantly, Hazan said, “I’m not certain of the owner. I have only an unsubstantiated theory.”-“Go on.”-“I think it belongs to Alizeh.”Kamran gripped the table, anticipating pain, and instead he felt only a gentle heat, a flutter in his chest, a heavenly fragrance filling his head. He hadn’t realized he’d squeezed his eyes shut until he forced them open and was met with a look of astonishment on Hazan’s face.-Slowly, Kamran released the table. “How,” he said, clearing his throat, “do you know it belongs to her?”-Hazan only gaped at him. “What just happened to you?”-“Nothing.” He sighed. “I don’t know. Just don’t say her name again.”-“Who? Alizeh?”-“Bastard,” Kamran muttered as renewed feeling lanced through him,birdsong filling his head, a warm, not unpleasant sensation sparking along the disfigured lines of his neck, his cheek, his changed eye. “You did that on purpose.”-“I swear I didn’t,” said Hazan quietly, studying Kamran closely now. “I don’t understand. You can’t hear her name without experiencing . . . what? Pain?”-The feeling was slowly abating, and Kamran drew a steadying breath as he shook his head. “It’s not always pain. I feel . . . different things each time, and it only started this morning. You don’t happen to know what’s wrong with me?”-“I’m afraid not,” said Hazan, concern etching his forehead. “But if she has some kind of hold on you from so far away, only a powerful magic can be involved. I know little more than that.””

“She’d looked into his eyes like he was worth something, had touched him like he might be precious. Her soft curves had fit perfectly in his hands, against his body. He’d wanted to unravel her slowly, strip her down to nothing, press his face to her heated skin and live there, devour her. He’d never admit aloud that he’d done as much in his dreams, losing himself in her over and over, only to wake in a fevered, painful state of frustration. She had gouged a hole in him from which he feared he’d never recover. Not once in his life had he felt such a powerful attraction to anyone. He’d never even known a kiss was capable of such power.-“Kamran?”-“Yes.” The single word was breathless.-“Where did you go?””

““I saw her carrying it,” said Hazan, “the night she was to be murdered by the king.”-That cleared Kamran’s head in an instant. He looked sharply at Hazan, his brows pulling together. “So my grandfather was right,” he said. “She did have help. It was you who assisted her in defeating those ruffians.”-“Not at all.” Hazan laughed. “She did that entirely on her own. I only watched her from the shadows, waiting to intervene should she need assistance, which she never did.” He shook his head. “Your grandfather was so convinced she’d had access to a complex arsenal, when in fact she’d murdered those men with little more than her own sewing supplies.” “

“Kamran nodded. “She thought its contents might be helpful to me in my search.” He relayed to Hazan the information Miss Huda had shared with him that morning: all about the magical shoes; the dress; how Cyrus had appeared as if from nowhere in her room at Follad Place; how he’d threatened to kill her before whisking them all away to the ball without notice, where Miss Huda had arrived terrified and without a voice. “Your queen left behind her bag by accident,” Kamran said archly. “She hadn’t time to take it with her.”-Hazan, who’d gone silent during the explanation, was now frowning. “But I thought the two of them were on good terms. Why would Miss Huda wish to assist in the capture of her friend?”-“So you knew, then,” said Kamran, irritated in a flash. “You knew she worked as a seamstress in addition to being a snoda?”-Hazan shot him an imperious look. “Naturally,” he said. “When I learned of her existence, I uncovered all I could about her.”-“And you didn’t think to tell me?”-“As you will recall, sire, I was at the time withholding a great deal of information from you.”-“For the love of God, Hazan,” he said with a sigh. “Do cease being useless to me.”-“I promise to consider it.”-“Miss Huda only wants us to find the girl,” Kamran pressed on, “because she thinks the Tulanian king might do something terrible. She claims to be worried about her.”-Hazan raised his eyebrows. “I see I have an unexpected ally in Miss Huda, then.””

““As I’ve already told you,” Hazan said flatly. “She has no aspirations to topple any empire. What reason would she have to stockpile weapons?”-“The inconsistency is not lost on me, Hazan,” he said quietly. “But then, there is something else, too.”-From within the depths of the overturned bag, Kamran retrieved a slim, clothbound volume the rough size and shape of a novel, which he slid across the table, toward Hazan. “What do you make of this?” said the prince. The cloth cover was worn and faded; what was once a bright blue was now washed out, nearly gray. The blank pages were stiff and waterlogged, the book warped by time and moisture. Hazan studied it without a word, looking grim about the mouth as he did, and when Kamran flipped the book over so his friend might read the inscription on the back, Hazan drew a sharp breath. In faded gold letters, it read—

MELT THE ICE IN SALT

BRAID THE THRONES AT SEA

IN THIS WOVEN KINGDOM

CLAY AND FIRE SHALL BE”

“ALIZEH REMEMBERED HERSELF A MOMENT too late, jerking away from Cyrus’s hand with the shock that she’d allowed him to touch her at all. She studied him warily in the intervening silence, his eyes as startling as her own, her heart pounding in her chest with a delayed fear. Alizeh had been wrong; she could not manage him. She had been wrong, too, to underestimate him. Always Cyrus seemed to be one step ahead of her, and somehow she knew it would not do to lie to him now, for he seemed preternaturally attuned to deception. It made her wonder whether he owned a nosta, too. “What did my mother convince you to do?” he said quietly, tilting his head as he took her in. “Did she ask you to kill me?” Alizeh could hardly mask her astonishment. The fact that he might guess at Sarra’s dark, decidedly unnatural intentions was alarming, and crowded her head with only more confusion. How twisted was the tale of his family, and what was this trap she’d walked into? How many players were in this game? “Or did you think,” he said, impatience edging into his voice, “that I was unaware of my mother’s barely concealed hatred for me?” Oh, she’d been so sure of herself only moments ago, so certain she was not afraid of him. She felt terrified now. “Alizeh.”-“Yes,” she said breathlessly. “I agreed to kill you in exchange for my freedom.”-Something flashed in and out of his eyes at her admission, and she could’ve sworn it was something like pain. But then he took a sharp breath and straightened, his sardonic smile firmly back in place as he looked over her head, stared into the distance. Alizeh took that opportunity to bolt.”

“If his mother was right about him—and it appeared that she was—and Alizeh would certainly lose to him in a fight of force—which she suspected she might—then she had no choice but to run.“Alizeh,” he cried. She barreled through the double doors that opened onto her bedroom, but only after slamming them shut did she discover they didn’t lock, and in the moments she spent trying to bolt the blasted doors, she saw him fast closing the distance between them, his long legs carrying him along the grassy path at an impressive clip. She abandoned the door just as he tore it open; he was right behind her now, following as she darted uselessly through the serpentine space, preternatural swiftness proving useless to her as she turned in circles, realizing too late that she still didn’t know the layout of this room well enough to locate the exit with efficiency. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he called out, frustrated. “How many times do I have to tell you that I can’t kill you before you actually believe me?”

“She had some kind of immunity. Alizeh spun around, the movement so fast that Cyrus, who’d been chasing after her, didn’t have time to process the change. He abruptly crashed into her, sending them both hurtling before they finally slammed together, him pinning her to the wall so hard she gasped, air leaving her lungs in a rush. Alizeh froze. She was trapped under the unexpected weight of him, the crush of his hard body, the column of his throat a mere inch from her mouth. His closeness was so overpowering it dulled her senses, slowed her mind. He was a heavy wall of heat, his dark, masculine scent overwhelming her, activating some ancient response that made her heart race. At least he, too, appeared stunned, and in the milliseconds during which their minds caught up to their bodies he’d lowered his eyes, nailing her in place with a look that liquefied her bones. She didn’t know if what she felt in his presence was fear or anticipation, but either one seemed cause for concern. She only knew that the anger he conjured a moment later belied the hitch in his breath, the tremble in his body. She watched him swallow as he slowly drew away, his hands sliding off the wall where he’d planted them. He moved back, but not nearly enough.”

““I hate you,” he whispered.-Alizeh blinked, her heart pounding too hard in her chest. “I know.”-He leaned in then, his throat working, his gaze fixed entirely on her mouth. “I hate everything about you. Your eyes. Your lips. Your smile.” His words grazed her skin when he said, softly, “I find your presence insufferable.”-The nosta flared hot against her sternum.“Okay,” she said again, her pulse skyrocketing. “That’s okay.”-He was still breathing hard, his chest heaving between them. “But I’m not going to hurt you.”Again the nosta verified his words, and Alizeh felt some of the pressure ease in her lungs. “Do you believe me?” he asked.-Alizeh nodded. He was so close, his eyes so firmly fixed on her face that she wasn’t sure she’d have noticed the surprise flit in and out of his features otherwise. It was clear he hadn’t expected her to agree, to trust him. He couldn’t have known that he’d been right to doubt her, for what she trusted was not him, but the nosta. Still, a degree of tension seemed to leave his body, relief prompting him to finally step back. He looked shaken as he turned away, staring at the wall, the ceiling, the floor—anywhere but at her face. When he met her eyes again, his were bright with unvarnished feeling.“I need you,” he said roughly. “Don’t run away from me.”-“How can you expect me not to run from you,” said Alizeh, still trying to shake off her apprehension, “when you threatened just hours ago to have my eyes sewn shut?””

““I was, too,” she shot back. “Your little joke resulted in some nasty bites all along my left side. Your mother was kind enough to mix me a medicinal bath.”-Cyrus studied her then with an inscrutable expression. She thought he might demand to see proof of her injuries, but he said only, “Dragons are gentle creatures. They don’t bite unless provoked.”-“Well,” said Alizeh, averting her eyes. She was feeling petulant, and there was only so much eye contact with Cyrus she could handle. “I don’t think the animal meant to bite me. But I was rolled onto its back teeth with rather gruesome results.”-She felt, rather than saw Cyrus go suddenly still, and for the length of a wild, charged moment she thought he might do something unhinged, like apologize. Instead, he said, “You seem well enough now.”-“I’m fine,” she said, irritated.-“Good.”-“And I’m not sorry,” she added bitterly, turning to face him. “I’m not sorry I made a deal with your mother to murder you.”-His lips twitched, his eyes flashing. “I’m not sorry I threw you off a cliff.”-“Excellent,” she said, matching his anger.-He only smiled in response.”

““Cyrus,” she said suddenly. He halted at once, meeting her eyes. “Why, exactly, did you make a deal with the devil?”-Cyrus blinked slowly, visibly thrown by her question. “I thought you didn’t care,” he said. “I thought you said I was no doubt suffering the consequences of my own sins.”-“And are you not?”This, he didn’t answer, not at first. He seemed to be assessing her, deciding whether she was worth an honest response before he said, quietly,-“I was desperate. And stupid.”The nosta agreed with this, and Alizeh took a tentative step closer.-“Why were you desperate?”-Cyrus laughed, but there was an ache in it, a tension in his smile, in the lines of his body. He locked eyes with her, holding her entirely in his thrall before he said, in a softly lilting voice— “Should you choose to tell her why, you’ll only ruin all my fun. Soon thereafter you shall die, bit by bit and both are done.”-Alizeh felt the grip of a familiar terror. “Iblees,” she breathed.-“Yes,” he said quietly.-“What does he mean—bit by bit and both are done?”Cyrus only shook his head. “Right,” Alizeh said, wringing her hands. “You can’t say.””

“Cyrus’s actions were being choreographed by a master planner; he was but a useful puppet in a larger scheme. The difference was, Cyrus had summoned the beast into his life, while Alizeh had only ever been a luckless victim. No doubt some weakness of the flesh had prompted Cyrus to bring these tortures upon himself; she could only imagine what he’d wanted in exchange. His pains, she reminded herself, were not her problem. His mess was not hers to manage.“I realize,” she said calmly, “that you’re in a terrible predicament. I think I can understand why you need me. And while I empathize—more than I’d like—with your situation, I cannot and will not wittingly become a pawn in the plans of the devil. He is the most abhorrent of living beings, and personally responsible for the ruination of my people—for the pain they continue to endure today. I’ve spent my entire life trying to outrun his abiding interest in me, and I don’t intend to stop now.”“And while, yes, you might need me,” she went on, “I feel it necessary to point out here that I require nothing from you. I derive no benefit from helping you; only harm.”-“What if”—he took a deep, measured breath—“what if I made it worth your while?”-“What? How?”-“My mother offered you a deal, which you accepted,” he said. “I’ll offer you a better one.”-She gaped at him. “You’re asking me to double-cross your mother? Heavens, but you’re a very strange family.”-“Marry me,” Cyrus said, a spark of heat in his eyes. “Become my queen just long enough to sate the devil’s demands. Once he’s satisfied, he’ll discharge me of a tremendous debt, and I’ll be that much closer to my freedom. When I’m finally free, I give you leave to kill me at your leisure and take Tulan for yourself.” Alizeh stiffened, disbelief roaring through her, even as the nosta burned hot against her chest.-“You can’t be serious,” she breathed.-“My kingdom,” he said softly. “For your hand.” “

““DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT means?” Kamran asked.-Hazan shook his head. He picked up the book with a reverence evident in his eyes, his hands, in the stillness of his features. Carefully he flipped through its blank pages, then studied the cover with his fingers, searching its skin for something—“There,” he said softly, pressing down on something along the spine.“Just there.”-“What is it?”-“A faint embossing,” he said. “It’s a symbol. Quite old.”-Kamran took the book in his own hands, searching the spine. When he found the mark in question, he frowned. It was the outline of two triangles side by side and interlocked—a third triangle forming where they overlapped—with a single, wavy line underscoring it all. “What does it mean?”-“Arya.”-Kamran froze, then slowly lifted his head, meeting Hazan’s eyes. “Like the mountain range? In the north?”-Hazan nodded, his eyes inscrutable. “Have you ever been?”-“No.”-“It’s brutal up there. Blistering cold like you’ve never experienced and a snowfall that never ceases, reducing visibility near to nothing. It was the home of my ancestors,” Hazan said quietly. “It was where the Jinn built their first kingdom after the fall of Iblees. It’s been whispered among us that the Arya mountains hold a powerful magic accessible only by the true sovereign of the land—but most think it’s only an old story, for no one in documented history has ever found evidence of such a magic.”-“And you?” Kamran tensed as he studied his friend. “Do you think it’s an old story?”-Hazan hesitated, taking a breath before saying, softly: “No.”-Kamran dropped the book on the table, watching it land with a dull thud. “Heavens,” he whispered. “That’s what they’ve been doing here. All these Tulanian spies. All these months.” He shook his head, looked up. “I was wrong, Hazan. War will not solve our problem with Tulan. In fact, I’m starting to think it will make things worse.”-“How do you figure that?”-Kamran briefly squeezed his eyes shut, muttered a foul word under his breath. “Because,” he said, “it seems so obvious now that war is what they want. All this time, they’ve been goading us.”-“I don’t follow your logic. Why would they goad us into war? If they want war, they might launch a preemptive strike of their own—”-“If they were to invade our borders,” Kamran said, frustrated, “they’d be fighting us on our own land. An ant challenging a lion to a duel. Ardunia is enormous, our bases spread generously across the empire, our soldiers numbering in the hundreds of thousands. It’d be a suicide mission.”-Hazan visibly tensed, understanding dawning in his eyes. “But if we were to engage in a land war on their territory—”-“Exactly,” said Kamran. “Our soldiers would be compelled to leave their posts. Ardunia’s forces would be fractured; our priorities rearranged, our troops diverted, our empire far less guarded as a result. Tulan would take full advantage of our distraction to plunder the Arya mountains at their leisure, striking us where we’d least expect it. They’d sustain great losses in the process, but if this magic you speak of truly exists, their reward would be great indeed. Several thousand lives lost in exchange for untold, unknown magical power? It would certainly be worthwhile to someone like Cyrus.” Hazan looked a bit shellshocked.“All these recent offenses”—Kamran shook his head—“Hazan, you know as well as I do that neither of our empires is allowed to use destructive magic at the border—and in all our years of discord with Tulan, they’ve respected this, never breaking the Nix convention. But during the last water journey our ship was nearly overturned upon impact with a magical barrier. This alone should’ve been cause for retaliation, but despite my protests our officials would not see reason—”-“Yes,” said Hazan drily. “I can imagine how they struggled to see your point when you convoluted the issue by insulting them, suggesting that our exchanges with Tulan had become as familiar to them as their own bowel movements—””

“Hazan took on a shrewd look. “And then, of course, there is the small matter of your grandfather.”-“Precisely,” Kamran said, his own eyes narrowing. “It was you who pointed out that never, in all these years of peacetime, had a Tulanian king accepted an invitation to one of our balls.”-Hazan drew a deep breath, releasing it slowly before he said, “It goes without saying that killing and disgracing the sovereign of a neighboring empire are grounds for immediate retaliation.”-“And yet.” A muscle ticked in Kamran’s jaw. “Our officials continue to hesitate.”-“It doesn’t compute.”-“Hazan,” said the prince. “I smell a rat.”-“A rat?” Hazan looked up, surprised. “But wouldn’t a rat aim to fulfill Tulan’s desires? If, as you posit, Tulan is goading us into war, would not the guilty official have pounced eagerly upon any one of these opportunities to strike back?”-Kamran hesitated. “Maybe our rat is awaiting new intelligence.”-“Who? Zahhak?”-“I don’t . . . know,” Kamran said, his focus drifting as he remembered something his grandfather had told him just yesterday—he couldn’t believe it was yesterday. But Zaal had confessed to putting off war with Tulan all these years only for Kamran’s benefit, to spare him the loss of another parent, an immature ascension to the throne, a childhood forged in war. But the late king was also the first to confirm—despite the reticence of all the other nobles—that war with Tulan was absolute. It was in fact one of the last things King Zaal had said to the prince. War is coming, he’d whispered. It has been a long time coming. I only hope I’ve not left you unprepared to face it. Kamran found his nerves would not settle after that; some unspoken unease had come alive in his body like a warning, as if the last of his grandfather’s betrayals had yet to reveal itself.”

““Cyrus took the throne eight months ago.”-The prince’s jaw clenched. “You think they were under his orders to be captured? Or do you think Cyrus has been doing reconnaissance?”-“Both. The other rockfalls you’ve been reading about—perhaps they were distractions. Decoys to divert our attention from their true aim.”-Hazan shook his head. “Perhaps Cyrus was deluded enough to think he’d be recognized as the true sovereign of the land, that Arya would open its arms to him. But if he’s spent months searching the mountains with no success, it follows that he’d then seek out someone who might be able to possess it— and if the stories are true, there’s only one person alive for whom the Arya mountains will give up its secrets.”-“The lost queen of Arya,” Kamran whispered.-Hazan stilled. “Where did you hear that?”-“She told me,” Kamran said, remembering. “She said her name was Alizeh of Saam, daughter of Siavosh and Kiana. That I might know her better as the lost queen of Arya.”-Hazan took a step closer, studying Kamran now with a renewed focus.-“Why would she tell you that?”-“Because I asked her. I’d wanted to know her name.”-“Was this when you went to Baz House? When you were meant to search her rooms—and claimed you’d found them empty?”-Kamran, who was perturbed by the look on Hazan’s face, considered lying but didn’t see the point. “Yes,” he said.-“Angels above,” Hazan said quietly, horror awakening in his eyes. “You kissed her, didn’t you?”-Kamran felt uneasy now. “Why does that matter?”-Hazan turned sharply away, pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. “How can you not understand?” he all but exploded as he spun around. “She is the hope of an entire civilization—she is not some girl to be trifled with, to pass the hours on a dull day—”-“You misunderstand me,” Kamran said sharply, “if you think I ever—”-“I should call you out right now, you arrogant bastard, for treating her so poorly—that you’d ever dally with her and discard her—”-“I did not dally with her—”-“You speak of killing her!”-“I would’ve married her,” Kamran cried.-Hazan stiffened at that, his features frozen in a strange shock. “You lie.”-Kamran laughed, laughed like he’d lost all reason. “I only wish I were. I wish I felt nothing for her. I wish I could rip this useless organ out of my chest for all the trouble it’s caused me. I was so deluded—so disgustingly besotted—I even named her as a possible bride to my grandfather. I had the gall to propose as my queen the young woman prophesied to be his downfall, and he nearly chopped off my head in response. I’d asked her to give me hope, Hazan. I asked her to wait for me. It was she who didn’t want me, who didn’t want to be with me. I never trifled with her. If she’d given me even a little encouragement I would’ve laid down my life for her—happily, I would’ve made her my queen, I—”-“Wait.”-“No— You accuse me without evidence—”-“I said wait,” Hazan cried angrily.-“What on earth for?” Kamran shouted back.-“Just—shut up a moment.” Hazan swiped the book from the table, scanning the inscription on the back once again. When he looked up, he appeared confused. “Maybe,” he said, his frown deepening, “maybe you are supposed to marry her.”-“What?” Kamran blinked; his anger vanished; his heart wrenched in his chest. “What do you mean?”-“Braid the thrones, it says.” Hazan studied the book again, touching his fingers to the embossed letters. “This is a clear message to the chosen sovereign. The last Jinn kingdom existed a millennia ago, and the empire comprised only Jinn; it was a purely homogeneous contingent for a number of reasons, namely in the interest of our safety. But here”—he tapped the book—“this message is both evident and unprecedented. She’s not meant to lead the Jinn in an isolated empire—she’s meant to braid us all together. In this woven kingdom, clay and fire shall be.”-“That may well be true,” Kamran said, still struggling to calm his racing pulse, to quash the hope blossoming inside him. “But you’re thinking of the wrong thrones. You forget that she is betrothed to the Tulanian king.”-Hazan pushed a hand through his hair. “I cannot accept that,” he said, frustrated. “You’ve leveled accusations against her that do not withstand reason. She would never betray her people. She would never accept assistance from Iblees. And she would never agree to marry Cyrus.”-“You don’t actually know her, Hazan,” Kamran said quietly. “You only know who you want her to be.”-Hazan swallowed. “Well, then,” he said. “There’s only one way to have our questions answered.”-“What’s that?”-“We go to Tulan.” “

““WHAT ON EARTH,” SHE SAID, blinking, “could be worth both your life and your kingdom?”-“Alizeh,” said Cyrus quietly, and for a moment he looked quite desperate. “Please.” Oh, she was not made of stone. She was not unaffected by the sound of his voice nor the tragedy in his eyes. She understood, rationally, that Cyrus was a shameless brute, but she also knew the devil too well to dismiss the terror that accompanied his whispers, the way his riddles pierced a soul and lingered, clawing at a mind until one could think of nothing else.-She couldn’t help it; she pitied him. “Cyrus,” she said, shaking her head. “What am I to do with your kingdom?”-A flicker of irritation animated his features. “You might do the obvious thing and fulfill your destiny. You are meant to lead your people, are you not?”-“Yes,” she said, subdued. “In theory.”-“Well, if you take my kingdom, you might put that theory into practice,” he said. “You saw our fireflies— You must realize that Tulan is home to one of the largest populations of Jinn. Our numbers aren’t huge, but it could be the start of something.”-“But isn’t that exactly what the devil wants?”-“Isn’t it what you want?” he countered. “As far as I can tell, you’ve never bartered with Iblees, so any power you attain will be yours to do with what you will. He can only manipulate you through the will and actions of others.”-“As he is now,” she said wryly. “Through you.”-“Right. Well.” Cyrus cleared his throat. “I’m afraid the devil’s wishes are a great deal more complex than this, in any case.”-“And I suspect you’re not allowed to tell me more?”-He laughed; the sound was bleak. “I will only say that arranging our unhappy marriage is but a fraction of what I’ve been commanded to do, and yet it’s the scheme he cares most about. He wants me to help you attain power first and foremost, and I’d be surprised indeed if he isn’t making deals with other unsuspecting fools, tethering their freedom to your ascension much as he has with mine. I pity them all,” he said sullenly. “Dealing with you has been the simplest and by far the most punishing of all his demands.”-“By far the most punishing?” Alizeh echoed, almost smiling. “Come now, you don’t really find me that unbearable.” -“You think I exaggerate?” he said tersely. “Being forced into your company ranks high on the list of the most abhorrent experiences I’ve ever had.”-The nosta flared hot at that, and Alizeh was thrown by the heft of the insult. “You really mean that,” she said, astonished. “But what crimes have I committed to earn your unyielding censure?”-“Are you giving me permission to insult you?”-She felt a flash of anger. “I didn’t realize you needed permission.”-“Alizeh,” he said, his expression both grave and impatient. “Do you have any idea how many people would leap at the opportunity to overtake my kingdom and kill me? Your hesitation is unnerving.”-“But what if I don’t want to kill you? What if I can’t bring myself to do it?”-“What on earth would prevent you?” he shot back. “My overwhelming charm and charisma? You’ve been so eager to off me all this time, but now, suddenly, when I ask you to do the godforsaken deed, you refuse to take direction?”-“Heavens. You talk almost as if you want to die.”-“And you would judge me?” He took an alarming step closer. “For relishing an exit from this brutal consciousness we call life?” -“Not really,” she answered honestly, inching backward. On more than one bleak occasion she, too, had wished for a fast finish to her life—for an escape from the agonies that oppressed her—but she’d never dreamed of saying so out loud, much less to another person. “But you’re terribly morbid.”-“I fear your presence inspires me.”-Alizeh’s anger sharpened; she was growing tired of his childish jabs at her pride. “If you’re so keen to die,” she said, “why not let the devil do it?”-“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, attempting a smile. “I watched you kill five mercenaries with an assortment of sewing supplies. I think I prefer your creativity.”-“Wait— What?” She blinked, alarm awakening her pulse, which fluttered fast now against her throat. “You were there?”-“I was there to protect the devil’s darling,” said Cyrus, his eyes darkening. “Clearly, he underestimated you.”-“But—if you’d seen me,” she said, her mind buzzing, “why did you later mistake me for Miss Huda?”-At the mention of Miss Huda, Cyrus’s expression soured only further. “You were always wearing your snoda,” he said. “And I never saw you in daylight. I stood watch that night, but only from afar. Had I been able to get closer without exposing myself, I might’ve been able to better hear the scandalous whispers of your next assignation; but then, I saw enough of your meeting with Hazan to piece together the more unsavory aspects of your life.”Alizeh was too astonished—too outraged—even to speak. “Tell me one thing,” Cyrus said bitterly. “Just how many men do you have wrapped around your finger?”-“None,” she breathed, shaking her head. “Why—why do you continue to misjudge me? Why would you assume the worst of me based on a single scene you witnessed without context—”-“You stunning little hypocrite,” he said angrily, “I might ask you the same question.”-She looked up at him then, rendered briefly speechless, for she knew not how to respond. It was true: most of what she knew of Cyrus—even the shocking tale of his father’s murder—had been pieced together entirely by hearsay and speculation. It was just that so many people seemed to agree that he was a vile person, and the story of his rise to king was so incontrovertibly horrific that she—Alizeh hesitated, then frowned.“Wait,” she said suddenly. “Cyrus, you murdered your own father for your crown.”-His face cleared of expression at that, his eyes going vacant and cold.“That wasn’t a question,” he said.-“You committed patricide,” she went on, “in the pursuit of domination and glory, for control of a formidable empire. You went to such lengths for power! It couldn’t have been a small thing to kill your own parent. So why would you then toss your spoils at my feet, as if your title means nothing to you?”-Cyrus visibly swallowed. It was a long moment before he said: “I’m quite desperate.”-The nosta warmed at this, but Alizeh’s irritation only intensified. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “It doesn’t follow reason. There’s something you haven’t told me.”-“There are all kinds of things I haven’t told you.”-“What kinds of things?”-“Oh, I don’t know,” he mused. “I didn’t say a word until I was three years old. I don’t like eggplant. And you have a single little freckle in the hollow at the base of your throat.”- Alizeh clasped a hand involuntarily against her neck, almost surprised when her fingers met with the heavy gold collar of her dress, which all but obscured her throat from view. “How did you know that?”-“I have eyes,” he said flatly.-“You’re lying to me.”-“About my eyes? I assure you, they’re quite firmly affixed to my skull.”-“Cyrus—”-“Even if I could— You think I’d tell you, of all people, my sorrows?” he said, turning away. He sounded suddenly bored. “Did you think I brought you here against your will because I was in want of a sympathetic ear?”-“No.”-He looked up at her, a strange emotion flitting across his face. “No,” he echoed softly. “And you should take care to remember that. Should you marry me, it would be in title only. I have no interest in your companionship.” The nosta went cold.”

““You won’t”—she swallowed—“that is, we won’t— I mean, it’s understood, isn’t it, that in the off chance I agree to this arrangement, there won’t be any physical aspect to the relationship—”-“No,” he said sharply. “I won’t touch you.”The nosta warmed.-Breathing a little easier, she said, “Very good. But there’s still one thing I must know. Before I can make any decision, you must tell me, once and for all—”-“Ah, here we are,” he said darkly. “I was wondering when you’d bring this up again. You want to know whether I’ve killed your melancholy king.”-“Why do you continue to press this point? He’s not mine.”-“I have a hard time believing that.”-“Truly, he isn’t,” she said, irritated. “It was— What transpired between us was so brief, and we never— That is, he did try to make me some promises, but it was never clear, really, and I did tell him that it couldn’t—that he and I—”“Never mind.” Cyrus cut her off. “I don’t care to know the dizzying particulars of your relationship with the idiot heir of Ardunia.” -This made her angry. “What reason could you possibly have to malign him, when you’re the cretin who barged into his home and killed his grandfather?”-His eyebrows went high. “Don’t say you mourn the loss of the heinous King Zaal?”-“Oh, just answer the question, you infuriating fool—”-“Which question? About whether he’s dead, or why I hate him?”-“I don’t care if you hate him,” she said. “I only want to know whether he’s alive.”-“And will you cry,” Cyrus said quietly, “if I tell you he’s not?”-Alizeh felt the blood drain from her face at that, horror forcing her voice-to a whisper. “Did you kill him?”-“No.” “

““I must say, I find your reaction shocking,” said Cyrus, who affected a look of surprise. “It’s hard to believe you truly cared for him when you were all the while going behind his back with his home minister.”-“Hazan is my friend, you terrible halfwit!” she cried, and then looked sharply away, emotion threatening to disorder her. “Was my friend. Hazan was my friend.”-“I warn you,” said Cyrus. “If you weep, I might vomit.” “

“She looked up, studying Cyrus with a renewed appreciation. “You will willingly die? Cede the throne?”-“Only,” he said sharply, “after the devil releases me from my arrangement.”-“And how long will that take?”-“I don’t know.”-Alizeh took a steadying breath, and considered him a moment. “Cyrus, there’s something I still don’t understand.”-“What?” he said with disdain.-“If you’re so unafraid of death, why does it matter what the devil wants you to do? Why suffer under his command, carrying out his orders, only to be murdered regardless?”-Cyrus’s cold expression grew somehow icier. It was a long moment before he said, finally, “I must die on my own terms.”-“Why?”-He smiled, and there was anger in it. “If you’re unable to imagine why I can’t risk an untimely death,” he said, “then you, like all others, have built your understanding of me upon a faulty foundation.”-“What nonsense.” Alizeh felt a flash of irritation. “Are you being intentionally cryptic?”-“Yes.”-“Oh.” Her irritation vanished. “Because of Iblees?”-“There’s precious little I can say on this matter,” he said with a swift shake of his head. “So I will say only this: if I’m careful with my life now, it’s because I must live long enough to accomplish something crucial. Beyond that, my beating heart is of no consequence.” He hesitated. “You have no idea what’s at stake. My life is the least of it.”-The nosta warmed at this admission, and Alizeh felt a spike of fear. “I see,” she said softly. “So you mean to imply that you act now not in your own self-interest but for the benefit of other—”-“Do not speculate.” He cut her off, his voice taking on a note of panic.“Do not theorize out loud.”-“Okay,” she said, and swallowed. “All right.”Heavens. This confusing web grew only more tangled by the moment. Alizeh could not then even wonder at what might be motivating Cyrus’s actions. She didn’t know enough about his life, his weaknesses, or his wants to hazard a guess. “You appear to be in quite a predicament,” she said quietly. “Will you not tell me what you received in exchange for your bargain with the devil?” He laughed in response, but the sound was soulless. “I will take that as a no,” she said, and frowned.-Cyrus sighed. “And I take it you will not accept the terms of my offer.”-She lifted her head, meeting his heated eyes. “No,” she said. “But I can promise you this: I will sincerely consider it.”-Cyrus went briefly still. Relief hit him slowly, then suddenly, so much so that he looked as if he’d been knocked back a step. He closed his eyes as he exhaled, reaching unsteadily for the wall to support his weight. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you.”-“I’ve not promised you anything yet,” she said, approaching him with some caution. When still he didn’t move, she gently prodded his chest withone finger. “You shouldn’t be so pleased.”-Cyrus opened his eyes, and for the first time since she’d met him, he looked almost happy. It turned back time on his face, made him look more youthful. His eyes were bluer, brighter. He smiled, and it was real.-She had to fight the urge to smile back. “Come with me,” he said, straightening, and held out his hand. -Alizeh eyed his outstretched hand warily, biting her lip as she hesitated. “Why? Are you going to throw me off a cliff again?”-“Maybe later,” he said lightly.-“Then what?”-“I thought you might like to see Tulan.” “

“He would go to Tulan as a man, not a prince. He would avenge his grandfather’s murder on a personal mission, not an order. He would finally, after eighteen years of unfailing service to the crown, do whatever he damned well pleased. Oh, he had plans for Cyrus. He would not merely kill the young man—he would first destroy him. He would make the southern king pray for death, and only then would he be merciful, fulfilling Cyrus’s wishes by driving a blade through his heart.“Kamran, you ass— Wait—”As was his wont, the prince did not wait. Only when Hazan had caught up to him did he answer his friend’s question—but quietly, so they wouldn’t be overheard—“There are an untold number of things we must do before we can leave,” said Kamran, “and if we don’t start now, we’ll never make it in time.”-“In time?” Hazan stared at the prince. “In time for what?”-“I don’t know. I only feel that we’re going to be late.” “

““Kamran, I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to know that I ask it sincerely—”-“What?”-“Have you lost your mind?”-The prince laughed at that, the sound hollow. “I lost my mind the moment I met her, Hazan, and you were there to witness my fall from reason, so don’t feign surprise now.”- “I swear, sometimes you scare me.”-“Sometimes, Hazan, I scare myself.” Kamran continued moving at a steady clip, even as he glanced down at the book in his hands. “We’ll set sail tonight, at midnight, under the cover of darkness.”-“Sail?” Hazan’s eyes widened, nearly missing a step as he kept pace. “You mean to enter Tulan via the Mashti River? We might not survive such a journey in daylight, much less—””

“Hazan fell silent at that, even as his eyes were troubled. “Very well,” he said finally. “What will you tell the boy?”-“Omid?” Kamran frowned. “Nothing. The fewer people who know of our whereabouts, the better.”-“And why must we keep our journey a secret?”-“Because I’d rather they didn’t know where to find me.”-“Who?” Hazan said, brows furrowing. “I didn’t realize you were being hunted.”-“No, but I soon will be.” Kamran rounded the corner and rushed up the grand marble staircase, the staccato knock of his boots echoing in the massive hall. “I intend to empty out the treasure houses before we go, and I’d rather not leave an easily followed trail, else the nobles will sort out my execution with impressive speed.”-“Wait”—Hazan hurried up the stairs alongside him—“what need do you have of the treasure houses?”-“Gold. Weapons. Horses.” Kamran came to an abrupt stop at the landing and turned sharply to face Hazan. “This task I leave to you: open our stores while we still have access and take a great deal more than you think we’ll require. If I’m to be ousted from the palace, I’ll need a place to land upon our return. Find us somewhere safe—purchase property from an unsuspecting farmer if you must—then organize a team of the finest riders and fighters, and compensate them handsomely for a period of six months. We will require our own armed force.”-“Tell me you jest.”-“You are more than capable.”-Hazan stared at him in stupefaction. “You want me to raid the coffers of the crown, travel north to the country, chase down a farmer, buy his broken home, scour the empire for its best mercenaries, and form a covert militia— all in the same day?”-“You are possessed of supernatural speed, strength, and invisibility, Hazan. I grant you full permission to use your powers for good.”-“And if I’m stopped by a magistrate?”-Kamran reached into his pocket, retrieved a coin, and flipped it in the air, watching as Hazan easily caught the piece in one hand. “Show them this,” said the prince. “It has my seal upon it.”-“Which they will believe is forged.”-“I feel confident you will figure it out,” Kamran said with some finality.-Hazan shot him a dark look, but still he gave Kamran a deferential nod. “You are very lucky, then, that I already have a trusted team upon whom I rely. They’ll make a fine militia.” “

““No,” he said finally. “I suspect you’re not.”-“Kamran.” The prince looked up, the question in his eyes. “What will you do?” Hazan asked, watching him closely. “When you see her?”-At the mere suggestion, Kamran’s heart reacted. Until this very moment he’d managed to avoid visualizing this part; some protective instinct in his brain had prevented him from focusing too much on the aspect of the journey that might injure him most. But that he might see her again—speak with her again so soon— It was almost too much. He felt the grip of a terrible anxiety close around his throat, experiencing an inexplicable pain in the aftermath, a searing heat along his breastbone he could not fathom into words. She’d betrayed him, punched through his sternum with the heft of it, and he didn’t know what he’d do when he saw her again, for he couldn’t know what he’d uncover in Tulan. Either he’d discover he’d been a faithless jackass to have doubted her, or he’d be dealt a final, obliterating blow he feared would break him. He might fall to his knees before her; or he might be forced to kill her. The possibility left him sick. His voice was an unrecognizable rasp when he said, finally answering Hazan’s question: “I don’t know.”-“For what it’s worth, sire, I don’t believe she betrayed any of us.”-“Enough,” Kamran said, turning away. “We’ve much to do. You will meet me at the docks at midnight.” “

“Kamran had never known how muddy grief might be; it had never occurred to him that the death of a loved one might prove difficult to mourn, or that a heart might continue to beat long after it was broken. He’d not been taught to navigate this misty, middle track of uncertainty; no, Kamran had lived always with the luxury of absolutes. Even in childhood he’d known the delineated position he was meant to occupy in the world, had known the rules that corralled his life. He’d stepped from one gilded milestone to another with a confidence so complete it had never occurred to him, not until Alizeh tore open his life, to doubt the course laid before him.”

““We should’ve gotten you a new wardrobe,” Kamran said, opening his eyes to study the boy’s oversized, ill-fitting clothes anew. “Of course they don’t believe you; you don’t look as if you come from a royal household.” He looked askance at the child. “Why did you not take the carriage as I instructed? The royal seal would’ve been proof enough for anyone.”-Omid shook his head, hard. “I tried, sire, honest I did. But he wouldn’t let me take the carriage.”-Now Kamran frowned. “Who wouldn’t let you take the carriage?”-“The coachman. He told me he’d whip me if I so much as touched one of the coaches, so I been runnin’ round on foot, you see, which is why it took me so long—”-“Dear God.” “

““This is my fault,” Kamran said to the child. “I should’ve seen to your clothes before sending you off on an errand. And it didn’t occur to me that I might have to make introductions to the staff. You are not to blame on these counts.” He sighed. “In fact, I see now that I made a larger mistake in giving you so much responsibility. You’re clearly a poor fit for this role—”-“No, sire—” The boy threw out a hand as if to stop Kamran from speaking, realized too late that he’d nearly touched the prince, and recoiled in horror. “I’m sorry—I mean, forgive me—”-“Omid—”-“Please,” the boy said, wiping desperately now at his damp face and straightening to his full height. “I can do it, sire, I promise I can. I want this job more than anything my ma and pa would be so proud if they could see how I’d turned things around—and I promise I’ll show you what I can do. On my parents’ graves, sire, I swear it.” “

““I BEG YOUR PARDON?” ALIZEH blinked at Cyrus. “You want to show me Tulan?”-“Aren’t you curious?”-“Very,” she said. “It’s only that I didn’t think you’d let me leave the palace.”-Cyrus laughed at that, then frowned. “Why wouldn’t I let you leave the palace?” -She matched his look of confusion. “Because,” she said slowly. “I would run away, you see. And you need me to remain here and do your bidding, or else the devil is going to kill you.”-“Ah.” He grimaced. “Right. Well. In that case, I must get on. I suppose I’ll see you at dinner, should you choose to join me.” He gave her a nod, turned on his heel and, with a purposeful stride, headed to the door.-Alizeh watched this happen with undisguised disappointment. “Wait,”she called out, crestfallen. “Are you really leaving? Are we really not going to see Tulan?”-Cyrus hesitated, but didn’t turn to face her. She saw only the tense back of him, his copper hair a brilliant contrast to his simple black coat. She was again struck by the cut of him, the space he commanded even now, when she couldn’t see his face.-He said softly, “It was rather foolish of you to mention the bit about running away.”-“I know.” Alizeh bit her lip. “I’m quite sorry for it now.”-Slowly, he turned around. “Are you saying you’re not going to run away, then?” “

“Well, the truth was, she had nowhere else to go. Here, at least, her favor was being courted by both mother and child; and Alizeh, who’d been forced to sleep too many brutal nights in the gutter, her cheek pressed to the filth of a city street, did not take for granted the luxury of a warm bed. She could not deny that this was a lovely place to rest awhile—and to sort through the myriad disasters strewn before her. In fact, she could still hear the birds chirping outside; the hush of the waterfalls in the distance; the efforts of the wind pushing apart branches, rattling leaves. It was, in a word, lovely.”

“She lifted her eyes, finally meeting Cyrus’s impatient gaze. Hesitantly, she said, “Perhaps I won’t run away today.”-His agitation gave way to visible bemusement. “Is that so? Having a good time, then, are you? Enjoying my hospitality?” -Quietly, Alizeh cleared her throat. “You may choose to poke fun,” she said, clasping and unclasping her hands. “But I am deciding, after all, whether or not to marry you, and I think I should be allowed to see the land you intend to leave me before I make my choice.”Cyrus stiffened at that. He stared at her, unblinking, the light dying in his eyes as he turned slowly away, lapsing into silence. In fact, he said nothing for so long that Alizeh felt forced, in the mounting discomfort of the moment, to speak. “Cyrus?” she said uneasily. “Are you all right?”-He looked up. “Ever?” She frowned.-“You know,” he said attempting a laugh, “I realize you might not believe this, but I never dreamed I’d one day be forced to take a wife in this manner.” He shook his head, turned away again. “I’m trying to give you Tulan—a jewel among empires, a land that is my home. I stand here begging you to marry me—to kill me and take my nation, my crown, my legacy—and you won’t even say yes.” He closed his eyes and swore. “I mreally thought I’d already hit rock bottom, but this— This is a shade of wretchedness I’ve never known.”-The nosta warmed at this sad speech, and Alizeh’s pliable heart felt a rush of pity, which she hated. She hated that she could not unceremoniously loathe him, hated that she could not shift the levers that ruled her emotions, hated that she was unable to power off compassion when the feeling was inappropriate.”

“She touched his arm. Or at least, she tried. Cyrus caught her hand before she even made contact, his reflexes so fast she hardly realized what’d happened until she saw, with some astonishment, that he held her limb upright before her eyes. His hand enveloped hers in both size and warmth as he studied her, his own eyes wild and wondering. Alizeh felt she couldn’t move; she was still as stone, marveling that she could perceive slight calluses against his skin when his fingers slid, in a stuttering pattern, down the undersides of her knuckles, inspiring a slow burn of sensation so unexpected she nearly gasped. Awareness quickened through her. He drew his hand slowly downward, grazing her palm until he’d clasped her wrist like a bracelet, his fingers pressing tenderly against her racing pulse. She wondered if he was counting the beats there, cataloging her reaction. “Alizeh,” he said, his voice low, heavy. He was looking at her like she might’ve been about to stab him through the heart. “What are you doing?”-“I wasn’t”—she shook her head, found her voice—“I swear I wasn’t going to hurt you.”-Cyrus dropped her hand like it had burned him, stepping farther away from her. He was breathing just a touch too fast, his eyes heavily guarded. “Then what were you going to do?”-She hesitated, deliberating over whether to admit the truth, and then feeling too stupid to do so. Again, she shook her head. “Nothing, I swear—”-“Alizeh.” He sounded angry now. “Why did you try to touch me? What is your game?”-“I was just”—she sighed—“oh this is ridiculous,” she said in a frustrated burst. “I was only trying to be sympathetic.”-He blinked at her, even as tension visibly fled his body. “You were trying to be sympathetic?” he echoed, his incomprehension palpable. “You mean—you were trying to console me?”-“Yes.”-He pointed at himself. “Me.”-“You know what?” An angry blush burned across her cheeks. “Never mind.”-Cyrus stared at her for a full second before he finally broke, and laughed out loud. “I tell you a single sad story and your defenses weaken that easily? Against me? You lovely little fool, you’re going to get yourself killed.”-“Oh, shut up.” She crossed her arms.-He shook his head slowly, closing the distance between them again, his eyes analyzing her carefully, lingering along the lines of her face. For a moment he almost looked as if he might touch her, though he never did.“Humor me,” he whispered. “What were you going to say? How did you intend to comfort me?”-“I don’t— I wasn’t going to say anything—”-“Were you going to tell me not to worry?” he said, still smiling. “Were you going to remind me that, though my life is essentially worthless, I should keep my chin up and look on the bright side?”-“No,” she said, hearing the breathless sound of her voice and hating it.-“I had no intention of feeding you such nonsense. I don’t see any bright side to this.”-He took a deep breath, his chest lifting with the effort. It was a long moment before he said, “You know, neither did I.”-Alizeh’s heart was pounding too hard. She didn’t know how the two of them kept finding themselves in these charged moments, and as a result she didn’t know how to escape them.”

“She pitied him even as she detested him, understood him even as she scorned him. He was a series of mystery boxes she wasn’t certain she wanted to open, and whose hidden depths tempted her even as they scared her. She didn’t know what she wanted from him—or whether she wanted anything at all—And then he touched her. He lowered his eyes and touched her, breaking the trance between them so abruptly Alizeh drew a sharp, unsteady breath. She watched him smile at the sound she’d made, laughing quietly to himself as he dragged his fingers lightly down the front of her gown, from just under her breasts to the apex of her navel. She tore away, but too late.“What are you doing?” she said, trying to call upon anger and struggling. Her head grew cloudy when he stood near, and she made a silent note to herself to keep distance between their bodies.-“I was fixing your dress,” he said, taking a step back. “I didn’t think you’d want to keep the stain.” “

“She nodded. “The same isn’t true in Tulan, though, is it? Your mother told me you’ve been studying divination and sorcery since you were a child, and it takes but one working eye to deduce there’s nothing even remotely priest-like about you.”-He froze, briefly surprised by the insult, and then laughed with his whole body, his shoulders shaking, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Heavens,” he said. “Tell me how you really feel.”-“Take care, Cyrus,” she chided him. “If you keep laughing like that, I’m liable to think you have a heart.”-“Oh, you needn’t worry,” he said, his smile fading. “I most certainly don’t.” The nosta went cold. Alizeh’s own smile faltered at that, some essential armor crumbling inside her. She suddenly didn’t know what to say. “Come along, then,” he said, quite literally moving past the moment as he strode to the door. “If you’re really so uninformed, I’ll show you how it works.”-“How what works?” She stared at him, unmoving. “And where do you mean to take me? Are we going into Tulan now?”-Alizeh saw only the back of his head when he said, “Yes.”-“Really?” She hurried after him. “And you’re no longer worried I’ll run away?”-“No.”-“Wait— Why not?” Alizeh stopped in place. “You should be a little worried, at the very least.”-“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” he said, finally turning around to face her. “For I’ve recently deduced that you’re quite charmingly pathetic.”-Alizeh stiffened, shock and outrage awakening in her body. “How dare you,” she said, drawing herself up to her full height, her fists clenching. “I am not pathetic—”-“I have a theory,” he said, cutting her off as he walked backward to the door, “that if I were badly wounded, you would help me. True or false?”-“False.”-His smile widened. “Liar.”-“I wouldn’t,” she said ruthlessly. “I’d leave you there and run for my life.”-He was fighting a massive grin now, his eyes glittering with barely suppressed delight. “You would save me.”-“I’d absolutely let you die.”-He shook his head. “You wouldn’t be able to leave me behind.”-“I would, too,” she insisted.-“You certainly should,” he said softly. “For it’d be terribly stupid to save me, and I didn’t think you were stupid.” “

““Why is there nothing out there?” she practically cried. “Why is this castle so strange?”-“Alizeh—”-“Is this actually a prison?” Her panic was escalating now. “Have you locked me in a tower? Am I never meant to leave?”-“Alizeh—”-“No”—she pushed at him, pushed at him until he let go of her, until he stumbled a few steps away from her—“I don’t like you, and I don’t trust you and I wouldn’t save you, you despicable, good-for-nothing, unprincipled reprobate—”-He grabbed hold of her shoulders anyway, tried to look her in the eye. “Alizeh, you infuriating girl, listen to me—”-“I certainly will not listen to you— And how dare you call me stupid and infuriating—”-“The stairs are made of glass.” “

““You know, you say my name a lot.”-“I say your name,” he said tersely, “a perfectly normal amount.”-“Do you really think so?” She peeked up at him, and he looked mad about it.- “Yes.”- “Well, I suppose that might be true,” she said. “It’s been so long since anyone has spoken to me in earnest that I fear I’ve lost perspective.”- He hesitated. “What do you mean?” “

““What are you— Oh, for heaven’s sake, are you going to cry again? I’ll take you to see the blasted city, Alizeh, I’ll show you the bloody magic, you don’t have to cry about everything—”-“I’m not crying,” she said irritably. “I’m thinking. Sometimes I get emotional when I’m thinking—”-“When you’re thinking? You mean all the time, then?” He pushed his hands through his hair and swore under his breath. “The devil really is trying to kill me.”-She wiped at her eyes. “I thought you already knew that.”-“All right, that’s quite enough out of you,” he said, and then he took her hand without warning, and tugged her out the door. “

“They’d been walking past a bakery when Alizeh had smelled the familiar scent, and after she’d commented aloud that in her life she’d only ever walked past bakeries, never stepping inside of one, Cyrus had expressed surprise. He’d asked her why she’d never been inside of a bakery, for “surely Ardunia was not so pathetic an empire as to lack such establishments,” to which she’d responded that Ardunia was “quite thick with bakeries, thank you very much,” it was only that she’d never had the time to visit one, for she’d always worked, at minimum, twelve-hour shifts, though even if she’d had the time, she’d reasoned, she’d “invariably lacked the money to purchase anything from such a place,” and as a result hadn’t seen the point in torturing herself with even the possibility of such decadence— Cyrus had abruptly taken her by the arm then, given her a strange look, and guided her toward the shop in question, into which they disappeared for a wondrous few moments, and emerged, shortly thereafter, with bread. Bread that Cyrus had purchased for her.”

““Did they make this with magic?” she asked Cyrus, still poking the soft interior. There were many little holes inside and she couldn’t imagine how someone might’ve scooped out bits of dough from the middle without disturbing the perfect, crunchy shell.-Cyrus, who was actually eating his piece of bread, was still chewing when he looked over at her, staring at her now like she might be touched in the head. He swallowed. “Please tell me you’re joking.”-“Well, if you’re going to be rude about it,” she said. “I’ll just keep my questions to myself.”-“Alizeh.” She pretended not to hear him.”

“Alizeh decided she liked bread very much.”

““Heavens, Alizeh.” Cyrus had gone completely slack. “You might be the strangest girl I’ve ever met in all my life.”-“Are you insulting me?”-“Without question.” She shot him a dirty look, but Cyrus only laughed.”

““What other essential things must I know about you?” Cyrus was saying. “Have you never had a glass of milk, for example? Have you never eaten a piece of cake? Do you need me to teach you how to use a knife and fork?”

““What?” He turned to look at her, and in an instant his frustration gave way to concern. This reaction was in and of itself something to wonder about, though perhaps some other time.-“What is it?” he said, stopping abruptly. “What’s wrong?”-She ducked her head and whispered, “Is it too late to put an illusion on me?”-Cyrus’s concern morphed into alarm. Immediately he looked up and down the street, then searched higher, scanning the sky. She realized he was looking for assailants.-“I don’t think anyone is trying to kill me,” she said lightly, trying for a bit of levity. “But I do think someone is following us.” “

“Alizeh lost her footing then, nearly falling over until Cyrus caught her and turned her firmly in his arms, hiding her face in his chest.“Please,” he whispered against her hair. “Please let me get you out of here— You’re not ready for this, and they’re not ready for you—”

“You must start with the prisons, Your Majesty!” another woman cried.

“Our brothers and sisters are treated worse than animals in the Soroot empire—”

“And in Zeldan—”

“They still bury the children in Sheffat—”

Alizeh absorbed each blow, each statement gutting her, every sentence cutting deeper, these reminders of her purpose, her duty, snatching the breath from her lungs.

“Does she not speak? I don’t understand—”

“The snoda from the castle, he said she’d spoken to him—smiled at him—”

“I thought he said she was here to marry the king—”

Alizeh gasped, her chest heaving.

“Our king? King Cyrus?”

“Alizeh, please, stand up— Alizeh—”-“Why do they like you?” she whispered, her lips moving against his throat, even as her head filled with static. “I thought they would hate you

—”

“Please, Your Highness,” a man shouted. “Say something—we beg you to speak—”

“Forgive me,” Cyrus whispered, holding her tighter. “I know you didn’t want me to, but I won’t wait any longer—”-“Cyrus,” she breathed, closing her eyes against the spinning world. “I think I’m going to faint.”

“My queen!” screamed the first woman, whose voice Alizeh suspected she’d remember for the rest of her life. “My queen, you’ve finally”—she gasped, still sobbing hysterically—“you’ve finally come for us, after all this time—”

Quite suddenly, they disappeared.”

“Alizeh could still feel those people—she still heard their voices—her lungs compressing under the weight of their hopes, her ribs cracking under the heft of their dreams. She’d never longed for her parents more than she did in that very moment, wishing for guidance, for someone to tell her that she was strong enough, that she was worthy. That she should rise, now, more than ever. That she would not fail if she did.“Alizeh,” he whispered. “You’re scaring me.”She heard his familiar voice and opened her eyes at the sound, searching for his face. Instead, everywhere she looked were flowers. She smelled grass, the welcome scent of overturned soil, the freshness of dew. Her wet cheek was pressed against the velvet petals of many tulips; a trio of bees were buzzing near her nose. She felt she might live here forever, might rest her weary head upon this flower bed and pretend, for a moment, that she was still a child. “Please,” said Cyrus. “At least tell me you’re okay.”-“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” she said, sniffing softly. She closed her eyes again, let the flowers dry her tears.-“What do you mean?” he said, alarmed. “Why impossible?”-“Well,” she said, “because I’ve recently deduced that you’re quite charmingly pathetic.”-He sighed. “Really? You’re choosing this moment to insult me?”-“And I have a theory,” she went on, “that if I were badly wounded, you would help me. True or false?” He went silent. He was silent so long Alizeh had time enough to watch a drop of dew drip off a glossy green leaf. “True or false, Cyrus?”-She heard his uneven exhale, the raw edge to his voice when he said, irritably, “False.” The nosta flashed cold.-“Liar,” she whispered.-“I don’t care for this game.”-“Where are we, by the way?” she asked, her eyes landing on a particularly purple tulip, the color so vivid it seemed imagined. In response, Cyrus did not say what was obvious, which was that they were in a flower field; instead he answered the more specific question she’d failed to ask, and said simply, “Somewhere safe.”-“Safe?” she said, managing a small smile. “Even with you here?”-It was a moment before he said, quietly, “Yes.” The nosta warmed.”

““The field exists simply to exist. There are thousands of different types of flowers here,” he explained. “It’s meant to be a kind of living painting; an experience with beauty meant to invigorate the tired senses.”-Alizeh nearly lifted her head, she was so surprised. “That’s why you brought me here?”-“Yes,” he said quietly.-“You mean, you were trying to console me?”-“Bloody hell, Alizeh, knock it off.”-“All right, okay,” she said with a sigh.-“Good.”-“Me?” she said again. “You were trying to console me?”-“You know what, you can walk back to the castle—”-“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I promise I’m really done this time.” She bit the inside of her cheek, and then—very, very softly—she said, “I do hope you know how grateful I am that you brought me here. It’s absolutely beautiful.”-“Yes, well,” he said, taking a sharp breath. “You strike me as precisely the sort of maudlin person who would appreciate the company of flowers while crying.” “

““Yes, I realize that, but may I ask anyway?” He sighed. “Why do you always wear black?” she said. “It doesn’t suit your coloring at all.”-“Pass.”-“You’re not going to answer?” said Alizeh, taken aback. “But it’s such a gentle question.”-“Oh, and you have less gentle questions for me, do you?” He didn’t sound happy about it.-“A great deal, in fact.”-“Once again, I’ll pass.”-“Cyrus,” she said patiently, “you can’t just ask a girl to marry you and then decline to answer a single question about yourself.”-“Try me.”-“Fine. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”-He cleared his throat and said, quietly, “Pass.”-“You do have siblings? Really? Where do—”-“Next question.” “

““I’m going to ask you possibly the harshest question now.”-“What?” he said sharply. Alizeh held her breath and waited, just until she heard him sigh. Gently, he said, “What is it?”-“Was your father— Was he a terrible man? Is that why you killed him?” “

““Cyrus,” she said finally. “Will you not answer me?”-“I don’t want to talk about my father.”-“But—”-“I won’t discuss it.”-“How am I supposed to trust you,” she said, “if I can’t understand why you did such a gruesome thing?”-“You don’t have to trust me.”-“Of course I do.” She frowned. “You’re making me enormous promises, and I have to believe that you mean them—that you’ll fulfill your end of the bargain—”-“I’ll make you a blood oath.”-Alizeh went very, very still. “No,” she said, exhaling the word. “Absolutely not.”-“Why not?”-“Because— Cyrus—”-“If you kill me, as we’ve agreed, none of it will matter.”-“But you’ll be bound to me—possibly forever—”-“Only if you don’t kill me.”-“And until then?”-He took a deep breath. “Well. Yes. Until then it’ll be fairly uncomfortable. Mostly for me.”-She shook her head against the flowers. “I won’t do it. It’s not humane. You’ll have no free will.”-He laughed bitterly. “And I suppose you think killing me is the more humane option?”-“Killing you was your idea!”-“This, too, is my idea. I don’t see why you’re being so obstinate—”-“Why won’t you just tell me your reasons?” she countered, frustrated. “Your mother said you did it because you claimed your father wasn’t fit to rule. Is that true?”-“My mother,” he said stiffly, “talks too much.”-“Cyrus—” “

“She watched his throat work as he looked at her, taking in every inch of her languid body with care. His eyes lingered in places, darkening with something she’d come to recognize as hunger. He regarded her then with an expression that came dangerously close to weakness, as if he couldn’t decide which part of her to savor longest, and his attentions, so intense, made her feel both desperate and unsteady, like she couldn’t breathe.“You took off your necklace,” he said with some difficulty.-“Yes.”-“Why?”-“I felt it was choking me.”-“Right,” he said, and dragged a hand down his face. Abruptly, he turned away.-“Cyrus,” she said after a moment. “Are you afraid of me?”-He almost laughed then, but his expression was strained. “What an absurd question.”-“Will you answer it anyway?”-“No,” he said drily. “I’m not afraid of you.”The nosta went cold.-“You are,” she insisted. “You think I’m going to hurt you.”-“No. I don’t.”Again, the nosta went cold.-“Cyrus—”-“Stop.” He was breathing harder than usual. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”-“But—” He made a sound, something like a hiss, his eyes squeezing shut as his body seized without provocation. He clutched his torso and doubled over, clenching his teeth as he sank slowly to his knees, and as he fell forward on his hands he gasped, then bit back a cry, and Alizeh, who was watching this unfold with increasing horror, realized that Cyrus was trying not to scream. She forgot herself. She forgot her own tired body and shot upright in fear, her head swimming only a little as she stumbled, steadying herself as she rushed toward him. “What’s happening?” she = said, stricken. “Why are you hurting? Let me—”-She touched him and he jerked away, forcing out a single word:“Don’t.”-“But—”-Cyrus’s head shot back in a sudden, violent motion, his eyes going wide as he paled, his skin taking on an ashen, sickly color. His body trembled, his chest heaving as he breathed, faster and faster, his face all the while frozen in a single, horrified expression. She knew then that he was seeing something. That he was hearing something.”

““No,” he shouted. “No—” He broke then, broke with an agonized sound as he collapsed forward, his shoulders shaking as he gasped for breath. “I can’t,” he said desperately. “I can’t, I’m sorry— Please—”Alizeh bore witness to the torture in his eyes. She heard the low, keening sound he made as a single tear, then another, tracked slowly down his cheek. She thought her heart might fail. She understood, rationally, that Cyrus was guilty of bringing the devil into his own life, but she didn’t know how to turn away from the suffering of others. She stood there and watched, horrified, while he begged blindly for mercy, as he flinched over and over like he’d been struck. Soon, a thin line of blood began dripping slowly from the crown of his head, then his nose. Cyrus wept. He pleaded even as he suffered, blood dripping into his open mouth as he spoke. “Not the other one,” he gasped. “Please, I’m begging you, don’t take the other one—”Cyrus would’ve died before exposing himself like this. Alizeh knew this, knew he would’ve willingly thrown himself off a cliff before betraying such emotion before her, and yet here he was, laid bare at her feet entirely against his will. She knew the mastermind behind this misery, and she suspected the devil was humiliating Cyrus on purpose—destroying him before her as a form of punishment, stealing from him his pride in the process, his privacy. She tried to avert her eyes, but how could she? When her pathetic heart snapped in half at the sight?”

“She was panicked, powerless in the face of his anguish, wishing stupidly that she might wrench him free from this trance, even as she knew any effort would be futile. For when Iblees invaded a mind, escape was impossible. No, Alizeh knew better. She was not naive; she understood that this episode had been orchestrated for her benefit. Iblees was torturing Cyrus in an effort to manipulate her sympathies. She saw her missteps quite clearly then, and with increasing despair, realized that she’d somehow betrayed herself. She’d started to like Cyrus. She’d begun to see him with complexity, with compassion. She did not, in fact, want to kill him. He was no longer a one-dimensional monster to her, but a perplexing character she hoped to understand. She’d given Iblees this ammunition. Indeed, Alizeh suspected she could put an end to this torment right now if she said but one word: yes. Yes, I’ll marry him. Oh, she was tempted.”

“She released a shaky breath. She could’ve prevented this. If only she’d been more guarded, if only she hadn’t cared. If only Cyrus hadn’t turned out to be so very, very human. Slowly, Alizeh fell to her knees. She took Cyrus’s limp hand in hers, and, like a fool, she cried for him.”

“In fact, just days ago he might’ve made some snide remark to his solemn valet about the waste of time, waste of fabric, waste of jewels. He’d thought himself above such frivolity, as he’d often described it. What was the point, he’d wondered, in such elaborate ensembles? What purpose did they serve? For eighteen years, Kamran had been a fool. A single day his grandfather had been gone, and already Kamran was beginning to understand that the hours the late king had spent in his dressing room were far from frivolous. In fact, they were a small mercy. While Kamran was being dressed, he could not be bothered. He was not asked to speak; he could not be questioned. There were no ministers to harangue him, no military maneuvers to put forth, no rivals to destroy.”

“It had been too soon. His grandfather’s scent had hung in the air not unlike a likeness of the man himself; his imagined form had been conjured from only sense and sensation. So powerful was this force that Kamran half expected Zaal to walk into the room at any moment, scolding him for the intrusion. Kamran had struggled to be surrounded by such potent memories; his chest had ached as he toured the museum of his grandfather’s life. The experience had affected him a great deal more than he cared to admit, for it betrayed a weakness in his character—a weakness of which his grandfather would’ve deeply disapproved. The prince closed his eyes on an exhale then, Zaal’s painful words reanimating, unbidden, in his mind— “Enough,” his grandfather said angrily, his voice rising an octave. “You accuse me of things you do not understand, child. The decisions I’ve had to make during my reign—the things I’ve had to do to protect the throne— would be enough to fuel your nightmares for an eternity.”-“My, what joys lie ahead.”-“You dare jest?” the king said darkly. “You astonish me. Never once have I led you to believe that ruling an empire would be easy or, for even a moment, enjoyable. Indeed if it does not kill you first, the crown will do its utmost to claim you, body and soul. This kingdom could never be ruled by the weak of heart. It is up to you alone to find the strength necessary to survive.”-“And is that what you think of me, Your Highness? You think me weak of heart?”-“Yes.”- Kamran’s eyes flew open. He felt his hands tremble and quickly curled them into fists, struggling to restore his confidence. Kamran liked to think of himself as a powerful, invulnerable force, but a single look at the last week of his life was enough to prove the truth: he was too easily ruled by his heart, too easily manipulated by his emotions. He was, in fact, weak. The realization made him nauseous, a wave of self-loathing roiling in his gut. Kamran had been better in command of himself when he was distracted, when Hazan demanded from him a sharpness of mind and wit, when he was moving fast and making plans. But in the wake of Hazan’s and Omid’s departures—and after he’d dispatched a letter to his aunt—he’d spent the better part of the afternoon evading the stammering servants intent on delivering him hand-printed notes from Zahhak, all of which requested his immediate presence in one of the grand parlors. Instead, Kamran had made himself scarce.”

“He’d felt them as they arrived, each new presence striking him like a tap against a tuning fork, a low level hum of electricity buzzing along the distorted gold veins of his body. It had frightened him, and like a child, he’d fled.”

“He didn’t want to hear them declare him unfit to rule; he didn’t wish to be sentenced to a distant province, where he might live in an old, dilapidated holding of the crown, accompanied by a brooding cook, a miserable maid, and an unhappy valet, none of whom would’ve willingly left Setar to keep him company. He was not yet ready for his entire life to change.”

“There was no reason Sina should suspect the prince of needing his cloak, for he’d done nothing to betray his intentions of leaving the castle at this hour. “I shouldn’t require my cloak,” he said quietly, “if I’m only going down to dinner.”-“Of course, sire.” Sina lowered his eyes. “It’s only that, earlier, one of the Diviners saw me passing in the hall and she bid me remind you that your cloak is hanging in your bedroom.”-Kamran stiffened. “Why would she say such a thing to you?”-“Forgive me, Your Highness,” Sina said, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”-Kamran’s heart was pounding in his chest now. Once again, he seemed to feel the electric hum of the Diviners’ presence, feel it spark along the glittering branches disfiguring his left arm. He didn’t know what this new sensation meant, but he suspected that, whatever it was, it wasn’t good.-“You may go,” he said. Sina retreated with another bow and without a sound—after which Kamran charged into his room, retrieved his hooded cloak from its hook, and stormed the halls of his own home. He was perturbed.”

“Omid, who’d failed him. Night had fallen an hour ago, and the child had only now returned? Inwardly, Kamran sighed. He was going out to the stables anyway; he figured he may as well track down Omid and take him along, assign him a new role, make the necessary introductions to the groom. Not only would this give him an excellent pretense for leaving the grounds wearing his cloak, but Omid would then become someone else’s charge, making him one less responsibility Kamran need worry about in his absence. Resolved, the prince followed the muted resonance of the boy’s voice, noting as he drew closer to the source that, even from this distance, Omid appeared to be deeply agitated. Kamran frowned. The boy was not, in fact, speaking; he was arguing, exchanging frustrations with what sounded like an angry footman—and no wonder. Omid was shouting in Feshtoon, clearly oblivious to the fact that most footmen in Setar would not be educated enough to speak the language of his southern province. Kamran picked up his pace then, striding impatiently toward the front hall, intending to resolve the matter at once—when he heard something altogether more upsetting. Miss Huda. Her voice was unmistakable, and Kamran experienced a spike of alarm at the sound. He could neither imagine why Miss Huda had returned to the palace at this hour nor what she was doing in Omid’s company, but the young woman was now screeching at the angry footman, her shouts growing only more shrill as she cried—“I most certainly will not step aside—and don’t you dare touch me—”-“Miss, please, you’re not allowed to be here—this is a private hour for the royal household, the prince does not receive unsolicited guests in the evening—”-“But she’s with me,” Omid said in accented Ardanz before giving up and carrying on in his native tongue. “We’re here on official orders! For the prince! You must let us pass!”-“Are you making any sense of this?” said a footman. “I can’t understand a word he’s saying—”-“What he’s saying,” Miss Huda interjected angrily, “is that we are here by order of the prince himself, and mark my words: my father, the Lojjan ambassador, will be hearing about this—” Kamran thought his head might explode. The audacity of this absurd young woman to invoke his name in the interest of her own immunity— Oh, he was already pitying himself for being forced to endure her company for the second time in the same day. He turned the corner too sharply, wishing he might leave these idiots to their fate when, suddenly, the entire abhorrent scene came into view. Kamran stopped short, his body going slack in disbelief.”

““Your associate?” Kamran said sharply, emerging from the shadows.-“Your Highness!” cried a chorus of breathless voices. All bowed and scraped before him in an almost choreographed motion, all but Omid, the boy peeling off from the crowd to approach Kamran with wild eyes, his head shaking hard as he spoke in rapid-fire Feshtoon:-“I swear I would’ve been here before nightfall, sire— I swear with my whole heart I would’ve— I brought them just as you asked, except there was a mob gathered outside the palace gates—”-“A mob?”-“Yes, sire, the people are very angry, sire, and the guards were threatening to pull up the drawbridge to prevent anyone from coming through until Miss Huda told them who she was and finally we did get through the gates but then they wouldn’t let us come through the front door because they said you weren’t accepting visitors but then we finally got through the door and then they—”-“Enough,” Kamran said.”

“Finally Kamran was left no choice but to face his strange audience, the odd group staring at him now with terror. The prince knew he’d no one but himself to blame for this shameful turn of events, and wasn’t sure then whether his anger was aimed more at himself, or Omid. Or perhaps even the infuriating Miss Huda. Quietly, he said: “Someone explain to me at once what is going on here before I have the lot of you carted off to the dungeons.” Omid and Miss Huda, so loud only minutes before, seemed incapable then of saying a word. Their mouths opened and closed as they shared frightened, uncertain glances, and Kamran thought he really might lose his mind when, finally, Deen stepped forward and broke open the silence.-“If I may, Your Highness”—he cleared his throat—“I’d only like to say that I, too, would love to know what is going on here, for I haven’t the faintest idea.”-Kamran raised his eyebrows. “How is that possible?”-“All I know, sire, is that the ruination of my day began when this young woman”—Deen nodded at Miss Huda—“barreled into my shop oh, about four hours ago and, without warning or even an introduction, began interrogating me—in front of my customers, no less—about someone I’d treated days ago, demanding all the while that I divulge confidential information to a complete stranger—which I feel I should point out is not only unethical, but illegal—and I was still trying to get the miss to leave the premises when this absurdly tall child”—he pointed at Omid—“barged into my store for the second time today, and this time demanded I follow him back to the palace or else hang at dawn for defying an order from the crown—”Kamran made a pained sound.“And then—and then these two hooligans”—Deen gestured vaguely at Miss Huda and Omid—“forged some spontaneous and no doubt nefarious alliance, after which they forced me into the back of a foul, rented hackney, where I was made to wait at least forty-five minutes before I was suddenly thrust into the very unpleasant company of the woman standing beside me now. I’m afraid I don’t know her name”—he turned to Mrs. Amina and muttered an apology, which she ignored with a scowl—“but she spent the entire ride moaning about how angry her mistress would be upon discovering she’d gone, for her mistress was in terrible spirits and she couldn’t be spared, especially not on such short notice—”-“All right,” Kamran said flatly. “I think I’ve heard enough.” Deen nodded, then stepped back.”

““Forgive me,” Deen said, frowning as he glanced around the group. “But were we brought in to be questioned about the same girl? The Jinn snoda who came to me for salve? If so, I cannot corroborate these stories, for I don’t know her name, and I’ve no notion of her attending a ball or causing any kind of trouble—”-“She was no ordinary snoda!” Mrs. Amina cried. “Don’t you see? I’d long suspected there was something the matter with her—she was always putting on airs, speaking all the time like she was some kind of toff—and I only blame myself, sire, for not exposing her sooner. I felt the darkness in her the first day I saw her, and when I watched her eyes change color right in front of me I should’ve known she had the devil inside her—”-“If anyone has the devil inside her,” Omid said angrily, “it’s you!”-”Vile girl,” Mrs. Amina was saying, ignoring this outburst from the boy. “Never liked her. She never followed instructions, you know. Always sloppy with her work, cutting corners—”-“Sloppy with her work?” Deen cut her off, his eyes wide with shock.“The girl who came into my shop with hands so destroyed by hard labor she could hardly make a fist?”He shook his head, took a sharp step away from the woman. “You’re the housekeeper who beat her, aren’t you? Don’t tell me you’re responsible for that infected cut across her throat, too?”-“Oh, no, sir,” Omid said quietly in Ardanz. “That was me.”-Deen looked suddenly revolted. “Who are you people? Pray tell me, what crimes have I committed to deserve the great misfortune of your company? I merely treated a girl for her wounds!” He looked beseechingly at the prince. “Your Highness, will you not allow me to return home? I’ve done no wrong here—I don’t deserve to have my name lowered by association with these heathens—”-“Hold a moment,” Kamran said, considering Deen closely. “You can confirm that the girl’s injuries were real, then? They weren’t the result of an illusion?”-“An illusion?” Deen hesitated. “Your Highness, I can’t imagine what reason she’d have to waste magic on torturing herself, but if for some inane purpose she’d managed to enchant her hands to ruin, I should think she’d have the ability to change them back. What need would she have of my salves if she could do such a thing on her own? No, sire, I don’t believe her wounds were any kind of illusion.” The apothecarist frowned then, appearing to remember something. “She did, however, discover in my presence that her body was able to heal itself at a more rapid rate than was normal, and removed her bandages after only days, instead of the week I’d suggested—”-“Heal itself?” Kamran repeated, going still. “Really?”-“Yes, sire.” Deen blinked at him, surprised by the prince’s interest. “Her skin recovered itself at a rather unnatural pace, which is not considered common even among Jinn—”-“A sign of the devil!” Mrs. Amina cried. “Here is proof!”-“Oh, do shut up,” Miss Huda said irritably.”

““This is utter rubbish,” said Deen, rolling his eyes. “If the girl had access to dark magic, do you really think she’d accept a pittance in exchange for scrubbing scum from your mistress’s floors? You think if she had access to dark magic that she’d willingly share a roof with a brutal housekeeper who clearly took pleasure in beating her? I should think not.”-Mrs. Amina gasped in outrage, took a step back, and promptly lashed out at the apothecarist, who rallied with ease. Kamran wanted to put an end to this madness, wanted to clear these clowns out of his home, but he’d discovered then—to his dismay—that he could not move. His pulse seemed to be pounding in his head, his heart beating violently against his chest. Bit by bit, he was being proven wrong about Alizeh. Having now been personally subjected to Cyrus’s manipulations of magic, Kamran could imagine that the southern king possessed the skills necessary to have imbued her garments with protections. Indeed it would make sense if he’d magicked the gown to protect her identity from those who wished her harm—for what else might explain why so few people at the ball had been able to identify her? What else would explain Cyrus’s cryptic statement, his subtle accusation that Kamran could see her? Alizeh’s gown had been incinerated, twice, as she entered and exited the fire. Perhaps in the process the frock had lost some of its effectiveness, blurring her from the crowd instead of blotting her out altogether. This might explain why Kamran’s eyesight had failed him with such inconsistency, why she’d seemed to fade in and out of focus before him; as Alizeh’s betrayals were revealed, he’d swung wildly between hatred and longing, wanting at once to kill her and save her. The magic had perhaps reacted to his warring emotions.”

“He felt at sea, drowning in doubt, and his frustration only intensified. This anger was directed toward himself, toward his grandfather, toward the circumstances that now defined his life. That King Zaal had died at all had been reason enough for Kamran to rage, but it was the aftermath, he realized, that had broken him the most, for in the wake of his grandfather’s murder, fear and grief had muddled the prince’s otherwise inviolable instincts, causing him to question everything that’d felt so certain only hours prior. Once again, his emotions had overruled him. Of all the trials ahead, Kamran was beginning to fear that his greatest obstacle would be overcoming himself.-“Your Majesty,” came Deen’s sharp voice, returning the prince to the present. “I beg you: please dismiss me from this circus. I should’ve been home for dinner by now, and my loved ones will begin to fear for my safety—”-“Loved ones?” Mrs. Amina made a sound of contempt. “You’ve got loved ones, have you? While the rest of us must marry our work, warm our beds with pain, and give birth only to bitterness—”-“Enough,” Kamran practically roared.””

““I don’t want to hear another word,” he said in a deathly whisper. “From any of you—” The words died in his throat. An eerie wave of sensation flared along his tortured skin as his heart thundered in his chest, the sound of his own breathing intensifying in his ears. He turned slowly, expecting to see a Diviner, and instead discovered Zahhak, the slippery man slinking toward him now with a cloying smile.- The defense minister came to a stop before him, clasping his hands as if in prayer. “I thought I heard a commotion,” he said, taking in the broad details of the unfolding drama with no apparent interest. He returned his blank eyes to Kamran. “I’ve been waiting for you all day, sire. Perhaps now, we might finally speak.” Another tremor of sensation awoke along the prince’s golden veins, just as three Diviners drifted suddenly into view.”

“When Cyrus had finally stopped seizing, the moon stood high and bright in the sky, and Alizeh had held on to this miracle of light like a lifeline, terrified she’d succumb to her own fears before he even awoke.”

“She’d mopped the remaining blood from his face with the skirt of her white dress, and used the wet of her own silent, unceasing tears to gently scrub the lingering stickiness from his eyes, his skin. Then, when none of this seemed to rouse him, she’d stroked his hair in careful, tender motions. Even then she marveled at the thick silk of his copper locks, the way they gleamed in the moonlight. She’d begged him to wake. He did not stir.”

“She should have rejoiced in his pain; she should have fled while he was unconscious; instead, she astonished herself by remaining firmly by his side, fearing for him, pleading with him to open his eyes. These were feelings she did not wish to examine.”

“When still he was unresponsive, her motions grew more assured, more intentional. She caressed him with great care, brushed the backs of her knuckles along the sharp line of his jaw, grazed the elegant slope of his nose. It was strange to see him so defenseless, his expression so unguarded. The harsh edges of his tense and stoic expressions were smoothed away in sleep, the planes of his face rendered milky in the starlight. She would never again deny that he was beautiful. She whispered to him over and over, beseeching him to return to his body, to this present moment, and was again stroking the curve of his cheek when he caught her hand—weakly—and she went suddenly, deathly still. Relief flooded through her even as her pulse sped up, for his fingers slowly closed around her own. He drew the back of her hand gently against his lips, and then, so softly she might’ve imagined it, he kissed her.”

““Touch me,” he whispered.-Her heart beat only harder. “What?” He released her hand, but only to press her open palm firmly against his face. For a moment his eyelashes fluttered, and then, quite contentedly, he sighed. Alizeh realized, with a shock, that he was dreaming.”

“He was sleeping, after all. He’d not meant to touch her like this. In fact, she knew him well enough by now to speculate that if he’d any idea his hand was right now resting in such a scandalous place under her skirt, he’d be horrified. He only needed a little rest, she reasoned. Perhaps if his hand stayed exactly where it was, things might turn out just fine. So when moments later he shifted an inch and his hand moved farther up her thigh, she nearly bit through her tongue to keep from making a sound. His fingers had much more than grazed the silky edge of her underwear, and Alizeh thought she might expire.-“Cyrus,” she said, panicking. “Please wake up.” He said nothing. “Cyrus—”-“Yes.”-Her heart was beating too hard. “Are you— Are you awake now? Please tell me you’re awake.”

““Cyrus,” she said, overcome with relief. “You’re awake—”-“Alizeh?” he whispered, exhaustion weakening his voice. “What are you doing here?”-“What do you mean?” She tensed. “We’re in the flower field, remember?”-“No,” he said, and he seemed to lose steam all at once, his head beginning to droop. “How did you”—he blinked very slowly—“how’d you get in my room? You’re not supposed to be here.”-Alizeh’s relief became alarm. “We’re not in your room,” she said, fighting back her panic. “It’s just that the sun has gone down, and it’s very dark now. And cold, actually, so if you wouldn’t mind taking us back—”-“I’m so tired, Alizeh,” he said, stumbling over the words. He sounded delirious. “Let’s go back to bed,-Alizeh.”-“Cyrus—”-He laughed a little, like he was drunk. “I do say it a lot.”-“What?” she said, going briefly still.-“Your name,” he said, and closed his eyes. He nearly fell over, catching himself at the last second. “I didn’t know your name for so long, angel. I love the way it feels in my mouth.”-Alizeh’s confusion was outweighed by the physical shock she felt at his casual affection, the endearment embedding in her chest, causing chaos. “Cyrus,” she said, feeling suddenly close to tears. “What’s happening to you? Are you sick?”-“Oh yes.” He nodded. “It’s t-terrible.”-“Is it magic?” Her fears ratcheted only higher. “Are you under a spell right now?”-“Mmmm yes always happens,” he murmured. “Part of the cycle.”-“What always happens?” she asked urgently. “What cycle? What are you talking about?”-He didn’t respond; instead, he clapped a heavy hand against his cheek and frowned. “Did you wash my face, sweetheart?”A new tenderness; another blow to her chest.-“Yes,” she whispered.-“How?” His hand fell away, and he squinted into the darkness. “Did you call for a maid?”-“No.” Her head felt strange. Overheated. This time when he swayed, he fell. Alizeh caught him with a soft oof, and his head landed with a gentle thud against her chest, where, without the heft of her golden necklace, the low neckline of her bodice was nearly indecent. Cyrus turned his head, pressed his face to the exposed skin of her breasts, and made a sound deep in his throat, something like a groan. “You’re so soft,” he said, slurring the words. “So sweet.”-(…….) “Listen, I know you’re very tired,” she said nervously. “But I need your help, sleepy boy. Can you do something for me?”-“Anything.” He drew his nose along the swell of her breasts, kissing the smooth skin there once, twice, until she made a desperate, broken sound and he swore, low, under his breath. “Alizeh,” he said, sounding drugged. “Can I taste you?” She was shaking so hard the tremors were beyond her control now, and if Cyrus weren’t half out of his mind she’d have been too mortified to speak. Her breath was coming in fast, in fits. She had to get herself in order or else she’d lose this struggle entirely.-“Listen to me,” she said breathlessly, “I need you to get us back to the castle. Can you please do that for me, Cyrus? Can you use a bit of magic to return us to the palace—” -“Mmm,” he said softly. “Yes, back to bed, warmer there—”-“No,” she hastened to say, “not back to bed, no bed, just the castle—”Alizeh bit back a shriek.”

“The sound of crickets gave way to silence, the chilly darkness replaced by pools of warm, dim light that illuminated the shapes and contours of lush, decadent quarters she had to assume belonged to Cyrus. And if this was his room, then she was lying on his bed.”

“He’d never been so vain as to linger before a looking glass, or even to catch a glimpse of himself in a reflective window, for of all the things he admired most about himself, his physicality was low on the list. Then again, he’d never had to care. He’d taken for granted his good looks. He’d long witnessed the effect he had on others; the way dilated eyes betrayed baser thoughts in his presence; the way young women trembled when he stood close enough. Kamran, like many people, was not insensible to a certain energy; he could feel a person’s desire. He could also feel their loathing.”

“With a start, he remembered what Alizeh had said to him on the night of the ball—how she’d suspected, as his body had sustained wave after wave of torment, that he might’ve had an aversion to gold. She’d suggested, as a result, that he cease wearing clothing woven with the glittering thread. It had been an interesting observation, for the gilded stripe that once neatly bisected his chest and torso had all but shattered across his body in an almost reactive manner. But as he adjusted his sleeves then, stalling as he turned Zahhak’s words over in his mind, he was reminded that even his mourning clothes glimmered in places with strands forged from the precious metal. In that regard, nothing had changed.”

““Minister,” Kamran said sharply, sparing a glance at his four, wide-eyed onlookers. “As you can plainly see, we have the distinct displeasure of an unexpected audience tonight. Perhaps this discussion should wait for another time.”-“I gave you multiple opportunities, sire, to have this conversation in private, but you ignored my every request. I’ve no choice now but to beseech you where we stand.”-Kamran went briefly light-headed with rage. “Get out,” he said, spinning around to face his unwanted crowd. “Go home. All of you. Now.”-“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” said Deen, holding up one finger, “for I would love nothing more than to leave, but I should require a carriage, for our hackney is long gone, and it isn’t possible to hail a hansom cab from the palace—”-“Out,” Kamran shouted, pointing at the door. “Get out and walk home, for all I care—”-“Walk?” Miss Huda gasped. “But it’s at least half a mile just to cross the bridge, sire, and it’s terribly dark and cold outside—”-“And there was a mob!” Mrs. Amina cried. “We might be set upon by bandits!” “

“He’d known this betrayal was coming and still he struggled to restrain his anger. “A critical ceremony,” he repeated. “A critical ceremony for what purpose, pray?”-Once more, Zahhak’s eyes lingered on the glittering striations upon Kamran’s face. “Surely you will wish to do whatever is best for the empire,” he said, baring his teeth in a smile. “The Diviners only want to be certain. They bound this magic to your body at birth with a power that was designed never to be undone. There’s no precedent for such a marking to mutate in this way, or for a body to reject it. You cannot be surprised by their interest.”-Kamran became suddenly aware of a presence behind him, an impulse pricking, alerting him to danger. He turned his head only halfway, spotting, out of the corner of his eye, the approach of the three Diviners—though how they managed to change positions so quickly, Kamran couldn’t imagine. He turned his gaze to the ground, struggled to remain calm. “You intend to take me by force?”-“During these dark times,” Zahhak said silkily, “it is of the utmost importance that we pledge our allegiance only to the true sovereign of Ardunia. Else we cannot be certain to emerge victorious. Surely, you can understand this.”-Kamran heard someone gasp at that, and was reminded, as renewed anger tore through him, of his unwanted onlookers. Very well. If Zahhak was going to intentionally humiliate him in front of an audience, Kamran would return the favor in full. “I understand,” the prince said darkly, “only that you’ve been eager to undermine me from the moment my father was murdered.You expected my grandfather to keel over shortly thereafter, didn’t you? He was over one hundred years old—his death must’ve seemed inevitable. But my grandfather lived too long, didn’t he? Just long enough to give me time to ascend the throne at a suitable age.” Kamran watched the older man stiffen, and took a careful step forward. “It must’ve been frustrating for you to see him live,” he went on. “For had both my father and my grandfather died in quick succession, I might’ve been crowned king as a mere child, which would’ve been a perfect storm of tragedies for a power-hungry man like yourself. I offer you my sympathies,” the prince said coldly. “It must’ve been a blow indeed, to have lost an opportunity to rule as regent.”-Zahhak’s nostrils flared, his anger surfacing only briefly before he regained control. Still, he spoke in an uncharacteristic rush when he said, “I’ve worked for this empire since before even your mother was born, sire, and to note the disparity between my sixty years and your eighteen would be to comment on the difference between a mountain and a grain of sand.” He, too, took a step closer. “That you lack the intelligence and experience necessary to rule Ardunia is a generous understatement. There is no sense in allowing a child to inherit the greatest empire in the world simply by order of birth, and I will not scruple to say that I resent the reward you were dealt for the mere effort of being born, a feat accomplished by millions of others who live and breathe today. “Your grandfather, on the other hand, was a great man and a great king, and I was proud to serve under him. But he destroyed his entire legacy by appealing, in a moment of weakness, to the most detested creature alive. Nearly a century he ruled our land, and now he will be remembered with only hatred and disgust. Yes.” Zahhak’s eyes glittered with menace. “Your grandfather lived too long. And I can only hope he hasn’t instilled the same terrible values in his grandson.”-Kamran felt his chest heave with fury. “Our king is dead less than a day,” he said, his voice rising an octave, “and you dare to speak of him with such vitriol?”-Zahhak narrowed his eyes. “That you still hold him in such high regard is damning indeed, sire.”-“It is a comfort to me,” Kamran said quietly, “to know that I was always right to loathe you.”-“As it is a comfort to me,” the minister countered, “to know that you will soon be returned to your truest form. Bereft of a crown, you are little more than a spoiled child, unseasoned and ill-informed, and altogether undeserving of the throne.”-Unexpectedly, Kamran smiled. “You take a great risk by voicing aloud your truths, Minister. With every word you put forth you walk yourself closer to your own funeral. Has it not occurred to you,” he said quietly, “to fear for the possibility that my crown remains firmly fixed upon my head?”-Zahhak swallowed, his jaw clenching. “Seize him,” he said. Kamran had hardly opened his mouth to speak before his lips were sealed shut, his legs pinned together, and his arms bolted to his sides. His mind screamed in protest as he struggled uselessly against his magical binds, his eyes darting back and forth in a terrible panic. Alarm bloomed through his body, awakening inside him simultaneous fear and rage. For the second time in less than a day he was paralyzed—though this time at the hands of the Diviners, the priests and priestesses who’d always loved and protected him, and upon whom Kamran had relied all his life. This latest blow of another savage betrayal rattled him to his core. He went suddenly weightless. The prince felt, more than saw, that he hung in the air, experiencing a strange emotional and physical detachment as his body was shuttled through space. He thought he heard a familiar, insistent buzzing sound, but then came the clamor of voices—a thunder of shouts and cries—and the din faded into nothing as he was forced, floating and paralyzed, from the room.”

“Kamran had been a spoiled child. He’d taken his life for granted; he saw that now. But never again would he be a child, and never again would he be cosseted. He’d been forced, unfinished, into this blistering kiln of change, and it had vulcanized him; it would continue to transform him. He could learn from his mistakes. He could adapt as the situation demanded. And he did not want to lose his crown.”

“Even as it killed him to imagine it, Kamran held fast to a single hope: that, after they ruined him tonight, he might still have time enough to dash to the docks to meet Hazan. He was worrying over this, clinging now more than ever to the idea that, in the wake of his metamorphosis, he might at least become his own man, avenge his grandfather’s death, and forge his own path-”

“Even Kamran, who was fairly stout of heart, shook inwardly at the thought of such a fate. How the Diviners intended to test him with this experience, he couldn’t know, and what he’d done to deserve this level of cruelty, he couldn’t imagine. He only hung there, suspended in the doorway of his disgusting new home for the length of a truly terrifying moment. It was pitch-black but for the glimmer of the moon and stars, for the tower had a single open-air skylight, which loomed from on high, at least fifty feet above his head. He had no idea what carcasses he might be forced to share this room with, and it made him ill to imagine he might leave this place only to have his head removed from his body. Fear awoke, untamed, inside his mind. How was this wretched place meant to prove his mettle? If only he could speak aloud a single word then, he would’ve begged for quarter. Why? he wanted to shout. Why are you doing this? What have I done to deserve such a sentence? Alas. Kamran hadn’t more than a moment to process this tyranny before his body was shuttled into the cell, the door slammed shut behind him, and he was finally, unceremoniously, released. He fell to the icy stone floor with a pitiful cry.”

“They were safely back in the palace, Cyrus was in bed, he no longer seemed to be in danger of kissing her, and now all she had to do was sneak out and slink back to her own quarters which was much easier said than done, for this palace was enormous and terrifyingly vertiginous. Alizeh had no idea where her rooms were positioned relative to his, but compared with all else, this seemed a simple enough problem to solve. First, she’d need to figure out how to exit Cyrus’s room without notice, and then she’d have to make certain to avoid running into Sarra, who’d no doubt want to discuss Alizeh’s progress on the path to murdering her son. Should she manage all this, Alizeh would only need to ask a few nosy, gossiping servants for directions to her room, all the while hoping the uninitiated among them would neither question who she was nor ask about the bloodstain on her skirt. Simple.”

“She knew better than to think his intoxicated actions tonight were indicative of some larger shift in their relationship. Cyrus had told her quite plainly just hours ago that he hated her, and the nosta had confirmed this. They’d enjoyed some reluctant and surprising moments of friendship, but she didn’t think it was enough to erase such passionate feelings of loathing, not when the agreement between them was meant to end with murder. Still, Alizeh was too reasonable to deny that, despite her many practical objections, she was intensely aware of Cyrus; there was no questioning that she felt a baffling, magnetic pull between their bodies. Then again, that didn’t mean she trusted him. And right now, she feared for him.”

“Alizeh did care. Ice ran through her veins, yes, but it had never made her coldhearted. She’d sat there and borne witness to Cyrus’s suffering. She’d cried for him.”

“Never would she have expected an uninhibited version of Cyrus to be so emotional or affectionate, but then—she didn’t actually know what she was dealing with, or what, exactly, he was going through. Whatever it was, this was not the real Cyrus.-“Will you help me?” she said instead. “I was trying to take off your coat.”-He said nothing, just looked at her, then at himself, partly divested of his jacket. In stark, childlike motions he removed the rest of the article, then shoved the garment halfheartedly away from himself. It toppled, with a slithering sound, to the floor. Alizeh promptly scooped this up into her arms, surprised by its weight, and draped it carefully on the back of a nearby chair. She turned around just in time to see Cyrus ripping off his shirt. Like dew in winter, she froze.”

“Cyrus was powerful. She didn’t know how else to describe the sight of him, stripped down to his skin. She didn’t know how to fathom into words the corded muscle that moved as he stretched, the sinewy lines of his body that snaked all the way down his torso. He gleamed in the soft light, the shadows carving him into a wonder so substantial she was disturbed by a sudden, stupid desire to touch him, to see what he might feel like under her hand. Cyrus paid her no attention. He pulled the shirt free, his hair suffering in the aftermath, and let the garment fall where it fell, not seeming to care for its fate. Alizeh watched him in a daze as he moved, riveted by the motions of his arms as he unbuckled his sword belt, marveling at the tension in the muscles flexing across his body, the tightly restrained power behind even his slightest movements. He let the precious holster and its weapon fall to the ground with a clatter, and Alizeh, who’d been in something of a trance, nearly jumped a foot in the air at the sound. But it was when he began unbuttoning his trousers that she turned sharply around with a stifled cry, covering her entire face with her hands. Oh, she was ashamed of herself. She’d been gawking at him brazenly, like an unprincipled deviant, her heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird, so fast it was making her feel ill. Heavens, but she’d forgotten herself. She was not an unprincipled deviant. She did not ogle the naked bodies of men under the influence of dark magic.”

““Alizeh,” he said again, this time softly scolding.-“Are you,” she said tremulously, “are you decent?”-She heard the low rumble of his laugh. “Yes.” Terrified, she turned around in slow motion. She discovered him still sitting up but was relieved beyond reason to find that he’d pulled the blanket around his lower body.-“Hello,” she whispered, lifting a hand in greeting, like the veriest idiot. He only looked at her in response, looked at her with manifest desire, his gaze darkening as he watched her, like he wanted to devour her. His eyes raked her face and body until she felt a liquid heat roil through her, tension coiling taut in her stomach. She took an unsteady step back.-“Come here,” he said roughly.”

“He did not lift his weary arms to draw the blanket above his shoulders, but here was where Alizeh walked away, for the truth was she’d reached her limit the moment Cyrus had removed his shirt. She swallowed. It wasn’t right to be so attracted to a man she was meant to kill. Besides, Cyrus had no idea what he was doing. He was out of his head, his common sense dimmed by something dangerous. If he had any idea of the things he’d said to her— If he had any idea how he’d been acting around her—Just then came a sharp knock at the door.”

“This small, distant window, he was realizing, was both a blessing and a cruelty in this dire place, for while it provided what was no doubt a welcome light during the day, it also exposed its prisoner to the elements at night—proving to Kamran once again that pleasure and torture were often delivered in the same blow. It made him think of Alizeh.”

“She spoke, and the Diviners had been slaughtered; she spun, and his grandfather had been murdered; she laughed, and his body had been disfigured; she breathed, and his mother had vanished; she sighed, and his aunt no longer spoke to him; she left, and his own people had turned on him. Kamran could not even hear her name without taking it like a shot to the chest. Even then, he wondered whether he’d ever see her again.”

“And then he wondered, as he shouldered the weight of his present failure, how long Hazan would wait for him at the docks tonight before giving up.”

“Kamran clapped his hands over his ears, falling hard on one knee as his head exploded.

“—have any idea that the nobles were reconsidering his right to the throne? How cruel—and in the wake of his grandfather’s murder—”

“I don’t know, miss, his grandfather wasn’t a very good person—”

“Oh, I only meant that it must be hard for him, you know, to deal with all these revelations—”

“Where is it?! I know you know where it is, and I demand you tell me—”

“I can’t believe I’m helping you hooligans. I was supposed to be at home hours ago—”

“Kamran, you idiot. What have you gotten yourself into now? Come along then, pet, thank you for telling me—”

“—can’t just leave him in there! Omid, do you remember which way they turned after that?”

“—already searched the king’s rooms! I couldn’t find it!”

“At least that horrid housekeeper is no longer with us—”

“Yes, miss, I followed them all the way up—”

“—didn’t see you? How did you manage that?”

“—a long time, sir, being a street child means learning how to disappear in plain sight and I—”

“Hazan!”

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here—”

“Why are you protecting him? Where did you take him? Why are you willfully jeopardizing the future of this empire—”

“—the hell are you two doing here? And—aren’t you the apothecarist?”

“Your cloak weighs heavy tonight, sire.”

“Yes, I’m an apothecarist. Who are you?”

“—saving the prince!”

“It’s my duty to assume control of the throne! You must tell me where it is! It’s my right! It’s my—”

“You should turn out your pockets, child, and unburden yourself.”

“—what have you done with it? Where did you put it?”

“Turn out your pockets, child.”

“Turn them out.”

“Turn out your pockets.”

“DO IT NOW—”

With a rising, whistling shriek that nearly took off his head, the voices were suddenly ripped out of his mind, leaving in their absence only a lingering scream that all but blew out his eardrums.”

“He felt an unexpected warmth of moisture at his ear and lifted an unsteady hand to inspect it, his fingers coming away smeared with blood. Kamran’s heart was pounding. He didn’t understand what’d just happened, but he was aware enough to fuse together what seemed the most likely theory: that this experience could only have been crafted through the use of magic, which meant the Diviners must’ve been trying to communicate with him. Turn out your pockets. These cryptic words made no sense. There was nothing in his pockets save a bit of gold, Alizeh’s book, and his chain mail mask, and last he’d checked, none of these things was a sledgehammer, which was the only item he truly cared to possess at the moment.”

“Kamran’s hands stilled, then, as he felt the shape of something unfamiliar in his interior cloak pocket. Carefully, blinking to clear his blurry vision, Kamran withdrew a small, rectangular package from his pocket. It was a slim box wrapped in brown paper, tied with simple red twine. He recognized the gift at once, the significance hitting him with an astonishing blow. His understanding of the moment was indeed so powerful, so fiercely unsettling that he felt his eyes prick with emotion. The late Diviners had given this to him days ago. Before they’d been murdered, before his home had been invaded, before his grandfather had been killed, before he’d ever known the satin of Alizeh’s skin. It was because of this package that he’d arrived at all in the Royal Square; the Diviners had summoned him for a visit that day despite the fact that he’d never announced his return to Setar. He’d awoken early to avoid the crowds that would inevitably swarm the streets, and was making his way to the Diviners Quarters when he was stopped in his tracks at the sight of what he thought was a grown man about to murder a servant girl. This moment. It had changed the course of his entire life.”

“The prince, who’d been by then accustomed to receiving small gifts on occasion from both Diviners and commoners alike, merely tucked the parcel into his cloak pocket, meaning to open it at a later, less chaotic moment. It had remained here ever since.”

“Then, his heart pounding in his chest, he looked inside the box, within which he discovered a single black feather, resting in a bed of linen. At first, he did not understand. He scrambled to unfurl the paper, which he quickly held up to the moonlight, and in the distant glow he was able to discern that the scrap was but a piece of a much larger document. It was a small slip of paper with torn edges, and its pale skin had been printed upon in the neat, careful script of his grandfather. It read: leave this feather to my grandson, to use only when all else seems lost, when his tragedies feel insurmountable, and hope feels impossible. He will need only to touch it to his own blood, and Simorgh will come for him, as she once did for me. I also leave him my

There, the message was cut off, and Kamran’s heart sped up to a truly frightening pace; suddenly he could hear nothing but his own breaths, the harsh sounds echoing between his ears, his mind spinning as the world around him seemed to fracture and reassemble, fall apart and resurrect. Still, he did not hesitate. Kamran pressed the feather into his bloodstained hand and, with a shaky, terrified breath, he closed his fist.”

“ONE NIGHT WAS BORN

a royal child

Windows shattered

the rain was wild

The queen rejoiced

The king ran inside

He looked at his son

his eyes went wide

The baby had hair

the color of milk

His body was healthy

soft as silk

Still the father was frozen

He did nothing but stare

at the white of his lashes

and the white of his hair

You’ve birthed an old man

was all he could say

This child is cursed

and he tore him away

The mother then cried

The babe did, too

He cried in the way

babes often do

Amid protests and screams

that terrible king

strapped the child to his back

and did a terrible thing

He climbed a mountain

his arms growing stiff

Left the baby to die

at the top of a cliff

The wind was screaming

the child was, too

He screamed in the way

children often do

when their parent

is vile

and stupidity reigns

when delusion

wins

and intellect wanes

From on high watched a beast

who didn’t like what she heard

Simorgh, Simorgh,

a magnificent bird

Her heart was unmatched

her magic unknown

She snatched up the child

to raise as her own

With four other chicks

the boy grew in her nest

He was happy and loved

and knew he was blessed

She warned him that

one day

he’d have to return

to a life he’d not known

to a role he’d not learned

He rejected this warning

but Simorgh insisted

His destiny was written

it could not be resisted

News reached him one day

that a woman still cried

That an empire was failing

that his father might die

Simorgh brought him finery

that he wore without joy

to return to the palace

he’d not known as a boy

He said his farewells

with an ache in his heart

to the family he’d chosen

whom he’d loved from the start

Then he seated himself

on his mother’s back

and she tore through the sky

with a deafening crack

Color exploded

when she took flight

She landed at the palace

in a shower of light

None would forget

the day Zaal had returned

The way the world brightened

the way his father had burned

Zaal took the throne

he was always meant to claim

But he would never forget

his true mother’s name”

“She realized only then, as she looked around, that she’d formed no expectations at all of Cyrus’s personal tastes. He never wore anything but black; she’d not assumed he had any interest in color or comfort, and was stunned to discover that he’d hidden away such a beautifully appointed space. She stood then in a well-worn sitting room anchored by a rug of astonishing detail, rendered in vivid shades of blue; the space itself was furnished with cozy, lived-in seating, floor-to-ceiling shelves stocked with tattered books, and a titanic fireplace before which stood a colossal, weathered desk stacked with papers, pots of ink, and various bell jars through which gleamed specimens of crystallized rock, each neatly labeled.”

“Even she could see how it looked: any who doubted her would assume she’d taken advantage of Cyrus’s torture—and subsequent torpor—to trick the king into bringing her into his private rooms, whereupon she’d forced him into bed only to then break down a locked door and rifle through his personal belongings. It made her seem fairly diabolical. She bit her lip. Such a story was false, of course, but she could not deny an urge to be just a little diabolical, for the desire to rummage through his things was agonizing. This room was a veritable museum of wonders, dotted not merely with fascinating artifacts of Cyrus’s life, but with evidence of his state of mind, his current pursuits and interests. She felt certain there were answers here—clues to a series of mysteries she might otherwise never be able to solve— And then, with a start, she saw the cabinet.”

“She drew inches deeper into the room, feet moving toward the chest almost without her permission. The broken door groaned quietly open behind her, but she paid it no mind, for the maid was gone, the wing was quiet, and she felt quite certain Cyrus was asleep. She clasped her hands to keep from touching anything, but as she approached the cabinet, she felt her fingers flare with heat, proving a deliciously strange sensation for a girl with ice in her blood. The closer she drew, the more Alizeh felt almost tethered to this odd piece of furniture, as if she were compelled to approach it, as if it contained something that belonged to her— Slowly, the cabinet began to tremble.”

“Alizeh hardly dared to breathe as she peeked into the deep, gleaming compartment—and in an instant, her mind came unraveled. The heavy furniture had not ceased its shaking, the tumult growing only more frenzied, but Alizeh found she no longer cared to be quiet. She wanted to scream. She felt betrayed and confused, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. Carefully she reached inside, her hand glowing so hot it hurt, and attempted to retrieve what was hers, what she’d worried she’d lost—and the door snapped shut so quickly it nearly took off her fingers. The cabinet went eerily still.And Cyrus, damn him, was fast.To be fair, Alizeh had been preoccupied and the room had been rattling, but that he’d approached her with this degree of stealth—such that she’d not even sensed his presence—was truly impressive. She could not know how he’d done it; she had no idea what he’d seen or how, exactly, he’d spun her around and cornered her. She knew only that Cyrus was about to show her exactly why so much of the world feared him, for she was pinned against the wall, and there was a sword pointed at her throat.”

““Why,” she said, lifting her eyes to his, “do you have my book?” He faltered at the murderous look on her face, his anger fracturing as warring instincts inside him fought for dominance. She could see his inner conflict—could see his twinge of remorse even as his resentment percolated. Alizeh was not without an imagination: she saw why he might think she’d betrayed him when faced by ample evidence that she’d broken into his locked room—and she did not blame him for doubting her. How could she, when she understood how he felt? Of course he didn’t know whether he could trust her. But neither did she know whether she could trust him. His blade was beginning to dig into her throat, and she worried, for a moment, that he might actually hurt her. “Cyrus,” she said. “I asked you a question.”-“I stole it,” he said quietly.The nosta warmed against her chest.-“When?” she said, her heart failing. “Why—?”-“Days ago,” he said, his halting whisper betraying his guilt. Still, he did not lower his weapon. “I replaced it with a decoy enchanted to look identical.”-“You went through my room at Baz House,” she said, astonished. “You searched my things—”-“Yes.”-“You lied to me.”-“Technically,” he said, “I did not.”-“Don’t you dare speak to me like you’re an idiot,” she said angrily, the blade cutting her just a little as she spoke. “You understand very well what I mean.”-“Stop moving,” he said, furious. “This sword is devastatingly sharp—”-“Then lower your weapon, you scoundrel!”-He did, but only enough so it was no longer touching her. “Are we back to this, then?” He swallowed, staring at the cut at her neck. “Insulting each other?”-“You dare mourn the loss of my goodwill,” she whispered, “even as you hold a blade to my throat.”-“And you,” he countered, his voice dropping an octave. “You have the audacity to rebuke me, when I’ve discovered you doing the same detestable deed, breaking into my rooms to search my private belongings—”-“I didn’t mean to break the door!”-“You chose to ransack my things,” he cried. “Meanwhile I was forced to rummage through yours!” Slowly, as if heavy cataracts were clearing her eyes, Alizeh began to see what Sarra saw. It’s not that I do not care, the woman had said. It’s that I no longer believe him. For the last several months, my son has blamed all his bad decisions on the devil. Never does he take accountability for his actions. He’s always begging me to understand that he has no choice—Alizeh felt suddenly, dangerously ill.She did not ask Cyrus how he’d done the hateful deed, for he’d accomplished things far more complicated than breaking into her unlocked, humble closet of a bedroom; it had likely taken him minutes to accomplish this trifling chore.”

“She ached at the betrayal, at her own stupidity, at her idiotic weaknesses that had led her to be kind to him. She hated herself for ever admiring him, for crying for him as he’d screamed, for mopping up his blood and all but tucking him into bed. He’d bought her a piece of bread and her charity had been so easily purchased, her porous heart so easily moved. She’d really thought perhaps they could be something like reluctant friends. Oh, she was a fool of astronomical proportions. He would never be on her side, she was realizing. No matter his occasional moments of humanity, Cyrus was in bed with the devil.”

““Cyrus,” she said softly. “Give me back my book, and I give you my word I won’t hurt you.”-It seemed like an eternity before he said, thickly, “I can’t.” The nosta flashed hot against her skin.-“Very well.” She lowered her eyes. “I just want you to know, in advance, how sorry I am. You’ve already been through so much tonight. I really don’t want to do this.”-“Alizeh—” She moved in a flash, striking his sword arm before throwing a kick to his side in a rapid combination that briefly unbalanced him, even as his blade nicked her throat, drawing a thin line of blood.”

““You kicked me,” he said angrily.-“You cut me,” she countered.-Something awoke in his eyes at that, a moment of misery there and gone, before he carefully lifted his blade, meeting her challenge. Quietly, he said, “Do you intend to fight me?”-“Are you going to prevent me from retrieving what is rightfully mine?” she asked, lifting her chin. “If so, yes.”-“How did you even know it was here?” he asked, advancing slowly.-“How did you know to come searching for it?”-“I had no idea it was here,” she said indignantly. “I already told you, I broke down your door by accident—”-He laughed, darkly. “And you snapped open the lock on my cabinet by accident, too?”-“I didn’t even touch it. It opened on its own.”-“What?” He stopped moving. “What do you mean?”-“Maybe you should first explain to me why you even have a locked cabinet inside of a locked chamber,” she said angrily, “in your own locked wing of the castle!”-“You ask this even after you’ve destroyed my door?” he said, losing control of his temper. “It’s obvious to me now that I should invest in even greater levels of protection, for there are demented Jinn running around breaking into my quarters and rifling through my things!”-She gasped. “I am not a demented Jinn, how dare you—”-“I am going to ask you one more time,” he said, marshaling his patience, “to tell me how you knew it was here, Alizeh—”-“Or what?” she said. “Or you’re going to kill me? I thought you weren’t allowed to kill me.” “

““That book,” she said, incensed, “is mine. Mine by birth, by order of the earth. It knows me. I felt its presence when I approached the cabinet, and it unlocked itself to reach me—I did nothing but—”-“Unlocked itself?” He looked up sharply. “You mean it displayed some kind of power on its own?”-Alizeh laughed then, finally understanding. “Poor, tormented Cyrus,” she said, her voice softening. “All this time, you’ve been trying to make it animate, haven’t you?”-“Yes.”-“You will fail.”-“Why?” he said urgently. “Why can’t I open it?”-“Aren’t you meant to wield great power?” she parroted back at him. “How is it you’re so unschooled in the workings of magic?”-“Alizeh—“-“More important, why would you think I’d ever tell you?”-Cyrus was breathing hard now, staring at her with something like desperation. He dropped his sword to the floor with a sudden, terrifying clatter. “Please. Tell me.”-“I will not,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Unlike you, I’m not bound to share my secrets with Iblees. Now give me back my book, or pick up your weapon.”-“I won’t fight you.” He shook his head. “Forgive me. I never should’ve lifted my sword against you.”-“Why not?” She bristled. “You don’t think me a worthy opponent?”-“You,” he said ardently, “have always been too worthy. I will not hurt you.”-The nosta burned against her skin. Alizeh fought back a shock of feelings then, her heart convoluted, impossible to parse. Struggling to clear her head, she said, “You don’t need to worry about hurting me. I’m quite capable of defending myself.”-“Alizeh,” he whispered. “I would destroy you.” This made her mad.”

““Give me back my book,” she cried. “It belongs to me!”-Cyrus shook his head slowly, staring at her in wonder. His chest was heaving slightly, his voice only a little breathless from his recent efforts. “Marry me,” he said.-Alizeh tightened her grip on her weapon, her eyes widening in outrage. “You think this is funny?”-“I’m not joking.”-“Give me my book right now, or I swear I’ll tear this room apart.”-“Alizeh,” he said, shaking his head. There was a warning in his voice.“Please don’t test me.”-“Why not?” She was sincerely asking the question. The longer she stared at his heated eyes, the more she lost confidence in herself. “What are you— What are you going to do?”-“Touch my things,” he said softly, “and I will physically remove you from this room.”-“You wouldn’t dare,” she said, but weakly, for she didn’t know whether he would. “Would you?” “

“He said her name like an epithet, the sound lancing through her like a blade. She looked up in time to see that he was advancing toward her now with a fiendish gleam in his eyes, like he was going to pick her up and throw her over his shoulder and—and do something, she didn’t know what, and she quickly spun around, swinging her sword toward him, pointing it in his direction to keep him where he was.-“Don’t take another step,” she said, panicking just a little. There was something terrifying, yes, but also glorious about Cyrus as he stood there, shirtless and unrepentant, without a weapon, entirely unafraid. She was actually trembling a little. He did not strike her as the kind of person who bluffed.-“You forgot,” he said softly, touching his hand to the blade she pointed at him, and making it disappear. “That I don’t fight fair.”-Alizeh stumbled back and stared, in astonishment, at her empty hands, and then up at him. Cyrus wasted no time closing the distance between them, moving now with unrelenting determination. She hurried backward desperately.-“Don’t you dare pick me up,” she cried, her heart racing in her chest. “I just want what’s mine! It’s not polite to pick people up against their will!”-Inches away, Cyrus came to a halt.-“It’s not polite?” he said, stunned. “Alizeh, it’s not polite to break into people’s private rooms. It’s not polite to tear down people’s doors and destroy their things—”-“For the hundredth time,” she said, exasperated, “I broke your door by accident! I was only trying to find a place to hide before the maid walked in!””

““Yanked it open?” he cried. “You practically tore the door off its hinges!”-“I know that, and I’m sorry! Sometimes—not often—but sometimes, when I’m in a panic, I forget how strong I am, and I break things, and I’m very sorry.” She was wringing her hands now. “I swear, I’d fix it if I could, but I’ve never been any good with carpentry; though I did once, in one of my other positions, have to mend the legs of a chair I’d accidentally snapped off, and which I managed to repair, luckily, with a rather powerful adhesive before the housekeeper found out—”-At that, the fight seemed to leave his body. “Alizeh,” he said, turning away with a sigh. “You don’t have to fix my blasted door.”-“Nevertheless,” she said, swallowing. “While it should be noted that I’m still furious with you for stealing what’s mine, I swear I didn’t enter this room with malicious intent.” “

““Here, Alizeh,” he said patiently. “Not this room. What are you doing here, in my wing of the castle? All this time I’ve been operating under the assumption that you snuck in when the maid opened the door, but now I’m just . . . confused.”-At that, Alizeh went still. She was quiet for a long, tense moment before she said, finally, “You don’t remember any of it?” “

“CYRUS STARED AT HER, HIS confusion transforming into something like fear.“Remember any of what?”-His stricken expression inspired a pang in her heart, for the insensible organ had no brain and could not be reasoned with. Alizeh was angry with him, and still she softened. “You don’t remember,” she said, “what happened in the flower field?”-There was a long beat during which Cyrus averted his eyes, his throat working. “I do remember,” he said finally.-“What’s the last thing you remember?”-“What do you mean?” He did not look up.-“Well, do you remember talking to me?”-“Yes,” he whispered.-“And then?”-“And then,” he said, and sighed, looking suddenly, intensely uncomfortable. “Then, I experienced some pain.” She hated the way he said it, hated the way his voice hollowed out. As if his suffering were something inconsequential and fleeting, as if it weren’t actual torture, as if she hadn’t sat there and watched as blood dripped down his closed eyes and into his open, screaming mouth.-“I think it was a fair amount worse than that,” said Alizeh.-“I don’t know what you saw.”-“A great deal,” she said quietly. “I saw a great deal.” “

“Finally, he looked up, perplexed even as he shook his head. “Why would you challenge this? Alizeh, when I came to, you were gone. I brought myself back to the palace alone—”-“How would I have left?” she asked, cutting him off. “We were in the middle of nowhere.”-“I don’t know,” he said dismissively, as if this were a trivial point. “You are not without your own resources. You have supernatural speed—clearing a couple of miles wouldn’t take you very long, and if you walk far enough through the field, there’s access to the main road. The castle is quite visible in the distance. I assumed you snuck back in here only to retrieve your book before running away.”-Alizeh drew a deep, steadying breath. She knew now that she’d have to prod his memory, and while she suspected that the truth would hurt him, this—him thinking she’d abandoned him in that state—struck her as far worse. If nothing else, her pride couldn’t handle it. “I never left you,” she said, steeling herself. “I sat there for two hours while you suffered, and I used my own dress to wipe the blood from your face. I begged you to wake up. I begged you to bring us back to the palace—”-“No,” he said, “no, you . . .”- (…..) “Cyrus,” she said. “I didn’t leave you there.”-He was breathing hard now, his body turning to stone before her. He seemed paralyzed by this revelation, astonished into speechlessness. Finally, he said, “That wasn’t a dream?”-“No,” she whispered.-“Fucking hell.” He pushed a hand through his hair and looked away, his body so tight with tension she worried he might break.-“What— What did you think happened?”-“I thought I was in bed,” he choked out. “I thought I was sleeping—”-“But how did you think you got back to bed?” she pressed. “Who did you think took off your boots, or your bloody coat?”-He shook his head. “In the aftermath of these—experiences—I always”—he hesitated—“I often sleep for a time, because it takes me a while to recover. Still I somehow get myself into bed. No matter the circumstances, I manage, in the end, to take care of myself, even if I can’t always remember doing so. It didn’t seem important how I got myself in bed—only that I did get myself in bed. I didn’t question it.”-“I see,” she whispered.-“You were in my room,” he said thickly, “because I brought you there.”-“Yes.”-“And you—” He looked up, distraught. “You took care of me. You washed the blood from my face.” “

““I just don’t understand,” he was saying. “How did you wash my face when we had no water?”-At that, Alizeh felt the prickle of something like embarrassment. How could she put into words an explanation that, when spoken aloud, sounded melodramatic to the extreme? At the time she’d seen only a person in need; she’d not questioned the impulse to assist; she’d not thought she might be overreacting. Now she wasn’t so sure. Nervously, she clasped her hands. “I did use my skirt to mop up most of the blood,” she said, fixing her eyes firmly on the floor. “But then— Then I used the moisture of my tears to scrub away the sticky residue.”-Cyrus was silent for a frighteningly long beat. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, his astonishment palpable.“You cried for me?”-“It has been noted,” she whispered, “that I perhaps cry too much.”-“You used your own tears,” he said, all but broken, “to wash the blood

from my face?” “

““Why did you do it?” he said, his voice strained. “Why were you so kind to me? I’d heard someone crying, but I thought the sounds were part of a dream, or a hallucination. God, the way you touched me—” He cut himself off, his expression tortured. He shook his head, dragged a hand across his mouth. “Alizeh, my own mother has never touched me with such tenderness. I didn’t think there was any chance you could be real.”-She didn’t know what to say. Her heart was beating so hard she could hardly hear her own thoughts. Cyrus had looked at her many times since she’d met him, and always with varying levels of intensity, but never quite like this. Never like he wanted to fall to his knees before her. She heard her voice shake a little when she said, softly, “I believe the words you used to describe me were quite charmingly pathetic.” “

““Will you tell me what was happening?” she said instead, hoping to somehow dull the fire in his eyes. “You told me that this always happens to you, that it was part of a cycle.”-“Yes,” he said, but the word was raw, worn out. “It’s a medicinal sleep. It always puts me into a strange fog. Afterward, it’s the only way to keep me alive.”-Alizeh paled. “You mean Iblees tortures you nearly to death and then brings you back from the brink—just to do it again?”-“Yes.”-She thought she might be sick. “Does he do this often?”-“Yes,” he said softly.-“How often?”-“It depends.” He swallowed. “Sometimes twice a week.”-She clapped a hand over her mouth and made a sound, something like a sob. Cyrus only looked at her, looked at her with the same, unremitting heat in his eyes and said nothing. A heavy silence descended between them, the quiet thick with things unspoken. Something had changed in the wake of these revelations, and Alizeh wasn’t sure she could define it. She knew then only what she saw, and what she saw was a version of Cyrus she’d never seen before.”

“What’s more, he had touched her—drawn his hands down her body, pressed his lips to her skin—and now they both knew it. Alizeh hadn’t really allowed herself to think about what’d transpired between them, for she’d filed away his delirious words as inadmissible testimony; she’d not thought it fair to consider his drugged actions as evidence of overarching feelings toward her. But the longer he stood there without speaking aloud a retraction—without issuing an apology or denial—the more she wondered whether he stared at her now not with fear, but with longing. He moved slowly then, shattering the silence with his quiet movements, closing the inches between them until the memories of him came back to life with a fever that seared her. She could still hear the crickets, could still see the moonlight on his face. She doubted she’d ever forget the desperate way he’d asked if he could taste her, the sound he’d made when he pressed his face to her breasts. Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. He was close now, his eyes bright, burning. She’d never seen such tightly restrained emotion in his face or in the lines of his body. His desire was so potent it was intoxicating; she felt herself tremble under the weight of it. He wanted to touch her—she knew this, she saw it in the rigid control he maintained over his hands, in the stiffness of his stance, in the way he moved incrementally closer until she saw nothing but him. His eyes dropped to her lips and his own lips parted, drew breath. He exhaled shakily. She worried that if she said a word, she might combust. “I touched you,” he said softly. “Do you remember?” “

“He whispered, “And do you condemn me for it?” He tilted his head, his lips almost grazing her cheek, and the harsh sounds of her own shallow breaths grew only more desperate. She didn’t know when he’d gotten so close, but he now occupied her senses entirely: the heady scent of his skin; the sight of his naked chest; the sound of his beating heart. She lacked only touch, only taste, and she ached for it. Her mind was gone; she couldn’t even remember her own name standing this close to him. She knew, dimly, that this was a bad idea, that she was playing with fire, but Alizeh had survived an inferno once, and she thought she might survive such a blaze again.-“No,” she breathed. She saw a shudder move through him, a heavy exhalation that rocked his frame. He made a desperate, broken sound as he closed his eyes, but still, he didn’t touch her. He wouldn’t put his hands on her, wouldn’t put an end to her torment, and she was far too conflicted, even then, to claim him for herself.-“Alizeh,” he whispered. “Let me make you my queen.” It was a cold, sharp snap of reality. “

““I made my intentions clear from the beginning, Alizeh, I want to marry you—”-“The devil wants you to marry me,” she exploded. “That’s not at all the same thing! How can you not see—”-“Marry me,” he countered, “and you get your crown, the devil is briefly sated, and I’m discharged, in great part, of my debt. We all get something we want. Why is that so wrong?”-“It’s one thing,” she said angrily, “to enter into a false arrangement in the pursuit of our own interests. But this— Cyrus, this wouldn’t be false, and it would complicate everything. What were you going to do? If I kissed you? What would come next?”-“I would marry you,” he said, stepping closer again, coming dangerously within reach. “I’d marry you tomorrow. And then I’d take you to bed. For weeks.”-She felt her face heat, her heart pounding recklessly. It was a shocking thing to say, but more shocking was the way her body reacted to his pronouncement, with a flare of desire she struggled to extinguish.-“And then?” she said, failing to steady her voice. “You expect me to kill you?”-He hesitated. “That choice is yours to make.”-“You’re unbelievable,” she breathed. “How can you be so cavalier? This is a deathly serious situation—”-“And what was your plan?” he said, his eyes flashing. “How did you think this would end?”-“I don’t know,” she said, and shook her head. “I wasn’t— I wasn’t thinking—”-“And now you’re thinking too much.”-“You’re being cruel—”-“And you are needlessly shocked. You’ve known from the first that I am yoked to a ruthless master, that in fact I sought you out under his orders, that I disrupted my life and disordered my home and tore myself open at his behest, all for you.” He swallowed. “All for you. Do you really not see what you’ve done to me? In a matter of days you’ve stripped me down and upended my world. My hours are in disarray, my future is in chaos, and my head—my head—”He turned away and grimaced, his fists clenching, and Alizeh thought her heart might stop. “And instead of being angry,” he went on, “instead of driving you away —instead of wishing we’d never met—I keep staring at that fucking cut on your neck, Alizeh, and I want to die.”-“Cyrus—”-“It’s my own fault,” he said, and dragged both hands down his face. “I have only myself to blame. I knew better; I knew you were dangerous. You’ve had the upper hand from the moment I laid eyes on you. I saw you and saw right away that I was in hell, and I hated you for it, because I realized even then that you would be the end of me.”-“What are you talking about?” she asked, alarmed. “You speak as if I harmed you—”-He laughed then, laughed like he might be coming unhinged. “Of course you don’t know. Why would you? How could you possibly know the truth? That you’ve been haunting me for so long—tormenting me every night—”-“Cyrus, stop it,” she said. “You’re not being fair— I never even knew you—”-“You don’t understand,” he said, tortured. “I’ve been dreaming about you for months.”- The nosta flashed hot against her skin, and Alizeh went still. “What?”-“I didn’t know who you were,” he said, shaking his head. “I didn’t know your name. I thought you were only an achievement of my imagination. Some kind of conjured fantasy.”-Alizeh felt stricken. Disoriented. Her pounding heart was a disaster. “What— What did you dream about me?” He only looked away, said nothing. “Are you not allowed to tell me?”-Cyrus laughed a bleak laugh. “Oh, no, this story I’m free to share. I just don’t want to.”-“Why not?”-“Alizeh,” he whispered, still refusing to meet her gaze. “Spare me a bit of mercy. Don’t make me say these things out loud.”-“Please,” she said urgently. “I don’t mean to make you suffer. But I need to understand— If the devil has been planting my likeness in your mind, I must know how he’s using me. What did I do to you? Did I hurt you in your imaginings?”-It was a moment before Cyrus said, now staring at the wall, “Far from it. I always thought you were some kind of an angel.”-She drew a sharp breath. That word, again. He’d called her angel in his delirium, and now she thought she was beginning to understand.-“It was a long time before I suspected Iblees had anything to do with my dreams,” Cyrus was saying. “I see now, of course, that I should’ve doubted sooner, but you always struck me as far too lovely to be associated with him. So generous, so sweet. So beautiful I could hardly look at you, even in my dreams. I thought my mind had magicked you to life as an antidote to my nightmares. I never dared to believe you might exist in real life.” The nosta continued to substantiate his words, and Alizeh grew only more unsteady as she listened; she worried she wouldn’t survive this speech. “When I saw you for the first time before the ball,” he went on, “I finally understood. You have no idea how you unbalanced me then. How could you know how it terrified me to look at you when I realized the devil had done this to me on purpose? That he’d taken a reverie I’d come to cherish and twisted it, tainted it with his darkness?”-“I don’t understand,” she said desperately. “Why does Iblees torture you so much? Why would he do such a thing?”-Cyrus finally looked up, meeting her eyes with a force of emotion so intense Alizeh felt the nosta burn against her skin, verifying something he hadn’t even spoken aloud. It shocked her.-“I made the devil the only oath he would accept,” Cyrus said softly.“The terms of which are damning, indeed. If I renege on our agreement at any point, in any way, my life will be his to control forevermore. Often I think he made me this bargain because he felt certain I would break under the weight of it. Iblees would much prefer the convenience of an utterly loyal subject—for either way, he’d get what he wanted from me. I think it’s why he so often torments me, pushing me too far. He’d planted you in my mind with the express purpose of destroying me emotionally, undercutting me, stripping me of my defenses so that I’d be unprepared when we met.” He laughed, and the sound was bitter. “No doubt he hoped that, upon discovering your identity, I’d release you at once, and in the process, lose everything.”-Alizeh’s eyes burned with tears as he spoke. There was no other way to describe it: her heart was breaking. “I didn’t trust you,” Cyrus said quietly. “How could I trust you? You were a vision conjured by the devil, designed to ruin me. I hated you for being real, for coming to life only to personify torture, to be another trial to endure. In fact I wanted to hate you. I wanted to discover your faults, your flaws. I thought you’d never match up to the figment of my dreams, and I was wrong. You are far more enchanting in real life. Far more exquisite.” His voice shook just a little when he said, softly, “It is excruciating to be in your presence.” Again, the nosta seared her skin.-Alizeh wanted to sit down; she wanted a glass of water; she wanted to submerge herself in a cold bath. She could only bring herself to say his name. “I knew, somehow, that it would come to this,” he said, looking away. “I just thought I was stronger. I thought it would take longer. Instead, you’ve managed to sever me in half with astonishing speed.”-“You’re being unfair,” she said, forcing herself to speak, her heart beating painfully in her chest. “You act as if I’m intentionally cruel. As if I’m indifferent to you.”-“Aren’t you?”-“No,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “Of course not.”Cyrus stared at her from where he stood, his chest heaving with barely leashed intensity. He devastated her with that look, even as he seemed planted in the ground, immovable. -“Then be with me,” he said softly. “Let me worship you.”-“Oh, don’t do this,” she said, wiping angrily at her eyes. “This path is too perilous already, and we both know it. Don’t speak of things you cannot give me.”-“You have no idea what I could give you,” he said, his own eyes blazing. “You have no idea what I want. I have been in agony for eight months, Alizeh. Do you know how hard it’s been to pretend I don’t know you? To pretend I don’t want you? To act as if I haven’t known every inch of your body in my dreams? To learn that your heart has been entangled elsewhere? I look at you and I can’t breathe. In my mind, you are already mine.”-“Stop,” she said, struggling now to catch her breath. “Don’t talk to me like this— This is dangerous, Cyrus—”-“Then why tell me you care?” he countered. “Why tell me you feel something only to dismiss me? Do you think it’s easy for me to stand here before you and speak so candidly? Do you think me a masochist? Do you think I enjoy this pain?”-“How can you be so self pitying?” she said miserably. “How can you blame me for the movements of your own heart? How can you hold me accountable for your misfortunes even as you hold hostage my belongings, as you plot and murder under the orders of a despicable beast? I understand your turmoil, Cyrus, really, I do. I am not without compassion. I saw enough of your suffering tonight to imagine how wretched you must be. But how can you ask me to trust you with my heart when you still keep secrets from me? When you are beholden to the darkest creature alive, forsaking all others for him, placing his wishes, his demands, above all else?” She shook her head. “No, I could never be with you,” she said. “Not because I am indifferent, but because you could never be faithful to me—you could never choose me first—and you should not blame me for my fears.”-He went quite still then, doing nothing to mask the agony printed upon his face. “I might, one day, be free.”-“Maybe,” she allowed. “Until then, you could not know what he might ask of you. You might break me just to please him.” When he did not deny this—when he only looked at her, looked at her like he wanted to drive a dagger through his chest—she had her answer. “Where does this leave us, then?” she whispered. “Will you rescind your offer of marriage?”-He laughed, and it was tragic. “How I wish I could.”-“Then I need you to know,” she said, summoning her courage, “that despite everything, I might still accept. In the interest of my own future.” Her words nearly broke him. She saw it in his eyes, in the sudden fall of his shoulders, in the way his arms fell heavily at his sides. “After all this—after everything I’ve shared with you tonight—you would become my wife,” he said, his voice ragged, “in title only?”-“Yes,” she said quietly.-“You wouldn’t touch me. Or laugh with me. You wouldn’t share my bed.”-Her heart was beating in her throat. “No.”-“Alizeh, you would make me the most wretched man alive.”-“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head as she spoke. “I’m desperately sorry.” Her feeble heart was splintering in her chest and she fought frantically against the ache of it, struggling to hold her ground. She, too, had a path she was meant to follow. “It’s just that your arguments,” she said haltingly, “your reasoning— The picture you drew— It was undeniably compelling. I’ve been turning over the possibility in my mind all day, and while I haven’t made my decision yet, I know that if I ever hope to have a chance of leading my people, of fulfilling my destiny, I will require an empire—”-“And then?” he said softly. “Will you kill me then? Is this the order in which you intend to annihilate me? Will you tear out my heart first, rip off my crown next, and end my life only when I’m on my knees, begging you to end my misery?”-“Cyrus,” she said desperately. “Please.” She was losing the battle with her tears and struggled to fight back the flood. “I never asked for any of this —all I ever wanted from the world was to disappear. You brought me here. You made me this offer. You gave me the opportunity to see what I might be, and I can’t willfully blind myself to the possibility now, not now that I know there are people out there waiting for me—not when I, too, have a duty—”-“I am well aware,” he said, lowering his eyes, “of how I did this to myself. You need not bury the blade any deeper.” His voice quieted then to something less than a whisper. “But will you promise me something, angel? When you do decide to kill me, will you tell me how you intend to do it?”- “Cyrus—”-“Enough, I beg you.” He shook his head. “I am only a man, Alizeh, I can only withstand so much torture in one day. Please,” he said, his voice breaking on the word. “Leave me. Leave me to what’s left of my godforsaken life.”-She stood there a moment, frozen. “And tomorrow?” she said quietly. “Who will we become then? Are we to be enemies once more?” He said nothing, his body trembling almost imperceptibly as he stared at the ground, and when he finally parted his lips to answer, there came a sudden, urgent pounding at the door.”

“Alizeh stood there, paralyzed in place, her mind spinning, her heart broken. She heard his footfalls as he strode to the entrance, heard the whine of the old wood as he opened the door. Sarra’s voice was unmistakable. “Where have you been?” she screamed. “I’ve been searching for you everywhere! Your valet said he’d come up earlier to dress you for dinner but he claimed you weren’t here—and then you never appeared downstairs and neither did the girl, who isn’t in her room, and I had no idea where to even begin looking for you, for the last place I expected you to be so early in the evening was lying unconscious in your bed like some kind of profligate, not until my maid told me she’d heard about the most miserable snoda sobbing her eyes out in the kitchens, fearing for her job after finding you asleep in your chamber—”-“Mother.”-“—and why aren’t you wearing any clothes? Heavens, but you look worse than death—have you been ill? Is that why you were abed at this hour?”-“Yes.”-“Your timing,” she said angrily, “is disastrous. It’s just like you to go and get yourself sick when you’re actually needed, begging off when everyone else has to deal with the fallout of your demented actions—”-Alizeh was astonished. She knew the grim extent to which Sarra loathed her son, and within the context of the woman’s injured mind Alizeh could indeed understand her emotional conflict, for she rightfully blamed Cyrus for the brutal murder of her husband. Still, even knowing this, it was shocking to hear her hatred animated thus.”

“Alizeh felt her heart stop.-“What?” Now Cyrus sounded alarmed. “What do you mean? Are they being violent?”-“Yes, they’re being violent!” she cried. “What on earth can you think I mean? There are thousands of them, Cyrus, and they’re threatening to break down the door lest she show herself.”-“I don’t understand,” he said, his urgency escalating. “Why are they angry? I thought they loved her—”-“Then you knew?” she said, overwrought. “You knew who she was? You knew she meant something to them? Oh, Cyrus, how could you?” Sarra sounded truly broken then. “Of all the stupid and terrible things you’ve ever done— You told me she was of royal blood, but you didn’t tell me she was this—this messiah! She’s going to tear apart the empire!”(………...)“Why did you bring her here?” Sarra said, and practically sobbed. “Why have you wrought such havoc upon our home? Do you not see what will become of us? More Jinn will hear of her and they’ll come for her—they’ll crawl out of every dark corner of the earth”—she gasped—“and we’ll have to wage war against our own people—”-“Mother,” he said sharply. “Get a hold of yourself.” -“You are a blight upon this family,” she cried. “You are a stain upon the earth—”-“What do they want from her?” he said, his voice shaking with fury. “What are their demands?”-“They want proof that she’s real! And they want to know she’s unharmed. Most of all they want to know whether she’s come here to marry you, whether she will take the throne.”-Alizeh gasped, clasped a hand to her throat. Cyrus was briefly silent. He was subdued when he said, finally, “Do they want her to marry me?””

““I’ll find her,” he said roughly, and even then Alizeh knew he was protecting her. Cyrus knew she hadn’t wanted to be found in a compromising position with him, in his bedroom, and the small gesture meant a great deal to her. But she was slowly realizing there was no use. She could not hide forever.-“Where are you going to find her?” Sarra shouted. “You know where she is? You’ve known this whole time and you’ve just been torturing me?”-“First,” Cyrus said, ignoring his mother’s outburst, “you must get them to calm down. I can’t let her stand before this mob until I’m sure she can be safe.”-“You ask them to calm down,” Sarra shot back. “You think I haven’t been trying? They won’t listen to me!” Her reputation be damned. Alizeh could no longer stand there silently. These were her people, and they were her responsibility. And she knew that if her parents were here, they’d tell her to come into the light. They’d tell her not to be afraid.”

“His mind was a maelstrom of warring emotions, upended by the inconceivable evidence that his beloved Diviners had known, days and days before they were murdered, not only that King Zaal would die, but how Kamran would suffer. It made his heart ache.”

“And yet, the Diviners hadn’t worried. All had happened precisely as they’d foreseen. He’d mistakenly assumed that the new crop of Diviners had betrayed him by tossing him into the tower. He saw now that they’d been protecting him—locking him somewhere Zahhak might not reach him, and leaving him high enough in the sky so that Simorgh might come to him easily. What he didn’t know, of course, was which part of all this was meant to be a test. He didn’t know what, exactly, he was meant to prove, or how he might prove it—but he saw now that they had known his plan. They must’ve known he was heading to Tulan, for the gift of Simorgh—the exalted character he’d heard so much about in childhood, about whose kindness and generosity Zaal had told endless stories—was a gift of transportation and protection. Kamran knew he could ride upon her back, that she would carry him where he needed to go, that she would offer him her armor and her companionship.”

““Kamran? Kamran, are you in there?” There was a violent pounding against the metal door, and the prince was so stunned by this unexpected clamor that he struggled to rouse himself from his thoughts; indeed he’d hardly a moment to gather his wits before he saw a soft, gleaming light fall steadily from the sky above him. He’d been so consumed by silence and strangeness all this time that he thought, for a moment, he might be imagining things—just until he heard a growing buzz as the soft light approached, the little glow flickering as, without warning, it bopped gently against his face. Hazan’s firefly. Kamran was overcome. He’d never felt such elation or relief. He thought he might fall to his knees with the heft of it. Instead, he said, quite calmly: “What took you so long?” Hazan, in response, broke down the door.”

“Once he felt it was safe, Kamran moved forward to clasp hands with his friend—to thank him for what he’d done—and instead, he recoiled so intensely he nearly tripped over the rotting lump of something extremely dead.“Your Highness?” Miss Huda peered through the open doorway. “Are you quite well?-“He’s alive!” Omid cried, and tackled Kamran in a show of affection for which, just days ago, he might’ve been sentenced to death. “You’re alive!”-“Good God,” said Deen, roughly yanking Omid away from the prince. “Extricate yourself at once, boy. What are you thinking? One does not simply hug the prince of Ardunia—”-“I’m sorry,” Omid said breathlessly. “I’m terribly sorry, sire, it’s only that I’m just so happy to see you—I thought for sure the defense minister had done something terrible to you—”-“Oh yes, he’s spitting mad,” Miss Huda added, nodding eagerly. “He’s going around screaming at everyone, even the Diviners— I’ve never seen servants so spooked, and that’s saying quite a lot, for Mother can be unforgivably harsh with the staff.”-Kamran stood there, staring at this circus in a state of shock. He’d heard their voices in his mind earlier; he knew that they’d been discussing him, wondering about his whereabouts; but he hadn’t thought they’d make up his rescue party. “What,” he said, hardly able to speak, “on earth—are you lot doing here?”-“Obviously I came to save you, you idiot,” said Hazan. “I was fairly close to the castle—stockpiling weapons to crate for the journey—when my firefly found me. I’d left her at the palace to keep an eye on things in my absence, and she alerted me to your situation as soon as Zahhak showed up. I came as swiftly as I could.”-“I’m not asking about you,” Kamran said dismissively. “Of course you’re here—and I’m very glad about it, thank you for coming, really, I mean that—I’m asking about these three—”-“Oh,” said Hazan, and Kamran heard the frown in his voice. “Yes. Isn’t it sweet? They insisted on helping me rescue you.”-“What? Why?”-“Well, we saw that you were in danger, sire,” said Omid. “It was a terrible betrayal— I didn’t think the Diviners would ever use such awful magic on you—”-“And we weren’t going to stand there and let the rightful king be dragged away,” cried Miss Huda, “so that some serpent of a minister could steal your crown! My father detests Zahhak, and I know this for a fact because when Father is in his cups he often lists the people he loathes, and the defense minister numbers high on that list, which is fairly long, actually”—Miss Huda frowned—“I hadn’t really thought about it until just now.”-“And you?” Kamran turned on the apothecarist. “What’s your excuse?”-“Oh, I haven’t the faintest idea, Your Highness,” said Deen, looking about the tower with a visible revulsion. “That awful housekeeper was horrified by the idea of taking part in any of this—and I was stupid enough to agree with her out loud. She then demanded I be a gentleman and walk her the half mile down the bridge so she might hail a cab on a busier corner in town, the fare of which she suggested we share.” He sighed. “I think I might’ve said yes to these blockheads”—he nodded at Omid and Miss Huda—“simply to avoid being alone with her, though, with all due respect, sire, I find I’m regretting that decision now.”-“I see,” said Kamran, frowning.-“Come on, then,” Hazan said, clapping the prince on the shoulder. “Let’s get you out of this hellhole. We’ll have to make a run for it straightaway; Zahhak is on a rampage. He’s tearing apart the castle looking for you—and for something else—your grandfather’s will, it sounded like —” Kamran felt a bolt of fear. “And I suggest we head to the docks without delay. There’s a great deal I need to tell you, and then we need to come up with a plan—”-“A great deal you need to tell me?” Kamran’s alarm intensified. “About what?”-Hazan almost smiled. “I ran into your mother.”-“What? Where?” Hazan nodded toward the exit. “Never mind that now. We’ll have plenty of time to talk and plot while we’re on the water.” -“On the water?” said Miss Huda, her head swiveling between them. “Are we getting on a boat?”-“Not you,” said Kamran and Hazan at the same time.-“Hazan,” the prince said, shaking his head as he glanced again at the skylight. “I can’t leave yet. I have to stay here at least a while longer.”-“What?” Hazan recoiled. “Why would you want to stay here? You’re standing next to a matted pile of rats—”Miss Huda shrieked.-“Oh God,” Deen whispered. “I think I’m going to be sick.”-“They’re not rats,” said Omid helpfully, in a broken accent. “Well, they’re not only rats. There’s also a possum, I think, and, um, the other one, I can’t remember the name in Ardanz—” Miss Huda shrieked again. Kamran paid this no mind; he was about to hold out his hand to Hazan, to show him the feather clutched in his fist, the parcel tucked into his pocket, when suddenly the night was torn asunder by a beautiful, terrifying cry.”

“Kamran moved forward as the others drew back, and he fell on one knee before her. Broad and gleaming, Simorgh spanned the width of the entire room, her downy, glimmering feathers a muted starburst of color in the moonlight. She canted her head and regarded him with dark, inky eyes a long time before she finally nodded in a simple acknowledgment that set Kamran’s heart to flutter. She made a sound, a warble soft and tender, then dropped to her knees so that he might scale her back. Kamran felt his breath catch in his chest.-“Simorgh,” Hazan whispered.-“Heavens above,” Deen gasped. “I never thought, in all my life—”-“Am I dreaming?” said Miss Huda. “I think I might be dreaming.”-“Yes, miss,” said a dazed Omid. “You are.”-Hazan stepped forward and bowed before the bird, who only studied him curiously. The former minister rose incrementally, his body rigid with astonishment as he turned to the prince. “Kamran, how did you—?”-“I promise,” said Kamran. “I’ll explain everything later. But if the situation is as dire as you say, we better get going.”-“Get going?” Hazan’s eyes widened. “To Tulan, you mean?”-“Yes.”-“With Simorgh?”-“Yes.”-“Oh my goodness, we’re going to Tulan?” cried Miss Huda. “Are we going to save Alizeh?”-Again, Kamran flinched at the sound of her name. He didn’t dignify Miss Huda’s question with a response.-“Take these,” Hazan said to the prince, pulling a strap over his head. “I grabbed a few weapons from the stockpile before I left—I didn’t know if I’d need them. But if we’ll be entering Tulan from on high, best to have them at the ready, just in case.” He tossed Kamran a quiver of arrows, and then a bow, both of which his friend caught easily, and slung quickly over his back.-“Thank you,” said the prince. “Truly.” Hazan only looked at Kamran a moment, then responded with a firm nod.-“Could I have something, too?” said Omid, who was approaching Hazan with an eagerness Kamran found unnerving. “I don’t have any weapons, and I’d like to be armed—”-“Oh, and I as well!” cried Miss Huda. “Do you happen to have any throwing stars? I’m quite good with throwing stars—”-“You can’t be serious,” Kamran said, horrified. “The two of you are not coming with us.”-“Three.” Deen cleared his throat, sounding suddenly quite peppy. “There are three of us, actually.”-“I thought you had to get home?” Kamran said darkly, turning to face the apothecarist. “I thought you said you had loved ones waiting for you. That you had no idea what you were doing here.”-“That was before I knew I was going to meet Simorgh,” said Deen, who quickly bent in half when the bird turned to look at him. “My loved ones will understand. If they even believe me.” He stared at the bird in wonder. “I can’t go home now.”-Kamran shook his head. “Are you all blind?” he cried. “There are five of us. We can’t all five of us fit on the back of the same bird—” Simorgh made a call. It was a gentle, melodious sound, but it carried nonetheless, and in a moment Kamran realized they were not alone. Simorgh had brought others —the children Zaal had known in youth, whose nest he’d shared as a babe. Four more magnificent birds alighted at the top of the tower, the group of them peering down into the dark, trilling softly.-Briefly, Kamran closed his eyes. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” he muttered. Deen whooped. “If you choose to come, you’re coming under your own command,” Kamran said sharply. “Get yourselves killed and I won’t be bothered. Is that clear?”-“Yes,” cried Omid, pumping a fist in the air.-“Get ourselves killed?” Deen frowned. “I didn’t realize we might die—”-“No, sire,” said Miss Huda, shaking her head. “With all due respect, Your Highness, I don’t think that’s very responsible of you, for we shall require a leader, and you were quite literally born for such a role—”-“Hazan,” Kamran said, pinching his nose.-“Miss Huda,” his old minster said quietly. “You may rely upon me should you require anything.” “

“Miss Huda first, laughing through her tears; then Omid, who hugged his bird like the child he was, unselfconsciously kissing its feathered face; then Deen, too proud to betray more than a small, delighted smile as he mounted, even as he fought an obvious swell of emotion; and then Hazan, tall and dignified, he took his seat with the humility and grace befitting a knight, nodding just once at Kamran before he ascended, with a great flap of wings, into the sky. When finally the others were settled among the clouds, Simorgh landed once more before the prince, and Kamran approached the beautiful bird in awe. He drew his hands along her silky feathers with great reverence, then mounted the incredible creature with care. She took off at once.”

“There was a thunderous crack as she took off, and a shower of color streaked across the sky, painting the heavens in an otherworldly phosphorescence. The sight filled him with a complicated joy. Kamran looked back as they vanished into inky skies, wondering, with a quiver in his heart, who he might be if he ever returned.”

THIS WOVEN KINGDOM(3)-ALL THIS TWISTED GLORY-QUOTES:

“There was no benefit to losing one’s mind. If there were, Cyrus would’ve happily mislaid his mind at the palace, where it might’ve lived forever with his father, the king, and the surfeit of oppressions the older man had earlier laid at his feet. Instead, the young prince had done the more reasonable thing in a crisis and promptly retched into a nearby planter.”

“Cyrus of Nara was the spare, of course; never the heir. It was his older brother who’d shadowed their father from infancy. It was his older brother who’d prepared for a life of decadence and power. Cyrus, on the other hand, had spent every free hour in his youth tearing down the secret train tunnel with abandon, flowers blooming in his hair as he hurtled himself through the clouds and into the arms of the Diviners.”

““WHAT ARE YOU – ARE you eating an orange?”Kamran turned as he spoke, his face taut with dismay, to study the young woman seated in the night sky beside him. For hours now they’d been soaring through the heavens, and whereas he’d only grown frigid with disquiet, Miss Huda half reclined atop her magical bird, staring up at the stars and eating a piece of fruit for all the world as if she were the heroine in some impassioned novel.”

“to his supreme delight, that all in attendance were fluent in Feshtoon. Even, apparently, Miss Huda. Kamran had been surprised to discover the illegitimate miss was properly educated. He knew the assumption made him seem cruel, but neither could he condemn himself for the thought; it was, quite frankly, bizarre for someone of her uncertain station to be brought up with a governess. Then again, her father was known to be an eccentric.”

““Leave her be,” came the whisper of Hazan’s familiar, scolding voice.“She doesn’t mean to vex you.”-“Who?”-“Miss Huda.”-Kamran registered these words with surprise, turning to face his old

friend as if dealt an insulting blow. “Miss Huda? You think I preoccupy myself now with thoughts of Miss Huda?”-Hazan did not smile, though his eyes indicated some private amusement. “Do you not?”-“If I think of her at all, it is only to marvel at the many inelegant turns of her mind.”-Now Hazan frowned. “That seems unfair.””

““Oh, and you approve of this, do you?”-“Not everyone takes themselves as seriously as you do, sire. They have neither the energy nor the interest.”-“Are you implying that I’m vain?”-“I’m not implying it, Kamran. I’m delivering the statement to you directly.”-“You’re an ass.”-“It’s a mercy I don’t stare too long in the mirror, then, contemplating the contours of my face.” Reluctantly, Kamran cracked a smile.”

“Miss Huda had procured a banana from some secret pocket in the billowing folds of her horrifying dress and was now straining across the dark expanse of the universe to hand the fruit to Omid, whose eyes had lit up even as his mouth was still full. He scrambled eagerly to accept the offering and, in a moment that caused Kamran to stiffen in alarm, the two of them knocked heads and nearly fell out of the sky. Omid and Miss Huda promptly dissolved into gales of laughter, delighted to have nearly killed themselves with stupidity. Even Deen, the grouchiest of the four companions, had managed a smile. It made Kamran irrationally furious. He didn’t understand that what he felt as he watched them was not anger, exactly, but a mix of longing and resentment. Omid, Huda, and Deen had come on this journey only for a bit of adventure, for a touch of the magical. They were not here as he was: in a desperate fight for his life, his throne, and his legacy.”

“Still, these marvels would not distract her mind. Scenes of the last several hours continued to haunt her, sounds drumming incessantly against her bones, memories of remembered sensation quickening across her skin. Even now, surrounded by quiet, she could not find silence. Just hours ago, she’d done the unthinkable. After eighteen years in hiding, Alizeh had finally stepped out of the shadows. Exposing herself as the lost queen of Arya had been a dangerous move for several reasons, chief among them that she was ill-equipped for the role. She possessed no throne, no army, no plan, and not an ounce of the powerful magic she’d been promised for the part. At this juncture she was more likely to be murdered than venerated for popping her head above the parapet, yet she felt she’d no choice but to emerge, unfinished, into the spotlight.”

“Instead, the moment she’d stepped onto the balustrade the crowd had appeared to flinch, as if struck in tandem by an unseen force. Their deafening roars dimmed to a silence so complete Alizeh had been able to hear her own shallow breaths. The first moments had been more than terrifying; seconds ticked past as if in slow motion, her heart hammering against her ribs as panic swelled within her. She’d not thought it through – she hadn’t enough time to prepare – and she worried then that she must say something grand, or else inspiring. Her first public words would doubtless be remembered in their history, repeated in the streets. She’d thought, at first, to rally them. Then she’d looked more closely. What she’d seen was a sea of Jinn worn out from long hours of standing and shouting. Only the muted cries of infants were still detectable, exhausted parents with their children in arm, older kids asleep at their feet. The elderly leaned on canes or otherwise sat painfully on the ground, while the young and hale stared up at her with strained, feverish eyes. Every face she looked upon was taut with fatigue, trembling hope – and a hunger born of simple dehydration. Gently, she’d said, “My dear people, let me bring you water.” The result was a breathtaking chaos.”

“She’d hardly registered her irritation, had hardly opened her mouth to protest before he’d turned to a nearby servant and issued orders she couldn’t hear. No longer shirtless, the king of Tulan wore a plain sweater and overcoat, his only indulgence a thick fur cap pulled low over his brow, the article all but hiding his copper hair. Everything, everything, black. She’d been unable to look away as he performed this small task, fascinated by his unshakable bearing. Just hours ago he’d been battered nearly to death by the devil only to be dealt further blows by Alizeh herself, his mother, and the threat of violence against his home. These strikes had rained down on him one after another without pause and still, he remained composed. He wore a slight smile as he spoke quietly to a footman, his mannerisms easy but firm. He had not collapsed.”

“Alizeh had grown light-headed under this careful gaze, her skin prickling with awareness where his eyes had touched her. She didn’t know how to describe this feeling, this breathless languor. No one had ever looked at her the way he did, as if the sight of her might be fatal. Her lips had parted under the weight of his silent want, her mouth growing heavy with the sound of his name and a desperate, foolish impulse to whisper the word against his skin.”

“Her body had never felt so alive, so electrified. When had she allowed Cyrus to take up so many rooms inside her? Nothing had even happened between them.”

“Worse: Cyrus was under the command of the devil. This statement alone should’ve been conclusive enough to condemn him, but heaven help her, she had other reasons, too. Among other horrifying crimes, he’d stolen her precious Book of Arya and refused to return the item, holding it hostage under lock and magic. He’d slaughtered Ardunia’s Diviners, murdered King Zaal, killed his own father, and crowned himself her enemy whether she liked it or not. So when he’d fled the palace on a mysterious – and likely nefarious – quest, she’d felt compelled to follow. Too bad, then, that she’d been a fool.”

“OF COURSE CYRUS KNEW HE was being followed. She possessed all the subtlety of a dragon in slumber. As if she could draw near him without his knowledge – as if he couldn’t hear the dragging hem of his borrowed cloak on her body.(..) He was a fool to think of her at all.”

“She could not know his dilemma: that her inexpert shadow infuriated him even as it soothed him, that he wanted to vanish even as he couldn’t bear the thought of abandoning her here, in the frigid dark. He wanted her closer than he could express in words, wanted her bare and trembling in his arms, wanted to excoriate these sensations from his skin. He wanted to lop off his own head and hurl it into the river. He wanted to shout at her. There was a sudden sweep of wind then, the sharp rustle of leaves. Cyrus ducked his head against the chill and heard the barely perceptible sound of a sniff, which only provoked his fury. He knew his anger was irrational, but he was compelled nonetheless to turn around and accuse her of being senselessly stubborn; she was all but freezing to death for no reason at all, torturing him beyond the bounds of humanity. At first he’d been astonished that she’d followed him, unarmed, into an unknown darkness – and his first thought, naturally, had been to stop her. He’d nearly done as much, nearly whipped around and demanded she return to her rooms. As if she’d listen.”

“He couldn’t believe he’d told her the truth. This was still inconceivable to him, that he’d confessed to dreaming of her night after night; that for eight agonizing months he’d known the taste, the heat, the silk of her in his sleep. Nothing more than an attack of madness could’ve driven him to such a state. He’d been painfully fatigued, still under the fading influence of dark magic, his mind and body not fully recovered from the devil’s most recent assaults. It was the only excuse he had, that he’d been broken – his locks unbolted by shock, his weak body pushed over the edge by her tenderness. At any other hour in his life he’d have been stronger. He’d have walked away, sealed his mouth – he’d have died before disgracing himself with a pitiful exhibition of his own desire. Hells, he’d known better.”

“That her character was faultless – that she’d made no bargain with the devil – that she was just as haunted by Iblees as he was – This was worse, infinitely worse. Her ultimate show of compassion toward him had been his undoing, for this, layered upon all else, had proven she was every inch the angelic figure he’d cherished in his dreams. Not only had he been horribly wrong about her, he’d treated her cruelly. He knew now that she was so far above him he wasn’t even worthy of standing in her shadow. Certainly he had no right to desire anything from her. He came to a sudden halt then, his heart pounding against his ribs.”

“Cyrus was in danger of losing control. Alizeh had done him a mercy by walking away, by putting an end to the dawn of what might’ve destroyed him. He could never again allow himself to get so close to her. It was ludicrous even to entertain the idea that she felt something for him. Even now she followed him only because she didn’t trust him; she had no idea she was attempting to accompany him tonight on a trek into hell, where a dark master impatiently awaited his arrival. No. His was a blighted soul. Watching her address a desperate, devoted crowd of thousands – all ready and willing to die for her – had driven home this final blow. He would always be the villain in her story. Many months ago he’d made peace with the sacrifice his life was meant to be, for it was the only way he’d been able to fulfill the tasks set before him. For Cyrus, hoping for anything more than death was a treacherous game, one that would end only in tragedy. He had no choice but to relegate his impossible dreams to the dusty bins of childhood. Besides, the devil was waiting. With that final, bitter thought – he vanished.”

“It was the last two lines that plagued him. Woven kingdoms, clay and fire – Despite everything, Hazan had managed to plant the seed of a dangerous idea in his head: that Alizeh might yet be destined to marry him.”

“It hadn’t been entirely surprising to Kamran that the enchanting, unassuming snoda had turned out to be the long-lost heir to an ancient kingdom. There had always been something regal about her – a

dignity in her bearing – A snort of laughter interrupted his thoughts, and Kamran turned irritably toward the sound, his mood darkening as he watched Miss Huda fail to get ahold of herself. The young miss clapped a hand to her chest as she chortled, her mouth still half-full as she said, gasping, “Oh my goodness, I’m so tired I could die.” It was impossible then not to compare the two women in his mind. Miss Huda was the antithesis of Alizeh, unpolished and unrestrained. One had been brought up to be queen, the other to be tolerated; and yet Alizeh had been raised in relative poverty, Miss Huda in an aristocratic home. The differences between them were vast, and though both young women had suffered negligence, only one had emerged with self-possession and grace. Kamran flinched as the sound of another snort pierced the quiet, his expression growing only more dour. “Oh, I daresay Tulan is a horrid place,” she was saying. “I doubt anywhere in the world could measure up to the beauty of Ardunia –” Something about the sound of her voice bothered him, burrowed under his skin. He gave his head a sharp shake, as if to dislodge her from his mind. He didn’t want to think on the many irritations of Miss Huda.”

“Once again, his thoughts lurched back to uncertainty. Kamran was supposed to use this journey to prove himself a worthy inheritor of his own throne – the Diviners had said as much – yet they’d given him no clear guidelines on how to accomplish the task. He wondered whether Zahhak had worked out where he’d gone; he wondered what the Diviners were doing and saying in his absence. Unless the priests and priestesses intended to stop the defense minister from crowning himself king, there was little time left before Zahhak took control of Ardunia.”

“In all the disorder of his mind, one thing was absolutely clear: He would kill Cyrus. Whereas Kamran filled with uncertain dread at the prospect of seeing Alizeh again, he experienced a refreshing flood of adrenaline at the thought of seeing the bastard southern king. High among the many horrors repeating on a loop in Kamran’s mind were the gruesome images of King Zaal’s death, for the scenes had branded forever upon his memories. Over and over he returned to the stomach-churning sound of the sword slicing through his grandfather’s heart. Kamran would never forget the shock, the horror, the ensuing chaos. The murderer himself.The Ardunian prince was on a mission now, above all else, to right the scales. He would exact retribution for his grandfather’s death or perish in the effort. The brutal king of Tulan would finally be delivered justice. Preferably hacked to pieces, his organs fed to vultures.“Kamran.”At the sound of his name, the prince nearly startled. He fought to calm his bloodthirsty heart as he turned to face his old minister.”

“By air or sea, the approach to Tulan was distinguished by the din of cascades. Kamran, who’d led many water journeys to this part of the world, was more than familiar with the sound, the roar of which was a hateful reminder that Ardunia had perhaps two more years before they’d need to start rationing water and three years before the crisis overwhelmed the empire entirely. They’d recently had good snowfall and a brief deluge of rain – but Ardunia would require a great deal more than a few days of precipitation if they were to stave off a drought. Tens of millions of people would soon look to him for protection – and one day, under his leadership, they might die of thirst. It was yet another crushing problem for which Kamran needed to conjure a solution; yet another blade of fear pressed constantly against his throat. His grandfather, King Zaal, had managed to keep this secret from the people, insisting there was no need to inspire panic when there was time yet to resolve the issue. Only now, as the burden fell upon his shoulders, did Kamran recognize this silence for what it truly was: cowardice.”

““By my estimate, we’ll touch ground in roughly thirty minutes,” Hazan was saying. “I’d been hoping to discuss the results of my earlier expedition with you before we arrived. However, if you’d rather wait –”-“No.” Kamran stiffened, his back straightening. For so many hours they’d been unable to find calm or quiet in the tumult of the flight, and this most essential conversation had been so delayed it was nearly forgotten. Yesterday, as a hedge against possible expulsion from the castle, Kamran had dispatched Hazan to the north of Ardunia, charging him with the task of securing a safe house, where they might one day take shelter, if necessary. “No, let us discuss your discoveries straightaway. You mentioned you saw my mother? In the countryside?”-“Yes.”-“Did you speak with her?”-Hazan shook his head even as he said, “Yes.”-“Where was she? Was she well?”-“Yes.”-“And will you force me to pluck each word of explanation from your mouth like so many blasted splinters? What is the matter with you?”-(…...)Hazan narrowed his eyes. “If you’re in too dark a temper even to have a simple conversation, declare it now and spare me the desire to knock you off your mount so I might watch, at my leisure, as gravity does the noble work of snapping your neck.” For reasons inexplicable to him, these words cheered Kamran slightly. -“Is my mood always so obvious to you?”-“Your mood is obvious to a corpse.”-The prince looked away as he fought a smile, saying, “Go on, then. You went to a tavern and found a farmer.”-“No. I found your mother.” Kamran lifted his head sharply.

“She was, by all accounts, awaiting my arrival. The moment I pushed open the door I saw her – though to be fair, she made no effort to conceal her presence. She was so weighted down by jewels it was a wonder to me she hadn’t been robbed in plain sight.”-“Mother has always been a master of discretion.”-Hazan gave a dry laugh. “In any case, she was looking at me as I entered, and indicated at once that I should join her at her table, where she proceeded to tell me she’d secured us a safe house.”-“What?”-Hazan nodded. “My mother – my mother, the languishing princess of Ardunia – took it upon herself to do a bit of business with a common farmer? In the interest of my protection? Don’t say she took a room at the village inn?” Again, Hazan nodded. “No,” Kamran breathed.-“I confirmed this fact with the owner.”-“But how did she know I’d require a safe house?”-Hazan looked suddenly troubled. “I don’t know. As I said, your mother is a strange woman. She didn’t seem at all surprised to discover me alive;

did not ask whether you’d survived the dagger she’d generously planted in your shoulder; did not seem disturbed by the death of your grandfather; and asked me only whether we’d made plans to go to Tulan. When I said yes, she demanded I spare her the details.” Kamran turned away, dragging a hand down his face as an icy breeze sent a shiver through his body. Dawn had not yet broken, but the dark was lifting like a stubborn stain. Blue and gray smeared at the horizon, the promise of golden light just beyond, and the prince drew a deep breath, relishing the mist as he tried to make sense of these revelations. Hazan hesitated before adding: “She also asked me whether the devil had yet paid you a visit.”-Kamran turned back, every muscle in his body tensing. “The devil?”-“I told her I had no idea, as we’d not discussed it.””

“Hazan hesitated. “She also sent you this.” Hazan reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a pale pink envelope, which he handed to the prince, who received this strange gift in a bit of a daze. He turned over the delicate paper in his hands, noticing that the flap of the envelope was open. Unsealed.-Kamran glanced up at his friend. “You’ve read it?”-Hazan exhaled, looking grim. “I suppose I should forewarn you,” he said. “It’s not a letter.” “

“Both the king and his country perplexed her. Tulan was a much smaller empire than Ardunia, yet its geography still managed to impress. Alizeh didn’t know whether it was the abundance of magic in this region that made it so, but Tulan appeared home to various microclimates and geographical variations. From the middle of the salt flat she could count the teeth of a distant mountain range, savor the scents of night blooms, hear the muted hush of waterfalls, shrink from the eerie calls of jackals. With its dynamic landscape and elevation changes, Alizeh was beginning to see how rare such a piece of land might be, situated as it was along the Mashti River – and parallel to the sea. It was no wonder to her that Ardunia desired to possess it. Still, she struggled to understand how an empire as powerful as Ardunia had been unable to overtake the humble nation. No doubt many had tried and failed to conquer this fertile piece of land. Tulan seemed a place both accessible and unfathomable; diminutive yet vast. It was the kind of contradiction she often felt repeated in herself: that she was both useless and powerful; unimportant and essential. If only she might learn how to reconcile all these feelings.”

“she might never return to Ardunia. Already she’d accepted that she’d never again see Kamran, whose own life had recently been eviscerated – and she stopped, suddenly, nearly tripping over her cloak at the thought of him. She wondered how he was managing in the wake of so much ruin. She wondered whether he would one day look back upon the days during which their lives had so serendipitously intersected, and she wondered how – or whether – he might remember her. With her whole heart, she wished him well. Wished him peace, wherever he was. She’d always be grateful for his kindness. For truly seeing her when no one else had.”

“He was no longer afraid of these visits – not the way he’d once been – but fear was a slippery thing. He’d been surprised in his green life to discover the manifold ways in which a person might experience terror, the creativity with which dread and horror might be provoked in a soul. He’d overcome one nightmare only to discover its child, outrun another only to encounter its twin. No matter his efforts he could not outsmart that which he could not anticipate, and his only comfort as he stared up at the familiar, sinister staircase was a cold one.”

“That day, Cyrus had learned cowardice was a luxury. Only the privileged few could afford to run away, to lock their doors and close their eyes to ugliness. The rest lived in homes without doors to lock, looked through eyes without lids to shut. They confronted the dark even as their hearts trembled, as their souls shook – for even strangled by fear, there was no choice but to endure. No one would be along to slay their demons.”

“You are? You are? -No danger to you, said Cyrus soundlessly. The spider only stared at him. He held out his hand, palm down, and, after a brief hesitation, the massive arachnid lowered herself, then climbed aboard his body with an eager scuttle of legs. She investigated his fingers before climbing up his forearm, pausing at his elbow to consider his face more closely. You are? Before?-Yes. I’ve come before. You are in no danger from me, I swear it. In response, the spider scaled the incline of his shoulder, then his neck, the prickle of her hard, lightly-furred pins raising goose bumps along his skin. Cyrus conquered the impulse to recoil from the unnerving sensation, holding still as she cautiously boarded his cheek, lifting her forelegs slightly to better study his eyes. It was a torturously long moment before she said –You are? Sad. Sad. Sad.-Cyrus swallowed. “Yes,” he whispered. The spider regarded him a moment more before scurrying from whence she came. She stepped off the plank of his arm and into the unknown with a final judgment: No danger.”

“Fate, he thought bitterly, was only romantic when one was destined to be the hero.”

“Poor Clay brain is made of dirt!

It cannot solve a puzzle

Poor Clay heart

it falls apart

A frail, decaying muscle”

“But appealing to his parched heart? Delivering him not merely the vision of an angel but the temptation of the real thing? He, who’d been discarded by all – shunned by the Diviners, hunted by his mother, betrayed by his father, abandoned by his brother, plunged into isolation and hated throughout the world? He, whose desiccated heart turned to dust before her tenderness? Alizeh was the fulfillment of his most desperate, undisclosed desire. The constant, gnawing ache inside him – this pitiful need that grew only more fraught in the wake of every darkness that devoured him – He longed for her warmth, for her radiance. She’d been, from the first moment she’d wandered into his dreams, an enduring flame in the endless night, his only haven in the madness that inhaled him.”

““Father,” he said softly. “It’s me.”-“NO!” The true king of Tulan fought uselessly against his chains, his face contorting in terror, his eyes squeezing shut. “Leave here at once! I begged you – I asked you never to come back –”-“He took your other eye, didn’t he?” Cyrus said thickly, pain lancing through his chest. “Tonight.”-His father stiffened, then sagged, grief painted across his face. He did not open his eyes. He did not answer the question. “Never think of me again,” the man said raggedly, the last dregs of energy leaving his body. “Imagine me dead and gone, child. This debt is not yours to bear.”-“How can you say that,” came Cyrus’s quiet reply, “when it was you who asked me to bear it?” A tense silence settled in the filthy chamber.-(…..)Yes, Cyrus hated himself.-“Forgive me,” came the older man’s broken response. “I was a fool – I didn’t know – Our weak, sheltered imaginations cannot fathom such corruptions of darkness – I never thought it would be like this – I never –”-Cyrus set his jaw. “I will see that this matter is resolved, and when it is done, you will return to Mother. The Diviners will fashion you a new set of eyes –”-“This matter will never be resolved!” Reza cried, hysterical now. “Don’t you see? It’s a trap – it’s always a trap –”-“That’s not true,” Cyrus said, determined. “I’ve already completed most of the tasks. I have four more months –”-Reza would not stop shaking his head, his torment undisguised, his moods as sudden and changeable as the wind. “My son – you don’t understand –”-“Tell me, then,” said Cyrus, his chest heaving with barely restrained emotion. He’d all but destroyed himself in the pursuit of righting these wrongs, and always his father doubted him. “Why is it you won’t put your faith in me? What is it I don’t understand?”-Finally Reza opened his eyes, the rosy flesh of the empty sockets still wet with tears. “It’s never been done,” he whispered. “No man has ever wagered against the devil and won.” “

““Hazan?” A beat.-Then, softly, “Yes, Your Majesty.” -Alizeh thought she felt her heart stop. “Is it possible?” she breathed.“Are you really here?”-She did not imagine the tenderness, the faint surprise in his voice when he said, “I am really here.” The nosta flared to life against her sternum.(..)Desperate for visual proof, she forced her eyes open again, her hands fumbling against the ground. When she turned an inch and saw him kneeling in the grass beside her, she was overcome. She fell back against the earth and shook her head, over and over. She couldn’t believe he was alive. Hazan, who was peerless in his loyalty to her, who’d gifted her the rare nosta that had saved her in a thousand ways from harm, who’d risked his life over and over for her safety. She thought he’d been killed. And now he was here? He’d come for her once again? In all these years since her parents’ death – years of screaming loneliness – she’d lost hope of ever finding another trustworthy soul. Yet

Hazan had come to her without demands or expectations, parting veils of night to fall on one knee before her, setting into motion what might’ve been the great escape of her life. There was no one she felt safer with, and she’d done nothing to deserve his kindness. He’d simply put his faith in her. Blindly she grasped for his hand and pressed it between her palms, hardly able to see through her own tears to the mirrored emotion in his eyes. With great effort she swallowed, releasing him only to wipe at her face with trembling fingers. She fought to sit upright. He moved at once to help, shifting her into a seated position.”

“Hazan looked the same. A bit fatigued around the edges but the same: hale, uninjured. His hazel eyes were more brown than green in this light, an unruly lock of his ashblond hair slipping over his forehead, grazing the slope of his broken nose. Alizeh had never seen him from such close proximity, and she was struck by the reminder that he was almost entirely freckled – a feature that, were it not for the iron of his eyes, would’ve made him look rather young. Hazan was not traditionally handsome, and yet his features were singular, his gaze alive always with feeling, his air of self-assurance so potent it moved with him like a second shadow. She lifted her hands to his face, taking his lightly scruffed cheeks into her palms. He startled at the contact, the sudden movement of his chest betraying his reaction better than his eyes, which remained steady as she studied him. She couldn’t explain her need to touch him, to know that he was real. A single tear, the last of them, slid down her cheek. “Hazan,” she said softly. “How are you here? I thought he’d killed you.”-In response, Hazan only shook his head, his eyes flaring with panic. “Your Majesty,” he whispered. “You are gravely injured.”This statement surprised her.”

““Oh,” she gasped, fighting a grimace. “Do you mean this? I don’t know where –” The words held in her throat, eyes widening in shock as she noticed, for the first time, the four looming figures planted just beyond Hazan’s head. Alizeh didn’t know whether to recoil or rejoice. Her mind had awakened enough, at least, to perceive that the scene was all wrong. Delighted as she was to see Miss Huda and Omid and Deen – all three of whom lifted hands in muted hellos – their presence here made no sense. Finally she turned her gaze to the last of them, the most forbidding of the four standing just apart from the others. The crown prince of Ardunia was striking even in stillness, his gleaming sable hair and honeyed skin both novel and familiar to her.(...)She couldn’t be sure whether it was the fatigue of her mind, but Kamran’s face appeared different, one of his eyes glinting gold in the burgeoning light, the other as dark as it ever was. Heavens, but he was devastatingly handsome.”

““Fear not, Your Highness. I’ll not allow you to come to harm.”-Alizeh drew back. “Come to harm? You mean the prince has come to harm me?”-“In truth,” Hazan said after a moment, “I don’t believe him capable.” This was not reassurance. Alizeh was unsettled anew, the revelation so confusing she struggled even to speak. “I don’t – I don’t understand – What reason could he –”(..) “Your Majesty,” came Hazan’s low, urgent voice. Alizeh turned back to him, her pulse refusing to calm. “Forgive me, but I must ask you quickly: Have you consented to marry the king of Tulan?” “

““Hells,” Hazan said on an exhale, the harsh word a contrast to his obvious relief. “I can’t tell you how gratified I am to hear it.”-“But – Hazan, I must tell you” – she placed a hand on his arm and he

stiffened – “I’ve been giving his proposal serious consideration…. Cyrus has offered me his kingdom in exchange –”-“No,” he said, brightening with alarm. He tossed a furtive glance at Kamran’s approaching figure. “I beg you, do not consider it – It would be a mistake, Your Majesty –”-“What would be a mistake?” Alizeh turned slowly toward the voice, steadying herself under the prince’s imposing stare.”

“Hazan swore loudly at the reveal of her bloodied dress, the epithet so off-color it shocked her – but it was Kamran who spoke, whose voice shook her with its fury. “What happened?” he demanded. “What has that bastard done to you?”-Hazan, unfortunately, was no calmer. “Is this why you were on the ground? Were you in fact unconscious?”-“I don’t –” she tried to say.-“Why is it you bear every indication of abuse?” “

““It appears you’ve been physically harmed by the Tulanian king,” said Hazan, who struggled now to moderate his voice. “Is this true?”-Alizeh winced. “Technically, yes.” Again Hazan swore loudly. “But it’s not as bad as it –” she started to say, before thinking better of it. “That is, to be fair, we both did harm to each other – In fact, I might’ve done worse to him if only afforded the opportunity.”-“You mean you were involved in an altercation?” Kamran now. “With the southern king?”-“And did you aim to kill him, Your Majesty? Were you attempting to flee the castle?”-“No,” Alizeh said, then hesitated. The throb at the base of her skull was making it difficult to think. “Well, yes. I mean, naturally, at first, I tried several times to kill him –”-“Wait.” At the tortured sound of Kamran’s voice, Alizeh looked up. She found him staring at her with a pained expression, something between anger and anguish. “Forgive me,” he said, “it’s only that I need to understand – If you tried to kill him – Are you saying it’s possible you didn’t leave with him voluntarily?”-The question was so strange, Alizeh fell silent. “Leave with him voluntarily?” she finally echoed, a notch forming

between her brows. “You mean did I leave Ardunia voluntarily with the king of Tulan?” Kamran nodded.-“Of course not,” she said, flinching as if physically stunned. The accusation was so insulting it lit like a firework in the tinder of her dry mind, supplying her a badly needed surge of adrenaline. “How could you ask such a question? I didn’t even know who he was – He tricked me into coming here –”-“I told you!” came a chipper voice. Miss Huda was on tiptoe, holding a hand in the air like an overeager student. “I told you, sire, that she didn’t know who he was!”-“Quiet,” came Deen’s loud whisper, shushing the young woman as he tugged down her hand. “Does this strike you as the time for gloating?”-“Yes, well, I did tell him, though, didn’t I?” Miss Huda crossed her arms. “I tried to tell you all –”-“I believed you, miss,” said Omid urgently. “I never doubted.”-“No, you didn’t,” came Miss Huda’s surprisingly tender reply. “You are the dearest boy.” Alizeh’s thoughts were in chaos.(...)Knowing her own heart as she did, it seemed cruel to Alizeh that her good deeds had gone so quickly uncredited, that at the first chance to recast her in a poor light, Kamran had seized upon the opportunity. It made her realize how little she and Kamran knew each other – how tenuous was the bond between them. Only someone with a shallow understanding of her character could be so easily persuaded to malign her, and it was fortunate, then, that the guileless shock now printed upon her face was clear enough to all. “I did not doubt you, Your Majesty,” said Hazan softly. -She drew a breath, sparing Hazan a look of affection before turning to Kamran. “But you,” she said to the prince. “You thought I ran off with him after – after all he did? You thought me capable of playing a role in the atrocities of that evening?” “

““Oh, Kamran,” she said. “How could you think that?” Then, more quietly: “How tortured you must’ve been to think that.” He absorbed her words with a stillness so complete it worried her, thawing only to close his eyes, to swallow. He appeared suddenly ashen with shame. Kamran was quiet a long moment, unmoving save the rapid rise and fall of his chest, and when he opened his eyes again there was a rage burning in the depths of his gaze, an inferno of fury that threatened to burn him down with it.-“I’ll kill him,” he said softly. “I’ll gut him open and tear out his organs, and I’ll make certain he lives long enough to endure the torture. When I’m done with him, he’ll be begging for death. He will die, and he will die of his own agony.” Kamran reached out an unsteady hand to touch her, his fingers skimming the tender bruise on her cheek. “You may depend upon it.”-Alizeh shook her head in a sharp motion. “No,” she said, stunned. “Kamran – you can’t kill him –”-“It’s what he deserves.”-“No, it’s – well, yes” – she frowned – “I suppose there might be some argument for –” She broke off with a gasp. The fine hairs at the nape of her neck had risen in awareness, her skin seeming to tighten over bone. She knew he’d arrived before she’d even laid eyes on him, and in the time it took her to turn her head in his direction, Kamran had already notched an arrow in his bow. “No,” she breathed.”

““Stand down,” came Hazan’s sharp voice, cutting through the haze of her mind. “This isn’t the moment.” Alizeh spun toward him, her heart in her throat, only to realize he was speaking to Kamran – who was carefully readjusting his aim, following Cyrus’s movements.-“That is not for you to decide,” said the prince.-“If you kill him now,” Hazan responded angrily, “you are committing to war between our empires, which you know would be a mistake. There are any number of witnesses pressing their faces against the windows, and it is all but certain that one of the servants has alerted the royal guard – we are no doubt only moments from being intercepted, and we’ll all be sentenced to death. You’ll have little hope of salvation from the Ardunian side, especially as Zahhak seeks to destroy you. I implore you to think this through –”-“Enough,” the prince bit back, sparing only a violent glance for his comrade. “If you think I will fumble an opportunity to exact revenge when it is within my grasp, you sorely misunderstand me –”- “I’m asking you only to wait, you fool! Your actions would incriminate us all – you put the child at risk – the young miss –”-“I warned them not to come,” came his dark reply. “I told them I wouldn’t be responsible if they got themselves killed –” “

“Cyrus couldn’t die. Not now. Not yet. Heavens, she thought. Not ever.She felt suddenly like she might scream at the prospect, her feelings on the matter so tangled they’d built a nest in her chest. Her own emotional chaos notwithstanding, Alizeh had every practical reason to keep Cyrus alive, too. She hadn’t even realized how much she’d come to rely on him until just that moment. No matter her many protests and prevarications, Alizeh had begun planning her life around the prospect of marrying the southern king – and of taking over Tulan. Only hours ago she’d finally stepped into the light, holding forth with thousands of Jinn who were counting on her to address them again soon. If Kamran killed their king – if he sent Tulan into turmoil and cemented the prospect of war – What would happen to her people? With no empire, no crown, and no resources, Alizeh would have no choice but to flee, yet again, abandoning her flock just hours after she’d promised to lead them. All this flashed through her mind with breathtaking speed; she knew it futile even to attempt conveying these thoughts to Kamran, who had every right to want Cyrus dead. She could acknowledge this: she could acknowledge Cyrus’s unforgivable crimes against Ardunia and its prince. She could acknowledge that he deserved retribution for these offenses. She could acknowledge that her reasons for keeping Cyrus alive were entirely selfish. It made no difference. She didn’t want him to die.Oh, if only she had her own land, if she could find her own magic – she’d leave both these empires and their heirs behind, for Kamran and Cyrus had proven nothing but trouble. But without resources – without horses or supplies – the necessary journey into the Arya mountains could take months on foot. And even if she were to survive the trek, she couldn’t do it alone. Five people had to be willing to die for her before the mountains parted with their magic. Overwhelmed, Alizeh felt tears prick her eyes.”

“convincing himself that an assault upon his empire – during the few remaining hours of night – was fairly low. This optimism, of course, had been born of denial. He’d lied to himself only so he wouldn’t have to turn around, take her by the arm, and walk her back to the palace. It was too much temptation: the two of them alone in the dark, her body glazed in moonlight. He’d been afraid to go near her; he hadn’t been ready to hear her voice, to look into her eyes. He was terrified she’d go and do something brutal, like smile at him.”

“Cyrus grimaced. He estimated he had precious few seconds before Alizeh’s peacemaking efforts failed and the prince released another shot.”

“With wicked quickness, Cyrus surprised even himself by catching this one in his hand; he grit his teeth through a rush of breathtaking pain, an agonized gasp escaping him as the triple-bladed point tore open his palm like the pages of a book. The bloodshed was considerable, and as he watched the small crimson flood spill over the edges of his fist he almost laughed, though the sentiment was cold. At least now he understood why the devil had been so delighted. That bastard.”

“With an angry shout, Kamran released a volley of arrows in Cyrus’s direction, one after another, the succession so smooth they seemed to come at him all at once. Even then Cyrus was able to appreciate his enemy’s skill; the Ardunian was an accomplished archer. Cyrus bit through a fresh wave of torment, lifting his good arm to divert a bit of magic in his own defense, dissolving the incoming arrows while still healing his wounds. He was preoccupied with this – this and the effort to keep steady in the face of the many small deaths aimed in his direction – which was why he didn’t notice, not right away, that she was running toward him.”

“Indeed this anger might’ve been the only thing he and the stupid prince agreed upon, for Kamran’s earsplitting cry of terror came just as Hazan and the others erupted in frenzied sound. Cyrus managed a choked cry before her soft body crashed into him, momentum rocking them both toward the very edge of the cliff, and if only there’d been time he would’ve pushed her out of harm’s way, would’ve turned her in his arms – With a sharp thwack the last arrow found its mark between her shoulder blades. Alizeh flinched under the force of impact, and her small, startled gasp rendered Cyrus absolutely, inhumanly still. Panic inhaled him. He felt blind with it, blind with madness. Alizeh whispered something incomprehensible against his neck, and he closed his eyes against a destructive swell of emotion, wishing desperately that he’d never been born. He didn’t realize at any point that he’d stumbled, that he’d lost his footing, or that they were falling – not until he felt the wind, like a heavy hand, rise up beneath them. And then let them drop.”

“Cyrus couldn’t feel the chill; fear and fury seemed to be burning him alive. He’d just made a decision, and now he would see it through. Alizeh would not die.“Look at me,” he said wretchedly, pulling her close even as his torn hand shook in agony. It seemed some strange twist of fate that he should continue to bleed all over her, and if he’d more time to reflect on this fact he might’ve screamed for how much he hated it. “Alizeh. Please. Lift your head. Look at me.” -With great effort, she did. Her eyes were glazed, flickering silver and brown in the rising light. She studied him like he might’ve been a dream. “Why? Because you’re terribly handsome?”-“Don’t be funny,” he said, breathing hard. “This isn’t funny.”-She blinked, her head lolling softly to one side. “I can’t feel my legs.” “

““I just – I just remembered,” she said. “I can’t swim.” There was no fear in her voice, only mild surprise – as if this were all a stroke of bad luck, a disappointing inconvenience. Cyrus didn’t point out that she wouldn’t have been able to swim anyway, given that she’d lost feeling in her legs. He only closed his eyes against her hair and fought the desperate crush of his chest, the violence of his affection for her. How she managed to disarm him even now, on the brink of death, he could not understand. She’d wept for his pain, wiped the blood from his eyes, taken an arrow in the back for him. She’d shown him more loyalty and tenderness in two days than he’d ever felt in his life, and he knew then, with a force that drove the air from his lungs, that he would never survive her.-“Don’t worry, angel,” he said quietly. “You won’t have to.” “

“Cyrus tore his eyes away, fresh bitterness fouling his mood further. “No,” he said finally. “She doesn’t know.” She would never know. Iblees had forbidden Cyrus from speaking the truth to another person, but the southern king had not been precluded from confiding in nonhuman creatures. Such an exception was only possible, of course, because the young man possessed the rare ability to communicate using just the mind. Whereas nearly all others endowed with this skill were committed to the priesthood, Cyrus – whose deal with the devil had earned him an expulsion from the temple – had been unable to complete his journey as a Diviner, leaving him the unusual layman with this skill.”

““– had a deal!” he was shouting. “I warned you – if any harm came to her –”-“Can you not imagine my agony?” came the prince’s heated reply. “How can you bring yourself to accuse me when you know it was an accident – that I could never have meant –”-“You could never?” Hazan laughed darkly. “Are you quite certain? When you confessed to me just yesterday that you intended to kill her?”

Cyrus stiffened. As if he didn’t have ammunition enough to murder the idiot. “What?” The loud girl, Huda, spoke. “Is that true?”(...)“Be certain of one thing,” Hazan said with quiet menace. “If she doesn’t survive this, you will know the full breadth of my rage. I’ll rip out every bone in your body before I take off your fucking head.” This last part he all but bellowed, the words echoing across the grounds. Fascinated by this absurd exchange – between a crown prince and his lesser – Cyrus almost smiled.-“You are overreacting –” Kamran tried again.-“And you are not reacting enough!” (..)”

“Hazan and Kamran were at each other’s throats, so preoccupied with their anger they thawed a beat later than the others, the three of whom gaped in horror at Cyrus, then Alizeh, who remained unmoving in his arms. The loud girl screamed. “She’s dead!” Miss Huda screamed again, shriller this time. “Heaven help us, she’s dead – we killed her – she’s dead –” Cyrus turned away from this chaos.”

““Yes, I think so.”-“All right.” He blinked slowly. “You can have a dragon.” Kaveh’s head gave a sudden jerk, smoke curling from his nostrils. Are you quite out of your mind, sire? You will not give the girl a dragon. Cyrus bristled. You live under my protection, in service of the crown. I’ll give her a dragon if I like.-Well it won’t be me.-“Cyrus?”-“Yes?”-“Why are people shouting?” With effort, Cyrus glanced at the others. Kamran was threatening from afar to disembowel him; the three goons were in various states of hysteria; and Hazan looked as if he was contemplating a running leap off the cliff and onto the dragon. Terrible idea, that.”

“The idiot Jinn is going to jump, said Kaveh. You must go, sire. You’ll receive word as soon as she’s safe. It was true; Hazan had a determined gleam in his eye. He was shaking off the child, whose futile efforts to pull the young man away from the ledge were almost endearing.”

“With a heavy head, he faced his visitors. Of the five who stood before him, it was Kamran whose gaze was impossible to ignore. Anger and hatred were so alive in the prince’s eyes they nearly forged a separate soul. It was the last thing he saw before he collapsed.”

““And what of Alizeh?” Miss Huda said with a cry. At the sound of her name, Kamran experienced a familiar shock of pain. “What’s happened to her?” the girl went on. “Where do you think she’s gone? That madman probably shipped her off to a dungeon somewhere –”-“That seems unlikely.” Hazan was stone-faced. “The dragon was heading west.”-“A-And?” Miss Huda faltered. “Are there no dungeons in the west?”-“Don’t worry, miss,” said Omid reassuringly. “It’ll be all right. I’m sure we’ll find her. I’m not sure how, exactly” – he dimmed – “if the king is dead. He’s probably the only one who knows where she went.”-Deen dragged both hands down his face. “Do you really think he’s dead? I feel terrible for the poor girl, but perhaps we should we run for our lives? Surely we’ll be executed for this?”-(……...)“It does seem curious,” Miss Huda mused, “that, despite the many faces pressed to the window, not a soul has stepped outside. I think if we were going to be tossed in the dungeons it might’ve happened already.”-Hazan was studying the palace windows, the many wide eyes peering down at them. “Yes, very curious,” he said quietly. “Where on earth is the royal guard to defend their king?” He walked over to Cyrus’s fallen body, crouching to get a better look. After a moment, he said gravely: “He’s certainly not dead, though his health has deteriorated with astonishing speed – which is strange, as his wounds aren’t terribly severe. His leg has stopped bleeding and the damage to his hand, while grotesque, is not enough to kill him. I can’t imagine why he’s lost consciousness.”-“Maybe he fainted,” offered Omid.-“I doubt that,” Kamran said darkly. “He doesn’t seem the type to lose his head over a little mutilation.”-“Blood loss, perhaps?” suggested Deen.-(…) “If that’s true” – her frown deepened – “I wonder why he didn’t use magic to spare himself of this moment now. He’s in a horribly vulnerable position. Just think: anyone at all might come along and” – she made a dramatic slicing motion with one hand – “chop off his head.” Omid giggled at that, and she giggled back, as if it were entirely the etiquette to be making jokes at such a moment. Kamran turned away from the infantile pair, grimacing against the sharp blade of a fresh headache.-“It’s possible he was dealt a blow to the head in the descent,” Hazan said quietly. “If he’s suffering from an internal injury he’ll need assistance at once. His situation is growing more uncertain by the moment.”-“Shall we let him die naturally, then?” More from the excruciating Miss Huda. “Or do you still intend to kill him?” This she asked as she whipped around to look at Kamran. Three other sets of eyes turned in his direction.-“Don’t you dare,” came Hazan’s low warning. Kamran shot his old friend a hateful look.The insipid king had fallen to the ground at his feet almost as if he were offering himself up to be killed. How easy it would’ve been to drive a dagger through his throat; indeed Kamran should’ve been thrilled – and yet he was nothing less than furious. He wanted the blackguard to get up and fight; what satisfaction could there be in impaling a corpse? Then again, the entire morning had been a tragic disappointment. First, Simorgh had abandoned them almost immediately after alighting; then, Alizeh had been discovered unconscious. Kamran had only just digested the revelation that she hadn’t betrayed him when Cyrus came into view, and it had been the perfect opportunity. He’d been inches from victory. Inches from exacting revenge upon the person responsible for the nightmare his life had recently become. That Alizeh had tried to save the blighted king was hard enough to understand – but that Kamran had shot her instead –For a terrible moment he thought he’d killed her. It would’ve been a tragedy – he knew that, knew it in his soul – but he was nursing a quiet anger toward her, too. Anger that she’d intruded upon a private matter, anger that she’d taken the side of his oppressor, anger that she’d foiled his plans. To make matters worse, she’d now complicated things horribly: she was injured and missing, and would require a second rescue. Lord knew what Cyrus had done to her, sending her off on the back of yet another blasted dragon to some godforsaken place.-“Why shouldn’t I kill him?” said the prince ominously.-“The simple answer,” said Hazan, “is that Alizeh begged you not to.”-Kamran’s expression grew only stormier. “Is that all? You think I should’ve let him live simply because she wanted me to?”-“Is that not enough? You did as you pleased and nearly killed her in the process –”-“A terrible accident!”-“And where is your remorse?” Hazan demanded. “Why do you express no concern for her well-being – why do you remain preoccupied only with your own disappointments, when we came here with the express purpose of saving her –”-“I came here with one purpose.” Kamran cut him off, his eyes flashing. “And that was to avenge my grandfather.”-Hazan fell silent a moment. “Even now?” he said. “Even after discovering your grandfather was wrong about her? Can you not relinquish your anger long enough to realize that Alizeh needs our help –”-Kamran flinched. “Stop saying her name!”-“My humble opinion?” Deen cleared his throat and lifted a finger. “You might consider killing the king now, Your Highness. It does seem a good opportunity. You could finish up, and we could fly straight home.” He picked up a fallen arrow and offered it to Kamran as if he needed it – as if he didn’t have any number of weapons concealed on his body. “If we move quickly, we might even be back in time for supper.”-“But Simorgh and her children are gone,” said Miss Huda. “And I suppose we haven’t any way of knowing whether they’ll return –”-“Alizeh did not betray you!” Hazan insisted, ignoring all this. “She was wrongly accused by both your grandfather and yourself. You had proof of this today and still you persist in this attitude. Our focus now should be finding her – saving her – not wallowing in personal vendettas. How can you not see the damage you’re doing?” He shook his head. “Your thirst for revenge has blinded you, Kamran.” “

““I am sorry she was injured. I’m sorrier to have been the one to cause her harm. But she had no business interfering, and I’m no longer certain she needs saving.”-“She was just carried off on the back of a dragon!”-“She chose to protect him!” Kamran shot back. “She took an arrow in the back for the bastard who nearly killed me! Perhaps you can imagine why I’m struggling to feel sympathy.”-“I trust that she had good reason for acting as she did.”-“And your blind faith is going to get you killed.”-“Watch yourself.” Hazan’s eyes had gone flinty. “You speak of her as if she’s some capricious girl, and not the prophesied savior of my people. If she didn’t want you to kill him, I’m certain she had justification. She felt so strongly that she pleaded with you – she physically turned down your bow and still you defied her wishes –”-“Her wishes?” Kamran all but exploded. “And what of mine? What of my dead grandfather, my dead Diviners, my broken empire, my disfigured face –”-“Oh, it’s really not that bad, sire,” Deen assured him. “Truly, I’ve seen quite a number of disfigurations, and yours –”-“ – doesn’t diminish your beauty at all,” finished Miss Huda, nodding eagerly. “In fact, I think it suits you nicely –”-“Well I think he looks ugly,” Omid countered. “And I don’t think it’s good to lie to him –”-“Are you raving idiots incapable of shutting your mouths for a single, bloody second?” Kamran cried, his chest heaving with fury. Both he and Hazan turned to look upon their audience, all members chastened save Miss Huda, who was staring slack-jawed at Kamran with a disappointment so severe it bore a resemblance to heartbreak. She didn’t move except to blink her devastated eyes at him, and in the proceeding silence Kamran realized she was waiting for an apology – an expectation so absurd it cemented in his mind the unnerving fear that the young miss was, in fact, delusional. He witnessed the moment her light went out – naive hope extinguished – before she finally spoke. “Come along, Omid,” she said tightly, taking the boy by the hand. “I’m beginning to realize that princes aren’t nearly as charming as I’d been led to believe.” Then, more quietly: “This one, in particular, has fallen well beneath my expectations – which I fear were great, indeed.” “

““You were too harsh,” Hazan said quietly to the prince. “They didn’t deserve to receive the brunt of your misdirected anger –”-“They should learn to hold their tongues,” Kamran snapped. “They talk too much. All of them.”-Hazan, too reasonable to deny a proven fact, only sighed in response.”

““I don’t know, and I don’t care!” sang Miss Huda. “I’m no longer interested in the lives, deaths, and bloated heads of royalty. I’ve put up with enough snobbery in my life, I think, and I’ve just decided I’m quite done with it. Besides, I didn’t come all this way to manage the tantrums of an overgrown child, I came here to help Alizeh – who, despite her apparent crown, never once spoke to me in such an insulting manner.” She turned to her companions. “Did Alizeh ever speak to either of you in such an insulting manner?”-Kamran flinched at the repeated sound of Alizeh’s name, even as he listened to this exchange in mute astonishment.-“No, miss,” said Omid with an eager shake of his head.-“No, miss,” said Deen with an uncertain glance back at the prince. He couldn’t believe – The nerve of her – He never tolerated such insolence from anyone, much less an ill-tempered, illegitimate miss of no distinction. Even Omid, who’d once tested his patience to the hilt, had quickly learned deference. That she would dare insult him and speak of him with such condescension, as if he were beneath her – and he, the impending king to the greatest empire on earth – Hell, it was his prerogative to have her banished from Ardunia forevermore should he choose to do so, and yet”

“At once Hazan took advantage of his stupor to step forward, shielding Cyrus’s crumpled body from view. “A final warning, Kamran,” he said quietly. “I don’t take orders from you anymore. My queen issued a command to keep this fool alive and I will honor that, even if I don’t understand it. Try to kill him, and you’ll have to go through me.” It was a moment before Kamran recovered himself, tearing his mind away from the horrors of Huda to this, the more present catastrophe, and when he did, disappointment dampened his fervor. -“Of all the scenarios I might’ve imagined,” he said finally, “I never thought you’d stand against me in this. That you would defend him.”-“I never imagined I would, either,” Hazan said with a long-suffering sigh. He dragged a hand through his hair before glancing again at the prone body of the southern king. “At the very least, I need him alive long enough to discover what happened to Alizeh – and what he did with her. Until such a time, he will remain under my protection.”-“You would really fight me?” Kamran said, regaining a shade of his earlier temper. “If I challenged you now – you’d be willing to die for him?”-“For her,” Hazan corrected. “Without hesitation. Though you flatter yourself if you think you could best me in a fight. You’ve never truly known me, Kamran, and I’d hate for you to make my acquaintance only as you draw your final breath.” The prince raised his eyebrows. It was the way Hazan had said it – without arrogance or swagger – that gave him pause. In fact, Hazan seemed to mean the words sincerely, as if he’d indeed regret a bloody conclusion to their friendship. Except –-“If that’s true,” said the prince, “why didn’t you fight back when the guards dragged you away at the ball? If you’re as capable as you claim, you might’ve saved your queen then.”-Hazan looked away. “I should have.”-“And yet?”-“My greatest failing that night,” he said gravely, “was that I didn’t anticipate Cyrus. I’d no idea another plan for her had been hatched alongside my own; hell, I didn’t even know Cyrus was in possession of her name, much less a scheme to spirit her away. My own plans for the evening had been compromised; all I wanted was her safety and anonymity, and I’d hoped the distraction of my betrayal would afford her an opportunity to run. Never did I imagine that in my absence she’d take her exit through the palace wall, on the back of a Tulanian dragon. Never did I imagine she’d end up here, in this godforsaken hell,” he added angrily, meeting the prince’s eyes. “I’ve gone through it in my mind dozens of times, hating myself more each time for failing her. Understand me now: I refuse to fail her again.”-The prince was silent as he appraised Hazan a moment more: the set to

his jaw, the grim resolve in his gaze. “I see that you’re determined,” he said finally. “And I’ll grant you this one concession, Hazan, but never again. You may keep him alive until your queen is found, but when the time comes for him to die, be certain that I will set the terms.” “

““I am Queen Sarra,” she said with a strange smile. “And you must be Prince Kamran, of Ardunia.” Carefully she cataloged his fresh scar, the glittering vein of gold that split through his left eye. “I’ve heard a great deal about you, of course. My condolences.” Kamran maintained his silence, though he was resisting an urge then to destroy something. That she might stand there and offer him condolences as if she were remarking upon the weather – and her own child responsible –-“Are you quite certain,” she said delicately, “that you’re not going to kill my son?”-“There was a serious misunderstanding, Your Majesty,” said Hazan, stepping forward. “The king appears to be unwell.” She glanced at Cyrus’s collapsed, bleeding body. “I can see that.” At this cold reaction, even Kamran frowned. The woman’s son was half-dead on the ground, and she inspected him as if he were diseased. She was either demented or dangerously malicious; Kamran hadn’t yet decided. (..)“Well,” she said, and took a sharp breath. “I suppose you must all be tired from your journey. Do come inside. Breakfast is well underway.”-“Breakfast?” Hazan echoed.-“Breakfast,” Omid said eagerly, then hesitated. “Wait” – he stepped back – “you’re not going to throw us in the dungeons, are you?”-Sarra tilted her head at the boy, then responded to him in his native tongue. “You speak Feshtoon, how lovely. And where are you from?”-Omid straightened to his full height. “I’m from Yent, of Fesht province, miss. I mean, Your Ladyship.” Huda elbowed him and he squeaked. “I mean – Your Majesty.”-The woman’s eyes softened. “My mother was from Fesht,” she said. “I haven’t been back since I was a little girl.”-“Forgive me,” Hazan interjected. “But the king requires swift medical attention. Perhaps we should send for a surgeon, or a Diviner –”-“Are your parents still in Fesht?” Sarra went on. “Or did you move to the royal city with your family?”- Omid shot a nervous look at Hazan before answering the woman’s question. “My parents are dead,” he said, and in a gesture of respect for the deceased, he touched two fingers to his forehead, then to the air. “Inta sana zorgana le pav wi saam.” May their souls be elevated to the highest peace.-“As are mine,” she said softly, mirroring the motion. “Inta ghama spekana le luc nipaam.” May their sorrows be sent to an unknown place.-“I – Thank you, miss.” Omid ducked his head in acknowledgment and, after another nudge from Huda he added: “I mean – Your Highness, ma’am.” “

““I’m afraid we must decline,” said Kamran, issuing his first words to the woman. He was now certain beyond a doubt that she was mad; there was no chance he’d be accompanying her anywhere.-“But, sire,” said Omid, “she said there was breakfast –”-“I know the situation is unusual,” said Sarra, her eyes sharp as she turned to Kamran, the smile on her face belying her next words. “But if you don’t accompany me inside, there will be hell to pay. As you may recall, you came here this morning with the intention of murdering my son –”-“It was not as it seemed, Your Majesty,” Deen said nervously. “Most of us meant no harm –”-“– and, having been unsuccessful, you think you might cut your losses and head home. You’ve failed to realize that you stand here now only because of me, because of the amnesty I am willing to provide. You need not understand my motivations, but you should understand this: your actions have been witnessed by all in the palace. Did you really think no one would note the appearance of five legendary, magical birds in our sky? That no one would observe them alighting upon our land?” Deen made a strangled sound. “Very clever of you, I should say,” she added softly. “There’s only one creature alive to whom dragons show such deference, else you never would’ve survived your descent onto the palace grounds. Though how you managed to secure the protection of Simorgh is a mystery I should dearly like to solve.” She narrowed her eyes at Kamran. “I presume it has something to do with the fabled tale of your grandfather.”-“Oh, yes, miss,” said Omid, “it really is an amazing story –” “

““Hated as he might be in Ardunia,” Sarra pressed on, “the Tulanian king is rather beloved at home. So unless you hope for our empires to go to war – or you wish to be murdered in the street – you will join me,” she said through gritted teeth, “for breakfast.”-Kamran was still contemplating this shocking speech, and still contemplating his response, when Hazan interrupted angrily “How can you stand there and monologue while your son lies bleeding on the ground? Your actions are so baffling as to confound the mind! Ma’am, the king is dying. I am asking you to call for help at once –  before it is too late.” To this outburst Sarra showed no reaction, never even glancing at Hazan. Instead, she kept her eyes fixed on the prince, her strange smile now bordering on manic. As he met her gaze, Kamran felt a bolt of dread move through him. It was true: he had no idea what they’d just walked into. He had no idea what Alizeh had experienced during her time here; he didn’t know who this woman was, what her intentions were, or where the devil Simorgh had gone. Heavens, but he needed her badly now. More than that, he needed his grandfather. He’d even settle for a kind word from his mother.”

““Very well,” he said, discreetly locking eyes with Hazan. It took this single look to confirm what they both understood: there was something deeply the matter with Sarra, and they should tread cautiously where she was concerned. “We’d be honored to join you for breakfast.” “

““Dinner?” said Kamran, alarmed. “When we’ve yet to endure breakfast?”-“I don’t – But it’s the only dress I have –” attempted Huda, who was blushing fiercely.-“Your Majesty, please –” Hazan tried again.-“I think you look real pretty, miss,” insisted Omid, inching closer to the girl as if he might protect her. “Don’t listen to her –” “

““Oh, for the love of –” Hazan cut himself off with a foul oath. He shot a final, disgusted look at the Queen Mother, stomped over to Cyrus, gathered up the king’s body, and hoisted him over his shoulders. Kamran watched this happen with no small amount of astonishment. Cyrus was taller and broader than even he was – the deadweight of such a man would be extraordinary. He knew Hazan possessed immense Jinn strength, but this was still a fairly new revelation, and Kamran marveled at the ease with which his old minister carried Cyrus now. Hazan pushed past their small crowd, circumventing Sarra to hurry toward the closest entrance. He tried the handle and, finding it was locked, bellowed a brief warning before kicking down the door. It collapsed with an earsplitting crash. Omid and Huda screamed. Deen muttered a faint dear God under his breath. Even Kamran was stunned. He glanced at Sarra for a reaction, and she revealed nothing more than irritation. “Your king is injured!” Hazan cried as he stepped over the threshold, and he was swarmed at once by harried servants. “He needs medical attention immediately –” “

“Kamran couldn’t help but compare this moment to one of his own: the night his grandfather had been murdered, when he’d been bested by Cyrus and left broken and dying. When his mother had finally freed him from the binds of magical paralysis, she’d disappeared – and he’d fallen to the floor. Not even a servant had been willing to step out of the shadows to come to his aid. In the end, only Omid had come to him; somehow, miraculously, despite receiving nothing but unkindness from the prince, the former street child had saved his life. It had been an enormous gift – one Kamran still struggled to appreciate – but it was nothing like the reception Cyrus received now. The hated king’s servants appeared to truly care for him, which was so foreign a concept to Kamran it was difficult to accept as fact. It was also entirely at odds with the reaction the young man had received from Sarra, his own mother. Kamran was studying the woman carefully now, sizing her up as he might an opponent on the battlefield. She was watching the scene unfold as if it were a great disappointment. Kamran’s mother, for all her faults, had at least tried to help him in her strange way; Cyrus’s parent, meanwhile, had done everything she could to avoid assisting her own child. She shook her head, offered a fleeting smile to the prince, and said, “Well, there’s always tomorrow,” before stepping inside. Kamran remained frozen in the doorway.”

“Omid had gathered up his flatware in one hand, inspecting the bunch as if it were a bouquet of flowers. “Put those down,” Deen hissed from across the table. Huda, who was seated next to Omid, pressed nervously on the boy’s arm, and he dropped the utensils to the table with a clatter. Kamran closed his eyes in irritation.-“Why are there so many spoons?” he heard the child say. “And where is the food?” Hazan shook his head at the boy, hard.(...)“This is what happens when you don’t listen to me,” Hazan muttered under his breath. “Idiot.” The prince glared at him.-“And what is your duty here?” Sarra turned her cloying smile on Deen, who seemed to shrink under her attention.-“I’m – I’m an apothecarist, Your Majesty.” When she continued to stare, he grew nervous and began to ramble. “I own and operate an apothecary in the royal square. In Setar. That is, in Ardunia. I learned the trade from my mother. Started when I was a boy. I come h-highly recommended. Excellent reviews. Customers are pleased.”-Sarra drew back, hmming as she considering this, and seemed to decide he was a sensible choice for a royal retinue. “You,” she said to Huda. “What purpose do you serve?” Huda blanched. She looked around uncertainly, her brown eyes wide with fear, and for the first time, Kamran studied her in earnest. Her hideous yellow gown was travel-worn and dusty, streaks of dirt visible along the frilly sleeves and high ruff, which was presently choking her throat. She appeared to have no neck. She wore no jewels save a small, glittering stud of an earring, and only in one ear. Her hair was scraped back from her face in an unadorned knot that did her no favors, and, in fact, gave her head the unfortunate appearance of an egg. Kamran had never spent long considering Huda, for he’d never felt there was much to consider. He was not surprised, however, to find himself observing her now, for it was his practice to form a thorough assessment of his adversaries – and it was safe to say that this infuriating chit had recently made an enemy of him. She had some charms, however. On a different occasion in her acquaintance he’d noted her elegant bone structure, but he noticed now that she had deep, inky eyes that looked perpetually languid, ready for bed. It was the kind of half-lidded gaze that reminded him, with a twinge of awareness, that her birth mother was a courtesan.”

“It was negligible – the way she jolted, briefly squeezing her eyes shut –and Kamran would’ve missed it had he not been staring at her directly. Yet he frowned at this, for it had seemed an involuntarily reaction of one bracing for violence. It made him wonder whether she’d been struck as a child, and he was shocked by the spark of anger he experienced at the thought. Huda clasped her trembling hands before tucking them out of sight; he watched as she drew breath before she smiled, as if she were summoning courage. “I – well, that is – I’m not sure a person should be reduced to a single purpose,” she said, “for the human heart is known to contain such diversity of feeling and expression –” “She’s here for the queen,” Hazan flatly supplied. Kamran glanced at him. “Miss Huda is lady-in-waiting to Her Majesty.” Huda sank back in her seat with relief, staring gratefully at Hazan.”

“Kamran almost choked. As if Alizeh’s otherworldly beauty could ever be threatened by Huda, who continued to resemble an egg swaddled in the implausible scramble of its own yolk. He made a great effort to suppress a laugh, only for Huda to level him a glare so murderous it was practically treason. By the angels, Kamran was going to be a bloody king. Men had been executed for lesser offenses. He returned her glare with a furious glower of his own, briefly blinded by an outrageous desire to throw her over his shoulder, toss her in a boat, and send her out to sea.”

“Hazan swore under his breath again and Kamran was tempted to do the same. Sarra had gone still, staring at Huda as if she’d lost her mind. “You commissioned her?” the woman echoed. “You commissioned a queen, you mean, to make you a gown? Are you daft, girl? Tell me you aren’t serious.”-Huda looked around nervously before biting her lip. “No?” At the warning look from Hazan, she cleared her throat. “N-No. Certainly not,” she said quietly. “I wasn’t at all serious.”-Sarra lost her patience then.-“You,” she barked, turning to Hazan. “You seem to be the piece most likely to finish this puzzle. Tell me what you know of the girl.”-“What I know of her is none of your business.” Omid gasped; Deen paled. Kamran almost cracked a smile.”

““Kamran – listen to me – it’s not true, she hasn’t accepted him yet –”-“Yet?” he exploded. “What do you mean, she hasn’t accepted him yet?” For a moment, Kamran could’ve sworn he heard Sarra laughing; but when he looked at her, she appeared entirely composed. “Here I was thinking I understood the motivations for your visit,” she said to him, her smile growing wider. “Now I see why you’ve truly come.”-“You spread unsubstantiated lies,” Hazan protested.-“Lies?” Sarra’s eyes widened. “Ask any servant in the palace what’s preoccupied their time lately; they’ll tell you they’ve been preparing for the arrival of the king’s bride.”-“That doesn’t mean she’s going to marry him –”-“Then why, pray tell, did I intercept her leaving my son’s bedchamber just last night?” “

““She lies, Kamran. I asked Alizeh this morning whether she was betrothed to the Tulanian king, and she told me emphatically that she was not. Despite having received an offer of marriage, she’s still considering her options –”-“Considering her options? That she would even consider marriage to the man who killed my grandfather – who nearly killed me – who murdered our Diviners –”-“And who are you,” Sarra said to Hazan, her eyes hardening, “to call me a liar? What purpose do you serve here in this royal court of misfits?” She held up a finger. “No, wait – let me guess. Things are becoming clearer,

I see it now. At first I’d assumed that you, the boldest of these simpletons –” “

““I took you for a knight. I realize only now that your allegiance is, in fact, with the girl – and I’d love to know why. Who are you?” She tilted her head at Hazan. “So fiercely impassioned. So loyal. Don’t tell me you’re in love with her, too?” Huda drew a sharp breath.-“Good heavens,” Deen said softly, then looked at Omid, who was shaking his head in horror.-Kamran, who’d never before considered this possibility, was entirely rattled. Slowly, he turned to face his friend. It was a long, torturous moment before Hazan said, in a lethal whisper, “How dare you.”-At that, the room seemed to exhale, and Sarra appeared to blossom. -“Oh, I think I like you,” she said. “I suppose I’ll let your troupe live long enough to see the bride in all her glory.”-“But I thought” – Huda gaped – “I thought you’d already decided to let us live. In fact, I thought we’d come here to have breakfast.”-“I tend to change my mind,” Sarra said dismissively, before eyeing the prince. “I think it might be interesting to see how all this drama ends. I love a tragic love story.”-With controlled anger, Kamran said, “I’m not in love with her.”-Hazan turned sharply in his seat. “What?” “

“He directed his next words to Sarra. “You seem to be under the impression that I’ve come here on a mission of unrequited love. That’s simply not true.”-“Kamran –”-“I just want to be clear” – he lifted a hand – “that while I admire her a great deal, I’m not in love with her.”-Somehow, this honesty seemed to anger Hazan. “You told me you wanted to marry her!”-“What?” Huda froze in an almost comical state of shock. “You wanted to marry her?”-“I did,” Kamran said to Hazan, ignoring this outburst. “I think I still might. But every minute brings me more confusion, and every revelation complicates her = character. I’m realizing I haven’t the faintest idea who she is. It was a weak thread that bound us if she’s already considering an alliance with the person responsible for destroying my life.” “

“Then, to Deen: “What about you? Did you know?”-“Certainly not,” came Deen’s dry reply. “The prince does not make a habit of involving me in the emotional turns of his heart. Though I have to admit it’s an interesting twist of fate, considering the way she once spoke of him in my shop.”-“She spoke of me?” Kamran faced him at once. “When? What did she say?”-Sarra laughed. “Yet he claims he’s not in love with her.”-Kamran looked at the woman. “Do you presume to know my own feelings better than I do?”-“It wasn’t altogether flattering, sire,” said Deen, flustered. “I shouldn’t have even mentioned –”-“What did she say about me?” Kamran demanded.-The apothecarist stiffened in his seat, his small dark eyes shifting. “She – Well, she seemed to question, sire, whether your lack of engagement with the general public spoke to an a-arrogance, or pretension, in your character –”-“Arrogance?”-Huda released a sharp, horrible chortle before clapping a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she wheezed. “I just – Heavens, I already knew I adored her, but now –” “

“As a young prince with a direct line to the throne, Kamran had been taught to consider himself vastly superior in the world and was seldom encouraged to look beyond the gilded tiers of his own domain. Only through Alizeh’s interference was he inspired to examine the rotted structures that informed the suffering of so many. She was the reason he’d questioned, for the first time, the actions and motivations of his grandfather King Zaal. She was the reason he’d questioned, for the first time, the insufficient wages and protections of servants. She was the reason his eyes had been opened to the struggles of street children in their empire. Her perspective – her patient eye for the anguish of others – had turned his own gaze toward the less fortunate, inspiring him to see not only the social failings within his kingdom but also the ways in which he might be called upon to address them. Nevertheless, the unfortunate truth was that Kamran had never thought to examine his own biases until his life had collapsed around him. It had never occurred to him that an unshakable belief in his own greatness might prove a weakness. Indeed, it had never occurred to him that life might one day deal him a lesser hand. Perhaps, he thought with a pang, this was the very definition of arrogance. Kamran stifled a sigh.”

““The more I learn about this young woman,” Sarra was saying, “the more I look forward to welcoming her into my family.”-“Then you will be horribly disappointed,” said Hazan. “Such a marriage

will not take place.”-“It will,” Sarra countered.-“What do you care who she marries?” Kamran said, his eyes darkening as he turned to her. “What interest do you have in her union with your son?” “

““I mean it,” Omid insisted. “You’ve never met a kinder person. I tried to kill her in the street once, and instead of handing me to the magistrates, she offered me bread. I bet you’ve never tried to kill someone, ma’am, and had them offer you bread.” Sarra’s lips parted in silent astonishment.-She blinked rapidly, first at Omid, then at Kamran, and, sounding a bit breathless, she said, “I’m afraid you’ve just raised more questions than answers, child.”-“She may not be magical now,” Hazan interjected, “but she will have magic. And when she comes to possess it, the entire world will recognize her power.”-“Is that so?” A flicker of unease moved in and out of Sarra’s eyes. “And what kind of magic will she come to possess?”-“I don’t… know yet.”-“I see,” she said wryly. “Sounds formidable.”-Hazan sent her a black look, but Sarra turned away, studying the prince with renewed interest. “So you’ve come because you seek her rumored power, sire, and not her heart?”-“I came here to kill your son,” Kamran said flatly. “Little else animates my interest at the moment.”-Sarra clapped her hands together. “In that case, you must stay until the end of the season, at the very least. Though if you do manage to kill Cyrus, I beg you to make it appear an accident, for I detest war, and do not desire bloodshed between our lands.” The five of them, collectively, stared at her.”

““You fool,” Sarra snapped, standing up so fast her chair fell over with a thud. “If I’d seen anything of the sort do you think I would’ve wasted my time with the lot of you? What on earth happened to her?”-Hazan, who appeared as disconcerted by this eruption as Kamran was, said carefully: “She was caught by a stray arrow.”-Sarra made a guttural, mournful sound. “By whose hand?”-“Why is that important?”-“It’s of the utmost importance!” she shouted. “If Cyrus had anything to do with it” – she shook her head – “oh, I’ll kill him, I’ll really do it this time. By the angels, they’re going to riot again. They’ll set fire to the castle–”-“Who?” Deen asked, eyes darting around. “Who’s going to set fire to the castle?”-“When I’m upset,” Omid said helpfully, “I like to take a walk, and search the streets for spare coin –”-Huda squeezed the boy’s hand. “Not now, dear.”-“It was me,” Kamran said in an undertone. “I shot her by accident.”-“You.” Sarra straightened in obvious relief, pressing a hand to her chest. “It was you. Yes, we’ll tell them you did it. Your empire will take the blame. It was all your fault –”-“What are you talking about?” Hazan demanded. “Who are you referring to?”-“The Jinn!” she cried. “Thousands and thousands of them! I swear they were going to kill us all!”-“The Jinn?” Kamran echoed softly, stunned.-Hazan rose slowly from the table, his countenance visibly altered. His old friend looked shaken, his eyes burning with feeling. “What Jinn?” he said.-“Last night, they stormed the castle,” Sarra said, her breathing shallow. “Our Jinn population is normally very gentle – unlike most empires, we allow them a measure of freedom to exercise their abilities without penalty– but yesterday – yesterday they were terrifying and violent. They threatened to burn down the palace. They threatened to destroy the city. They wanted proof that she was alive, that she was unharmed –”-“I need you to be clear,” Hazan said to Sarra, a slight tremor in his voice. “Do you mean to say she was discovered? That she’s been revealed publicly as the long-lost heir to the Jinn kingdom?”-Kamran felt a twist in his gut.-“So that’s what she is?” Huda exclaimed. “I knew she was some kind of forgotten royal, but she never told me her true identity, only that she was running for her life –”-“It’s not some courtesy title?” Deen asked. “She’s a real queen, then? All that time I’d thought she was a servant… And that horrible housekeeper, the way she treated her –”-“Servant?” Sarra stood frozen. “Housekeeper? What in heavens can you mean?”-“My queen has been in hiding for nearly two decades,” Hazan explained. “She’s taken odd jobs since the untimely deaths of her parents” he touched two fingers to his forehead, then to the air – “doing what she could to stay alive.” “

““So she lived as a snoda?” asked Sarra. She’d picked up her fallen chair and was taking her seat when she glanced at Huda. “And a seamstress?”-“Yes,” she and Hazan said together.-“And now she is queen,” the woman said softly, her eyes dreamy. “Now she has the sovereigns of two empires vying for her hand. Now she – Wait–” Sarra turned sharply toward the prince.-“The Ardunian throne was threatened by her existence,” she quoted. “Does that mean it was your grandfather who murdered her family?”All heads swiveled to face him.-“Theoretically,” he bit out. “Though there is no proof.”-Sarra laughed. “You hope to marry the young woman whose entire family was slaughtered by your grandfather?”-“Again, it is not a certainty –”-“Your Majesty,” Hazan interjected, his voice urgent. “I fear we’re diverting from the subject at hand. Can you confirm that her identity has been revealed?”-Sarra met Hazan’s eyes then, and in the feverish depths of his gaze, she seemed to find focus. “Yes,” she said finally. “I don’t know how she was discovered; I know only that they came for her yesterday. Thousands of them. Shouting for hours. They only settled down after I begged her to speak to them –”-“She stood before them?” Hazan asked, paling. “She acknowledged, out loud, that she was their queen?”-Sarra hesitated. “Was it the wrong thing to do?”-“No.” Hazan blinked. “No, if she felt the time was right, then of course, it’s just – By the angels, this cannot be undone. The consequences –” He lifted his head, looking suddenly unnerved. “You must prepare yourself, ma’am. By now, word of her appearance has likely spread halfway around the globe. They’ll come for her from every corner of the earth – they’ve likely begun their pilgrimages already –”-“What?” Sarra said, visibly terrified. “How many will come?”-Hazan shook his head. “It won’t happen all at once. They’ll push through your borders in phases –”-“How many?” she cried.-“Millions,” Hazan whispered.”

“This imagined torture was as real to him as his mother’s hatred, and echoes of these miseries lingered on in his waking hours with a verisimilitude that haunted him. Like a wounded animal Cyrus dragged his body across the pitted floor of this unknown hell, searching fruitlessly for an exit.”

“Always she healed him as she touched him, each graze of her fingers mending a bone, a laceration, erasing pain. He cried out every time, unimaginable feeling flooding his heart and mind, her very closeness sending him into a spiral of need so desperate he didn’t recognize himself. He soon submitted entirely to her touch, leaning into her hands as she drew them slowly down his body. The sensations were so blissfully torturous that he wondered, for a delirious moment, whether he’d died. “Angel,” he breathed. “My angel.” “

“No one had ever cared for him as she did. Finally, his eyes closed. A feeling of calm overcame him, allowing him to rest as he never did in her absence. Here, he was safe. With her, he was safe. When he opened his eyes again, they were lying in his bed. She was naked in his arms, the silken crush of her lush curves a delicious relief against the hard planes of his body.”

“But Cyrus was shaken, watching her with a hunger he couldn’t fathom into words. “You could probably kill me and I’d thank you for it.”-She stiffened and drew back. “Don’t say that,” she said sharply. “That’s not funny.”-“I’m not joking.”-“Cyrus –”-“I want it all, angel. Not just your joy but your sorrow. Not just your hope but your fear. I want your anger and disdain, your frustration and contempt –” “

“He loved all of her: the shape of her lips, her hips, her slender hands and the freckle at the base of her throat. He’d kissed that freckle a thousand times, had spent countless hours learning her, loving her, discovering the desires of her body. It didn’t matter how many nights he’d spent in her arms. Always, in her presence, he felt himself coming apart with a need that felt a great deal like madness.”

“She had so much power over him it was terrifying even to examine the way she owned his soul. When he finally managed to meet her gaze, his heart seemed to detonate in his chest – and her eyes, heavy with desire, shone briefly with amusement.”

“Without warning his head clouded; his lungs contracted in his chest. He felt as if he was pitching forward, falling out of his body. He didn’t understand – he couldn’t sort through his thoughts – and what was he remembering? Gasping for breath now, remembering –This was a dream.”

““No – no – NO,” he shouted, falling off the bed. “This isn’t real, this isn’t real – wake up, you fucking idiot – wake up, wake up, WAKE UP –”

““MILLIONS,” HAZAN SAID AGAIN, HIMSELF thunderstruck. Kamran processed this revelation as if from afar, both awed and horrified. His grandfather might not have been right about Alizeh – not precisely – but he’d not been altogether wrong, either. Like a cold wind, he felt the rush of Zaal’s voice, words from the man’s final days coming to life inside his mind –If you do not think there are others searching for her right now, you are not paying close enough attention. Pockets of unrest in the Jinn communities continue to disturb our empire. There are many among them deluded enough to think the resurrection of an old world is the only way to move forward.”

“He realized, with a shock, that he didn’t know Alizeh at all. He’d fallen for a mirage of a girl. A version of her that had never truly existed.Sarra was stunned into speechlessness, and Kamran felt much the same.-“How many millions?” Deen asked, blinking.-“I don’t know,” Hazan said quietly. “This is merely an estimate. There are very few empires that live in peace with my people. Many Jinn live and die undocumented, forced to live out their lives in prison camps. Others continue to live in hiding. We are a people with no nation, expelled from our own land, the earth under our feet stolen by Clay kings. For so long we’ve been waiting for the heir to our empire, the one who will protect and unify our people. I have no way of knowing for certain how many will come” – he shook his head – “but you may trust that those who can, will. By foot, by caravan, by ship or dragon. If they have to drag themselves, inch by inch across the earth to get to her, they will.” “

“Kamran watched this strange scene from a cold distance; he felt frozen in his seat, astonished by his own fear, his pulse racing as he was struck by another blow of memory. His grandfather had tried to warn him. If the girl were to claim her place as the queen of her people, it is possible, even with the brace of the Fire Accords, that an entire race would pledge their allegiance to her on the basis of an ancient loyalty alone… The Jinn of Ardunia would form an army; the remaining civilians would riot. An uprising would wreak havoc across the land. Peace and security would be demolished for months – years, even – in the pursuit of an impossible dream–Hells, he’d been so naive.”

““She won’t die,” Hazan said harshly.-“Cyrus sent her off on the back of a dragon,” said Kamran. “The king is the only one who knows where she went, and as he is currently indisposed, we have no way of knowing what he did with her.”-At that, Sarra regained a flicker of her edge, her anger. “So she did not fall off a cliff and disappear. My son sent the injured girl away.”-Kamran narrowed his eyes at her tone. “Indeed.” “

“Sarra opened her mouth to respond, then appeared to think better of it, saying only: “Have you never seen the way he looks at her?”-“No,” he said, his mood darkening. “In fact I have not.” -She offered a brittle smile. “Well. I suppose you’ll see for yourself soon enough.”-“What’s that supposed to mean?”-Sarra looked at Kamran then as if he were not the impending heir to the largest empire on earth but an idiot child. “I’d bet my life,” she said, turning her eyes to Hazan, “that he’s entrusted one of his blasted dragons to help her. If the girl were badly injured, there’s only one place he’d –”-“The Diviners,” Hazan said. “Of course.”-“Really?” Huda frowned. “You really think he was trying to help her?” “

“Omid made a face. “And why did he ask her to marry him if all he wanted was to kill her?”-“Well, I don’t know,” said Huda, “but my parents have been married nearly thirty years and Mother is all the time going on about how much she’d like to kill Father, and in fact I worry, sometimes, that he doesn’t seem to take her seriously –”-Kamran leaned forward, insisting: “It does not stand to reason. The king, too, was injured – had they gone to the Diviners, he might’ve received care for his own wounds. It makes more sense that he might’ve cursed her, binding her to the dragon before sending her off into the unknown, all so that we might never find her –”-“He’s not allowed to set foot in the temple,” said Sarra, her words dripping with condescension. “Cyrus is forbidden even from walking the grounds. Ever since he murdered my husband, the Diviners have refused him entrance.” Kamran stiffened. It was the casual way she stated the horrifying fact that cast a brief pall over the room, and it was the reminder they all needed: the truth of who King Cyrus really was, how blackened was his soul.”

“Something like relief began to expand in his chest. Perhaps this was what the Diviners had meant for him to accomplish; perhaps proving his worth as king was bound up in the search for his queen. Perhaps the magic in his body had altered because he was not meant to be the sole ruler of Ardunia. He felt a purifying clarity then, a feeling of ease cleansing weeks of tension. Kamran had been lost and confused, confounded by grief, by the machinations of Zahhak, the demands of the Diviners. Now he understood. His presence here, in this godforsaken empire, became suddenly tolerable. He would find a way to stay. He needed to speak with Alizeh at the first opportunity and make his intentions clear. After all, he’d never made her any formal offer. Surely such a proposal would appeal to her now; surely she would see the advantages of such a union – and would be sensible enough to leave this hellscape by his side, toward a future where they could both have exactly what they wanted.”

““But – he’s the king,” said Huda, breaking the silence and his reverie.“The Diviners are obligated to serve the rightful sovereign.” She looked around. “Aren’t they?”-“They do as they please.” Kamran felt a chill pierce the room, his instincts awakening in a blaze of scorn for that voice. That face. Softly, Omid screamed.King Cyrus stood in front of the closed door, his wretched, haggard, and bloodied appearance doing nothing to diminish the blue blaze of his eyes. How he’d reanimated so quickly, Kamran couldn’t imagine; though he supposed it had something to do with the devil. Black magic likely ran through the beast’s veins. Perhaps he couldn’t be killed so long as he was allied with Iblees. Perhaps that was the bargain he’d made.-“Whatever you’re thinking,” said Cyrus quietly, “you’re wrong. Now leave my home before I rip you apart with my bare hands.” “

““They’ve come for the wedding,” she was saying. “You must invite them to stay at least through the Wintrose Festival.”-“You celebrate Wintrose here, as well?” Deen perked up. “When I was a boy it was always my favorite time of the year.”-“They will not be staying,” Cyrus said thunderously. “There will be no festival –”-“When my parents were alive, we’d sleep outside in the rose drifts,”-Omid added dreamily. “The petals piled three feet high. Smelled like heaven.”-“Oh, yes!” cried Huda. “My sisters and I would often travel to the rose fields in the third week of the festival – when the blooms are most fragrant– we’d pack a basket and steal away from Mother, and they’d actually be nice to me –”-“What is wrong with you people?” Cyrus said angrily. His chest was heaving. His hands were shaking. “Get. Out.”-“Forgive me,” came a solemn voice. “But I will be leaving these premises under two conditions only: with my queen or with your head, and not a moment sooner.” “

“This, of course, was Hazan. The one Alizeh had called her friend.”

““More to the point: how are you awake so soon?” Hazan pressed on.“You were practically dead when I delivered you inside, and that was just over an hour ago.”-“And we were promised breakfast,” added the child.-“Yes.” Cyrus swallowed, hating the reminder that he’d been carried inside by one of these imbeciles. “I heard I owe you my gratitude.”-Hazan stared at him. Cyrus stared back. The Jinn crossed his arms. “Are you not going to thank me, then?”-“No.” Hazan did not laugh, though a shadow of a smile crossed his lips. Softly, Cyrus said, “Now get out of my sight.”-“Not without my queen.”-“She is not beholden to you,” Cyrus replied. “And you are not welcome here.”-“You vile creature.” The prince stood slowly from the table. “You would hold her here against her will?”-A flicker of amusement briefly animated Cyrus’s eyes, and he turned, with pleasure, to face the idiot. “She is not here against her will. She has chosen to stay.”-“That’s a lie!” Kamran cried.-“Believe what you like,” said Cyrus.”

““Are you such a coward,” interrupted the prince, “that you would leave my death to another? Are you so afraid to fight me yourself?” Miss Huda gasped. Sarra’s eyes widened.-Cyrus knew better. He knew better and still he rose to this weak bait, angrily shoving away from the wall as a burst of adrenaline blurred his better reasoning skills.-“No, you’re right,” said Cyrus, reaching for the scabbard still slung at his waist. “Best if I kill you now, isn’t it? Best to do what I should’ve done the other night, and spare this world the heft of your useless, pathetic weight.”Another flare of remembered sound, of sensation – Alizeh laughing, smiling at him – and Cyrus flinched, looking up in time to see Kamran bolt out of his chair. Hazan threw out an arm to hold back the prince, catching him around the chest with painful force – but Kamran shook him off, breathing hard. He was staring furiously at Cyrus.-“What motivation do you claim for such blatant malice? You act as if we’ve ever been acquainted, as if you have any reason to harbor such hatred toward me, when it was you who murdered my grandfather –”-“I have my reasons,” Cyrus exploded.-Kamran tried again to lunge at him and, once more, Hazan grappled with the prince, wrenching him back. “You have no reason,” Kamran practically roared. “You’re just a demented scion of the devil –”-“I don’t need a reason to detest you,” Cyrus said, making an effort to rein in his anger. “Nor do I need a reason to kill you, for it’s provocation enough that you exist. Still, I need only to recall the events of this morning to fan the flames of my contempt –”-“You would deny me the right to revenge? After all that you’ve –”-“I speak of your actions toward Alizeh!” Cyrus cried. “I refer to your unmitigated arrogance! You expect to be king of the largest empire on earth, responsible for the countless needs and protections of innumerable citizens, and yet over and over you exercise that imperious, self-satisfied speck of a brain only in the service of yourself, putting the lives of your dependents – innocents – at risk, in order to slake the thirst of your revenge, meanwhile you needed only to ask if I would face you in a duel, for I would have readily accepted –”-“And who are you,” Kamran thundered, “murderous, barbaric king that you are, to educate me on caring for the lives of innocents?”-Cyrus stilled, the familiar burn of fury scorching him from within.“King Zaal was no innocent.” (……….) “You admired your grandfather a great deal,” he said finally, softly, “despite the horrors owned by his soul. If you would receive guidance from such a man, surely you might listen to a word of advice from me.” Cyrus looked him in the eye. “Your thickheaded, self-righteous behavior has no place on the throne. If you do not learn to set yourself aside in the service of others, you will never deserve your crown.” Kamran recoiled at that, the anger in his eyes dissolving into something like alarm. He glanced at Hazan before saying urgently:-“Why did you say that?”-Cyrus frowned. “I thought I made my reasons clear.”-“Who told you to say that?” insisted the prince. “What do you know of my crown –”-“Kamran.” Hazan shook his head sharply. The southern king looked between the two – from the prince’s wild eyes to the unspoken warning in Hazan’s – and did not understand. Kamran appeared deeply unsettled, genuine confusion unmasked in his expression when he finally turned to Cyrus and said:-“Why didn’t you kill me? The night of the ball – you had every opportunity to be rid of me. Why leave yourself open to the consequences of your actions, to the retribution you must’ve known to anticipate?” In response Cyrus only turned away.”

“In fact, what intelligence he’d gathered of Kamran had been generally favorable; by all accounts he was a decent royal and a formidable soldier, and when Cyrus had first encountered the young man at the ball he’d felt no ill will toward him. It wasn’t until he realized Kamran had won Alizeh’s affections – that they’d known each other with some intimacy, that she’d cared for him enough to protect him –

Only then had he grown to hate the prince. Somehow it didn’t matter that Alizeh had been but a conjuring of his imagination. It didn’t matter that they’d never known each other outside of the delusions of his mind. It didn’t matter that she owed him nothing. He’d loved her. It was a hallucination, a fantasy. He knew that, and yet he could not reason with his emotions. Fiction or not, she’d embedded inside him, replaced the air in his lungs. That she’d proven to be real – more exquisite than he’d dreamed – and entirely ignorant of him, had been more than he could bear. To then discover that she’d given her heart to another – that he’d known her in ways Cyrus never would – had been nearly unsurvivable. And yet, it was the only reason he hadn’t killed Kamran that night. Because he suspected she cared for him.”

““Insult me again,” he said, his voice dropping to a sinister whisper, “and I will not be merciful.”-Kamran’s eyes flashed with fury, and Cyrus almost respected him for standing his ground. The prince was reaching for his own weapon when Hazan shoved him, hard, against the wall. “Enough,” he shouted. “I’ve had enough of you two idiots!” Then, turning, he focused his wrath on Cyrus: “I don’t understand why you dragged Alizeh here, nor do I understand your apparent need to marry her, but I do know that you went to great lengths to orchestrate this mess. The fact that you’ve allowed her a choice in the matter of wedlock tells me that you care, at the very least, whether she’s forced to take her vows, so let me make something very clear, you blundering fool: if Alizeh finds out you’ve murdered her friends you may be certain she’ll refuse to marry you.” “

““How easily managed you are,” Kamran said acidly. “How desperate you must be.”-Slowly, Cyrus lifted his head. “You have no idea.”-This admission seemed to surprise the prince, whose glower slowly faded. “Why?”-“Why, what?”-“Why must you marry her?”-“An insightful question,” Cyrus mused. “I hadn’t realized you were capable of intelligent thought.”-The glower returned. The prince opened his mouth, no doubt to make a scathing remark, when Cyrus’s mother spoke instead.-“Shall I tell them?” she said to him, her smile saccharine. “Or would you like to explain it all yourself?” Cyrus closed his eyes and scowled. “He claims he’s being forced to marry her,” his mother announced, addressing the room. “He says that Iblees has demanded this of him.”-He heard the boy gasp, then opened his eyes to see that the girl had covered her mouth with both hands while the apothecarist slid back in his seat in astonishment. Kamran’s horror was so complete he looked positively ill, and the sight of this discomfort was so enjoyable Cyrus nearly missed the fury on Hazan’s face.-“How can this be true?” Hazan demanded.”

““So this is what you meant,” the prince said slowly, the tension in his eyes cleared by understanding. “The night of the ball. I heard you tell her that Iblees wants her to rule. You said, ‘A Jinn queen to rule the world. The perfect revenge.’”-“You didn’t tell me this.” Hazan turned to Kamran, alarmed. “Why would you not tell me this?”-“I forgot.” Kamran shook his head, as if in a daze. “In all the chaos of that night – So much happened, I could hardly keep it all straight –”-“So she has to marry you?” The child now. “She has to marry you because the devil wants her to marry you? But why does she have to do what the devil wants? I don’t understand.”-“Me neither,” said Huda and Deen at the same time.-“She doesn’t have to do what the devil wants,” Cyrus said irritably. “I do.”-“Why?” said the boy.-“Because I owe the devil a debt.”-“So you have, in fact, made a deal with the devil,” Hazan said quietly, eyeing the king with renewed suspicion. “And this is what he wants in exchange?”-“In part.”-“And what does he stand to gain from her rule? She would never act in his interests, or acquiesce to his demands.”-Cyrus’s expression darkened. “I don’t know. Iblees, as you can imagine, has not confided in me the full extent of his hopes and dreams.”

““But you,” Cyrus said, turning to Hazan. “What reason did you have for helping me?”-“You mean why did I save your life?”-“You hardly saved my life,” Cyrus snapped. “I would’ve sorted things

out eventually.”-Hazan’s eyes were flinty. “You’re deluded.”-“And you haven’t answered my question.”-“Alizeh did not wish for you to die” was his cold response. At the reminder of Alizeh’s sacrifice for him, Cyrus experienced a painful cratering in his chest, and he grit his teeth against the feeling.-“Excellent,” he said to Hazan, the word hollow. “That is your only reason?”-“Yes.”-“And you wouldn’t mourn the loss of me were I to unceremoniously drop dead at your feet?”-Hazan sent him a scornful look. “Certainly not.”-“Then you all have reason to rejoice.” Cyrus took an unsteady breath before addressing the room. “Fear not a union between myself and your queen. The underlying reason she’s deigned to consider my proposal is that, as incentive for accepting, I’ve offered her my kingdom.”-“That is not news,” Kamran said irritably. “By taking the throne, she would naturally have influence in the empire –”-“I mean to say,” Cyrus bit out, “that I’ve offered her my kingdom without my involvement. She would be the sole ruler.”-“What?” Sarra nearly screamed.-“What?” echoed the prince, who couldn’t hide his shock.-“Oh my goodness,” breathed Huda, blinking fast. (…) “By the angels,” Hazan said softly, shock and awe burning in his eyes. “You’re willing to die for this.”-“Once my debt to the devil has been fulfilled,” Cyrus said flatly,-“Alizeh would be free to kill me at her leisure. My empire would become hers, to rule over as she wishes.”-“So this is why she wanted you to live,” said the Jinn, subdued. “This is why she tried to save you.”-“Cyrus,” his mother gasped, looking at him with something like real feeling. “What are you thinking? You would simply hand over our empire to this girl? Have you well and truly lost your mind?”-“I still don’t understand,” said Hazan, his brows furrowing. “What would motivate you to act so recklessly –” Cyrus turned away from this noise. He was most interested in the reaction of the prince, who regarded him now with steady silence.(…..)“Are you really so desperate?” Kamran was studying Cyrus, too, though he appeared unbothered by the cruel limitations of the blood oath. “You would hand over your birthright for a single night as her husband?”-“No,” said Cyrus. “Not a single night. She’d not be free to dispose of me until the devil releases me from my contract.”-“This is outrageous,” cried Hazan. “Kamran, you cannot consider it – It’s nothing more than a scheme, and he’d doubtless force her to consummate the marriage –”-“I would never,” Cyrus cut in viciously. “Think what you will of me in all other aspects, but even I am not so unworthy as that. She is entirely safe from me.”-“You would put that in the oath?” Hazan was livid. “That you’re not to lay a finger on her?”-(..)“Yes. I’ll make it clear I won’t touch her unless she wants me to.”-Hazan looked disgusted. “As if such a scenario could ever exist.”-“Miss,” whispered the boy. “What does consummate mean?”-“Oh,” said Huda, her color heightening. “You need not worry about that for now. I’ll explain later.”-“But –”-Meanwhile, Kamran was studying Cyrus, his eyes shrewd and calculating. “What bargain did you make with the devil?” Cyrus only glared at him.-“He refuses to say,” Sarra supplied. “I’ve asked him thousands of times, and he’s never admitted the truth.”-“I see.” Kamran did not look away from the southern king. “And how long would it take for you to be released from your contract?”-“I can’t be certain,” Cyrus answered. “A matter of months, perhaps.”-The prince took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he processed this last statement. “Interesting.”-“No.” Hazan was shaking his head. “Absolutely not. This is a dangerous, open-ended ploy –”-“I disagree,” said the prince with immaculate calm. “In fact, I think it will do nicely for revenge.” He met Cyrus’s eyes. “You will die, she will inherit your empire, and then – I shall marry her.” Hazan shrank back, so severe was his astonishment. The others, too, were making various sounds of bafflement, but Cyrus was somehow deaf to this, blind to all but the chaos flaring inside his body. The statement had struck him like a whip. Unmoored, it took every bit of Cyrus’s self-possession to keep from displaying his horror. He’d not considered such a manipulative tactic on the part of the prince, and he should have. “It will require significant patience on my part,” Kamran was saying, his eyes bright with triumph as he studied the king. “But then, I’m capable of extraordinary forbearance, especially for so great a reward.” A great reward, indeed. What a master stroke it would be – what victory – for the Ardunian to inherit the Tulanian empire. The northern and southern kingdoms had fought many historic wars over access to resources – and in particular, the Mashti River. Cyrus knew how desperate Ardunia had been for a direct line to fresh water, and this would resolve the empire’s greatest weakness in a single, peaceful move. No lives need be lost, no wars waged; Kamran would marry her and in the process marry the two nations, inheriting Tulan’s every valuable natural resource, including the riches of their densely magical mountains. It would make Ardunia, as an empire, nearly invincible.”

““What makes you so certain she’ll marry you?”-Cyrus looked up sharply, shocked to discover that, of all people, it was his mother who’d come to his defense. “Why would the girl choose to share a crown, when she could lead her own nation?” Sarra said, glaring at Kamran. “What need does she have of you?”-Kamran narrowed his eyes, preparing to respond, but it was Hazan who spoke, who appeared both distressed and confused. He shook his head lightly. “Need would not motivate her,” he said. “Duty might. For the sake of the prophecy, for the good of the people – Yes, I believe she could be convinced that a union with the Ardunian empire –”-“What prophecy?” said Huda, looking around. “There’s a prophecy?” “

““Where did you learn that?” Cyrus asked, struggling to suppress his panic.-Kamran only smiled. “She must already suspect her empire is to be woven with another – and we know it won’t be yours,” he said ruthlessly. “In fact, it’s become clear to me now, more than ever, that she and I were fated to be together. It’s been all but foretold.”-“Where did you learn that?” Cyrus repeated, this time losing his selfpossession. He felt he might choke on his own fury, so unraveled was his mind. That the devil had summoned him this morning to celebrate this loss, that it seemed obvious now it was all going to fall apart – He was too weak, too injured, too exhausted to endure it.-“It’s from the Book of Arya,” said Hazan, who was looking now at the king with some concern. “We found it among Alizeh’s possessions.”-“Fucking hell,” breathed Cyrus. He closed his eyes, his body sliding slowly down the wall. He finally sat, heavily, on the thick rug, and dragged his hands down his face. “You found the decoy.”-“Decoy?” Kamran demanded. “What decoy?”-“What you discovered was an imitation of the real thing,” said Cyrus, lifting his head. “It’s physically identical – on the outside, at least – to the original.”-“Where is the original?” Hazan asked urgently.-“I have it.”-“What? Why? How –”-“No,” said Cyrus vehemently, shaking his head. “I will bear no more of this. I began my morning by being shot nearly to death, so if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ve earned a reprieve from the many delights of your company.” He looked them over. Then, with a sigh: “If I can’t kill you, and you’re all refusing to leave –”-“We finally get breakfast?” Omid brightened.-(..)Cyrus’s head jerked upright, and at once, his adrenaline spiked. “What?”-“They’ve requested a meeting at once, sire.” Cyrus hauled himself up off the floor. He felt dazed; the Diviners had months ago refused to speak with him ever again. In fact, it had been so long since he’d communicated with one of his old teachers that his heart filled now with both joy and dread. The news must be dire indeed if they’d come to deliver it themselves. Cyrus was paralyzed, struggling to process this, when he looked up to find Hazan standing at his side.-“If this is about my queen,” said the Jinn, “I’m coming with you.” “

“Cyrus felt a strange sense of foreboding. “What do you mean?”-“You spent three hours in a state of distress – focused solely on one emotion – hoping to discard those hours from your life as if your

discomforts might expire with them. But life cannot be experienced one emotion at a time. It is a tapestry of sensation, a braided rope of feeling. We must allow for reflection even when we suffer. We must reach for compassion even when we triumph. If you spend your days waiting for your sorrows to end so that you might finally live” – he shook his head – “you will die an impatient man.” Cyrus only stared at him, his heart beating hard. Rostam flicked his fingers and the breeze withdrew, the shade evaporated. Once more, Cyrus felt the sun bear down on him, the heat so oppressive he began to perspire at once.”

“Strangest of all: Alizeh realized, with a shock, that she was not cold. A feeling of frost had lived in her limbs so absolutely that she existed always in physical distress. She was always tense; often rigid. To a lesser degree this pain had persisted in her veins since birth; in childhood she’d struggled with the cold, but she’d not experienced the full agony until her parents had died, after which the ice had claimed her utterly. It had taken a long time to learn how to live around this constant suffering, and Alizeh had never dared to hope she might one day live without it. But now – now she felt at rest inside her body for the first time since her parents were alive. The dull, welcome warmth in her veins was one she never thought she’d feel again.”

“Hazan. Her thoughts went first to him. She knew there was more to recall, more to unknot from her mind, but for now the image of Hazan would serve as her North Star. He’d come for her, she remembered that now. Which meant he must be here, somewhere, in Tulan – But then, where was she? Was she still in Tulan?”

“Eventually, Miss Huda pulled back, her face bright with emotion.“You’re awake!” she said. “You have no idea how worried we’ve been! And you mustn’t call me Miss anymore, just Huda will do, and anyway, we’re friends now, aren’t we?”-“Yes,” Alizeh said softly. “Yes, of course we’re friends.” “

““Perhaps later we can talk about all the discreet letters Prince Kamran has been writing” – she raised her eyebrows – “and all the mysterious trips King Cyrus has been taking –”-“You have been snooping.” Alizeh’s eyes widened. Huda gave a brilliant smile. “I’m not entirely useless, am I? I don’t care what Mother says about me. Anyway, to answer an important question: we are currently at the Diviners Quarters in Tulan. It turns out that the reason you were feeling so ill the morning of” – she made air quotes – “The Unpleasantness, was that you’d been poisoned by dark magic.” She bit at her fingernail. “Which, you know, is why it’s taken you so long to heal. Nearly four weeks you’ve been here at the temple –”-“Four weeks?” Alizeh cried. “I’ve been asleep for almost a month?”- (..) “Yes, disgusting! Grotesque, even! Though I don’t know if they actually bled you, to be honest? But it sounds awful, just awful – and anyway the thing is, dear, no one can figure out why you’d have such a poison in your body to begin with, and, well” – she cringed – “naturally they’ve all been fighting over it.”-“I see.” Alizeh’s heart was thudding painfully.Huda sighed, released her tortured fingers from her teeth, and stared at-Alizeh. “The boys have been awful. I quite hate them now. Not Deen and Omid, of course – but the others are always fighting and brooding and muttering and ridiculous. And to think, I nearly swooned the first time I saw Kamran!” She clasped her chest. “The way he’d parted the crowd the night of that horrific ball! I thought I’d die there in that fiery ring, and suddenly there he was – striding toward me like a hero, calling me a lady! Heaven help me, Alizeh, I thought I’d never seen anyone more magnificent in all my life.” Huda dropped her hand, then made a disgusted face. “Can you believe, growing up in the royal city, I always dreamed of meeting him?”-(…….) “Yes, the rat entrails were particularly unimaginative,” she said, pursing her lips. “Anyway, every time something terrible happened, I’d lock myself in my room and then lock myself in my closet and then lock myself in my head, where the stupidest of all my dreams lived, and I’d imagine that one day I’d meet the dashing prince and he’d be everything good and glorious and” – she hesitated, looking suddenly haunted – “well, I suppose I thought he’d be different. Kinder than everyone else.” She was quiet a moment, fighting a flare of emotion before returning her gaze to Alizeh. “Good thing that’s sorted, isn’t it?” she said with forced brightness. “Anyway, do you happen to have any recollection of being poisoned? It would solve a great deal of our problems, I think, if you could remember whether anyone had poisoned you.” Alizeh blinked steadily at the young woman, then sank down onto the bed beside her. She felt dazed; her mind was churning – roiling. Had she been poisoned? She didn’t know.”

““Yes,” she said, blinking. “Yes, I suppose it’s entirely possible.”-“In that case, I have to say – reluctant as I am to reward Kamran’s terrible moods – that Cyrus does seem the likeliest suspect for such a crime, no matter how many dramatic displays” – Huda gestured dismissively to the room – “he’s fashioned all around the city.”-Very slowly, Alizeh electrified. She felt the tremble of awareness in her fingers first, then in her chest and elsewhere, her body coming alive with a terrifying quaver of feeling. Her heart pounded dangerously as she looked around the room at the infinite blooms; the endless, devastating beauty. Her words were a breath when she said, “Cyrus did this?” “

““It’s mine,” he’d confirmed, his heart racing now. “But I don’t understand – there shouldn’t have remained any trace –”You have inflicted upon her a serious injury.-“I would sooner die than hurt her –” It matters not whether you meant her harm. Mozafer pulled his hood back entirely now, baring his shaved head. His brown eyes were unflinching but not cruel. The ice in her veins precludes her from absorbing such poison. While in others its effect is mild, in her it triggers an usual reaction. It appears her body would sooner destroy itself than metabolize a contaminated magic. Another blow of pain, straight through the chest. “What will happen to her?” We don’t know. We’ve never treated one such as her before.-“But will she live?” Cyrus asked desperately. Mozafer hesitated. Her body appears to have a natural healing mechanism, one that we feel will hasten her recovery. The exposure was minimal. She has a strong chance of rehabilitation. But it may take some time. “How much time?” Mozafer shook his head. Several weeks. Perhaps months. Cyrus had spiraled.”

“With her eyes shut, Dija placed her free hand atop her head as she cried out –

For the land that once was ours

For the millions who were slain

For the rivers red with blood

For the centuries of pain

Justice!

Justice!

For our parents in the ground

For the coffins that we built

For the tiny hands and quiet hearts

of the children who were killed

Justice!

Justice!

The mass followed her lead, hands placed atop their heads, eyes closed as they sang. Their voices had begun to haunt him throughout the day. Where once the heaving crush of the crowd had been a source of concern, now he felt nothing but astonishment. For her. It was all for her. And yet, she would not open her eyes.”

“He’d stopped fighting it. He willingly drowned in the feel of her, intoxicated by the taste of her. It was a torture he struggled to define. Every night he slept with his face pressed to her skin. Every night a new facet of his soul died for her. He felt ill, all the time. He was electric with impatience, with anxiety. Sometimes it felt as if he’d swallowed the sun, as if he was struggling to contain a fire that would kill him before it ever went out.”

““You knew,” said Hazan carefully.-“That you were following me?” Cyrus almost laughed. “Of course I knew.”-“Then why not say something sooner?”-Cyrus did not answer right away. He was raking his fingers through the vapor when he said, finally, “I suppose I was curious.”-Hazan loomed over him a moment more, then settled himself atop the roof a small distance away, studying the southern king all the while. “Curious about what?” he asked.-“You.”-The young man bristled. “Why?”-Cyrus reached into his pocket, then uncurled his fist, within which sat the nosta the Diviners had found hidden on Alizeh’s body. Weeks ago they’d delivered this magical object to Cyrus, and though the discovery had been a shock, it had also comforted him to know that so long as she’d possessed it, she might’ve known he was trustworthy.-He finally looked at Hazan. “She got this from you, didn’t she?”-Hazan held very still, though panic flit in and out of his eyes. “Where did you get that?”-“I might ask you the same question,” said Cyrus. “Considering this is mine.” “

““And then all of us, including me and Deen and Omid, flew to Tulan, even though Kamran did not want us to come with him, and he was adamant that he didn’t care whether any of us died in the process, because he mostly just wanted to kill Cyrus –” Except that he hadn’t killed Cyrus, and instead the two young men had come to some impossible truce, which resulted in an open invitation for

their group to remain at the palace. When Alizeh had asked to know the terms of this unlikely peace treaty, Huda’s color deepened very suddenly, and she refused to say more except to explain that the prince, in an unexpected pivot, was being praised by the people of Ardunia as a compassionate peacekeeper, for it was now passing as common knowledge that he’d traveled all this way – against the interests of Zahhak – in the hopes of preventing war. “And now,” Huda said eagerly, “all of us are being credited for forging friendship between the two empires!” -“Heavens,” Alizeh said softly.-“Incredible, isn’t it?” Huda was nodding. “Our kingdoms have never coexisted so peacefully. It’s been well over a decade since an Ardunian sovereign has even been invited to stay in Tulan. In fact,” she added in an undertone, “I’ve learned from the servants – who are oddly tight-lipped when it comes to gossip about their king, by the way – that Cyrus has never hosted a single guest at the palace during his rule, which is quite unheard of, and makes our stay all the more exceptional as a result.”-“And no one thinks it strange?” Alizeh asked. “That the Ardunian prince would choose to make nice with the person responsible for murdering the king of his empire?” “

““Yes, terribly unfair, but the riots were quelled once word spread that the prince had already fled Ardunia – immediately after Zaal’s death – to try to make amends with the southern empire. The general consensus is that he’s wonderfully selfless to have spared his people unnecessary bloodshed, even while grieving his grandfather.” She laughed, then shook her head. “Not at all the truth, of course, but my point is that if he had killed Cyrus, our empires would’ve certainly gone to war, and it would’ve been tragically unpopular. Kamran might’ve faced a veritable insurrection. “Of course” – she leaned in – “we’re the only ones who know the real reason it all worked out for him, and that’s entirely thanks to you, isn’t it?” She pulled back and smiled. “Cyrus really, really wanted to have us all executed, but Hazan pointed out that you’d be terribly cross with him if he murdered your friends, and he hasn’t mentioned it since. And now here we are! Making peace! Best of all, Zahhak looks dumb and Kamran looks grand and –”-“And you and Omid and Deen have been celebrated,” Alizeh finished for her, feeling dazed. It was a great deal to absorb.-“Yes!” cried Huda, who then quickly sobered. “Apart from being worried sick about you, of course, it’s been the most exciting time of my life. I’m getting letters from fans! Can you imagine! People love me.” She hesitated. “Well, it’s mostly children. Some old men, too, I think, though it’s sometimes hard to tell –”-“Huda?”-“Yes?”-“How does Hazan feel about all this?”-She stilled, her smile frozen. “I don’t know.”-“Surely you might venture a guess?”-Huda looked away then, biting the inside of her cheek before she said, “I think it might be best if you talked to Hazan about how Hazan feels.” She looked back. “He doesn’t share his feelings with me.”-Alizeh softened. “Is he all right, at least?”-“I suppose so? He’s been terribly grim. Not as bad as the others, but grim nonetheless.”-“I see.” Alizeh averted her eyes, taking a moment to study the shape of a particularly fine rose. She took a steadying breath before she said: “And Cyrus?”-“What about him?”-Alizeh struggled to meet Huda’s eyes. Her interest in the southern king was almost impossible to hide, though she made an effort to appear indifferent. “What’s he like?”-“What’s he like?” Huda echoed, surprised. “You mean aside from being obviously cracked in the head?” Alizeh suppressed a flinch. She couldn’t explain why, but every insult Huda leveled against Cyrus seemed to prick her with its sting. And yet, she had no good reason to defend him.”

““Though I overheard Kamran in a rage one day, telling Hazan how he’d witnessed Cyrus in some ungodly state the night prior – something about him being drenched in blood –” Alizeh inhaled sharply. “I know! Horrifying! Then again, when I saw Cyrus later that day he appeared perfectly normal, so I fear Kamran might’ve been exaggerating.” Huda exhaled, deflating as suddenly as she animated. “

““Anyway, Omid eats a lot, I spy a lot, Kamran skulks, Hazan broods, and Deen spends most of his days working with the palace alchemist. We all meet for meals, though mostly we don’t see Cyrus at all. I suppose he has lots of secretive things to do, being king, et cetera.” Finally, Huda’s small speech came to a close, and Alizeh turned to face her. A thousand more questions sat at the tip of her tongue, but she was prevented from asking, for Huda had pinned her with a curious look. “Are you really going to marry him?” she asked.-Alizeh froze. She felt oddly breathless at the thought, and said softly, “I might.”=Surprisingly, Huda did not condemn her for it. Instead, she canted her head and said, “I didn’t understand at first, of course. Though I suppose now I can see the draw.” Alizeh’s lips parted in astonishment. “You can?”-“Of course I can.” Huda laughed, then frowned. “I might marry him, too, if it meant I got to kill him shortly thereafter and take his empire.”-At once, Alizeh felt as if all the blood had rushed from her head. “How did you – How do you –”-“Oh, my dear, don’t look so afraid! No one is upset with you! That is, Kamran was understandably distressed at first – but just until Cyrus told us about Iblees forcing him to marry you.” She waved a hand. “Not to worry; he clarified the terms of your deal. He even told us he’d offered to make you a blood oath – which I think is a very good idea, by the way, no matter how brutal Hazan claims it to be.” She raised an eyebrow. “I certainly wouldn’t risk marrying such a man without a blood oath to secure my future.”-Alizeh blinked, stunned. “So everyone knows? And no one objects to me marrying Cyrus?”-“Well.” Huda bit her fingernail. “Perhaps you should speak with Hazan before you make your final decision. I fear he has a great deal to say to you on the subject.”-Again, Alizeh blinked. “I see.”-(…) Huda scoffed. “As if you could wear something decent and sensible to face such a crowd! You’re their queen, dear, and you have to look the part, especially as they’ve all been waiting so patiently –”-“What?”-Huda, who’d been unlatching the luggage, briefly froze. “Right,” she said, wincing. “Did I forget to mention that part?” “

““THAT’S NOT POSSIBLE,” SAID HAZAN, doing nothing now to conceal his apprehension. They were both staring at the nosta Cyrus held in his outstretched hand. “How could it belong to you? My mother left that to me in her will.”-A flare of heat from the nosta confirmed these words – though Cyrus did not require the assistance, for he was fairly able to detect a lie. “Who was your mother?”-Hazan’s jaw clenched. “I didn’t come here to be interrogated.”-“No,” Cyrus said, and looked him over. “You came here to interrogate me.”-“You can’t be shocked to hear it,” said Hazan, who was flushed with anger. “It’s beyond evident that I don’t trust you.”-Cyrus almost smiled. “And you’re hoping I’ll put your fears to rest?”-“I want to know the terms of your deal with the devil.”-“No.”-“I want to know what you stand to gain from this arrangement –”-“No.”-“– and I want to know whether she will be safe as your wife.” Cyrus stiffened at the words your wife. The sheer depth of feeling he experienced at the sound of the possessive your had briefly upended his mind. It was absurd, of course; for even if she consented to marry him, she would never truly be his. He knew that, and yet his heart would not slow its canter.-Slowly, he met Hazan’s eyes. “Always,” he said. “She will always be safe with me.”-The nosta flared red hot in his hand, and Hazan witnessed this color change with a mix of astonishment and alarm.-“My turn,” said Cyrus, turning the small marble in his fingers. “Did you know that this is a royal heirloom? It’s been passed down in my family for generations. That’s why the Diviners returned it to me. My father thought we’d lost it ages ago.”-Hazan’s eyes hardened. “As I said, I received it from my mother.”-“But you have some knowledge of its history.” To this, Hazan said nothing. “You are no ordinary Jinn, are you?”-“What’s that supposed to mean?”-“I mean it must be hard to lie, all the time, about who you really are.”-Hazan was quiet for so long that silence gathered between them like smoke, choking. It was with unveiled anger that he finally said, “You know nothing about me.”-The nosta flashed white, cold.-“Your mother was a courtier,” said Cyrus, turning his eyes to the clouds. “According to my sources, she spent a great deal of time in the Ardunian court and was a beloved attendant to the late queen. She did an admirable job concealing her identity as both a Jinn and a spy, and consequently received a number of precious gifts while in service. Some of which” – he tilted his head at Hazan – “had been stolen.” He paused.-“But who, pray tell, was your father?”-Hazan was fairly vibrating with rage. “I won’t answer your questions,” he said, “until you first answer mine.”-“You’re welcome to list them,” said Cyrus.-“First of all, who the hell are you?”-“You might need to be more precise.”-“You are yourself no ordinary man,” Hazan said heatedly. “No ordinary king. I’ve been watching you closely these past weeks, and nothing about you makes sense –”-“Nothing?” He raised his eyebrows. “Really?”-“You never wear jewelry.”-Cyrus glanced at Hazan when he said, “Is that a crime?”-“For a king? Are you mad?”- “I take it you have other complaints about how I dress.”-“You never wear color. You often wear a hat. You possess only simple, plain clothes. No gold, no adornment, no crown in your hair. In fact, most days you walk with your head down –”-“This conversation bores me.” Cyrus looked at his hands, then the tips of his boots, which had darkened with damp. “And I don’t know what more you want from me. I’ve already given up my secrets.”-“Liar.”-Cyrus lifted his head. “You would know what a liar looks like, wouldn’t you?”-“I’ve lived at the palace in Ardunia my whole life – I’ve worked in service of the crown since I was a child – and you – You don’t act like a king. You have no entourage, no valet, no menus prepared for your meals. You speak directly to your servants –”-“Enough,” Cyrus said curtly. “I don’t know what you hope to accomplish with these accusations.”-But Hazan had found his mark, and his eyes sharpened. “Your people are loyal to you despite the brutal manner in which you took the throne. Your staff refuses to speak a bad word against you. You give your mother far too much control over your household, you pay your servants ten times the standard wage –”-“I said enough –“-“You love her, don’t you?”-(..._)Hazan, to his credit, was dumbfounded. “It’s true, then?” he breathed. “You really do love her?” Cyrus said nothing. He didn’t need to. The severity of his feeling for her could not be contained, and they both watched, in horror, as the nosta turned red in his hand. Cyrus closed his fist, but too late. The silence between them grew thick and gnarled, but soon – somehow – lost its teeth. For the first time in weeks Hazan seemed to relax, as if this wretched confession had somehow offered him comfort. “Is it possible?” he said, his anger abating. “Can you love her when you don’t even know her?” Hazan turned to face him, looked him directly in the eye. “Do you know her?”

““I DIDN’T MEAN YOU HAD to speak with them,” said Huda, who was chasing Alizeh down the hall with discernible anxiety. “I only meant that they’ll see you as you leave the grounds, and I just thought you might like to look your best –”-“Nearly four weeks,” Alizeh cried. “Almost a month they’ve been waiting for me, Huda, how could I possibly walk past them without a word? I must speak with them. Anything less would be cruel –”-“I – I, forgive me, but I don’t know if this is such a good idea –” said Deen, who, along with Omid, was hastening to keep up. “I don’t think Kamran would approve –”-Alizeh stopped, causing Huda to topple into her. She apologized before righting her friend, then turned to face the apothecarist.-“Why wouldn’t Cyrus approve?” she asked. Alizeh should’ve been embarrassed that she was so eager for any opportunity to discuss Cyrus; even then she couldn’t understand her desire to hear someone say his name.-“I didn’t” – Deen blinked. “Forgive me, did I say Cyrus? I meant to say Kamran.”-“No, you’re right,” said Huda, even as she shot Alizeh a strange look. “You did say Kamran.”-“Oh.” Alizeh looked away, trying to hide her disappointment. She began walking again, the rustle of her skirts echoing in the stone hall. “I must’ve misheard you.”-“We’ve sent word to him, by the way,” said Deen, keeping up. “Last I heard he was preoccupied with some business, but he should be here shortly.”-“Who? The king?”-“No, Kamran,” said Huda, who sounded concerned. “Are you all right, dear?” “

““I don’t care how many people there are,” Omid shot back angrily. “I don’t want you to get hurt.” Alizeh stopped in place, she was so surprised. Slowly she turned to face the boy, discovering genuine fear in his eyes. Laughing off his pain, she knew, would only wound him. She, too, had lost both her parents at a tender age; she knew how terror and loneliness propagated alongside grief like invasive weeds. There had never been another warm embrace. Never another loving hand to stroke her hair. Never a day she didn’t struggle with the impermanence of joy. In a matter of months this poor boy had lost his parents, lived on the streets, saw his friends murdered for Zaal’s profit, and then lost the Diviners. He was afraid he’d lose her, too. Alizeh watched Omid swallow back a knot of emotion before she drew forward, opening her arms to him. He towered over her by at least a foot, but she knew he was just a child – a child like so many others in need of comfort. At first he paled at her offer, but then, looking as if he might cry, he stepped into her embrace, turning a shade of red so bright it clashed with his ginger curls. “I don’t want to mess up your dress,” he mumbled.-She only held him tighter. “Don’t you worry about me,” she said finally, giving him a squeeze before holding him at arm’s length. “I’ll be all right.” -He looked toward the floor, his face still blotchy with color. “I do worry, miss. I do

worry. You already almost died. And I know what it’s like in big crowds – me and the boys used to pull our best hauls at gigs like this. Thieves and rogues love to work a big crowd –”-“I hate to say it, but the child is right,” said Deen. “You mustn’t put yourself in danger. Besides, you’ve only just awoken – maybe you should take time to recuperate a bit more. I could brew you a medicinal tea to revive your spirits –”-“I appreciate your concern,” said Alizeh, looking around at her friends. “Really, I do. But I must speak with my people, even if it endangers me to do so.” “

““It’s worse than that,” said Omid angrily, retrieving a folded newspaper from inside his jacket, which he thrust toward Alizeh. “They want you to die.”-“Omid!” Huda gasped, trying to snatch the paper out of his hand. “You shouldn’t have brought that!” His jaw set in a determined clench, Omid easily evaded this effort and handed the paper to Alizeh, which she carefully accepted. She knew from its dusty-green pages that she’d been handed a copy of The Daftar, Ardunia’s most famous newspaper, though she didn’t know how they’d procured a copy so far from home. She looked once more upon

her friends’ faces – worried, worried, and angry – before turning her eyes to the publication, shaking it open to read the headline.”

“Certainly, she’d been naive. She’d not anticipated such anger from the rest of the world; she’d never imagined the ways in which Cyrus and Kamran could be embroiled in her fate; and she’d been willfully blind to the far-reaching dangers of her role. Still, Alizeh was less offended by threats against her life than she was by the insinuation that she’d abandoned her people. Nearly a month they’d been waiting for her. Families. Children. The infirm and elderly. She had no idea what difficulties they’d endured. She’d never meant to leave them for so long. She closed her eyes on a sigh, then looked about herself in carefully contained agitation, feeling shaky and unsettled, but there was nowhere to rest. Like all else she’d seen of the temple, the stone hall they stood in was worn and weathered, but the pitted walls were broken up by a series of narrow windows that looked out onto an interior courtyard, where brilliant light and signs of life bloomed toward them. Huda, who’d seemed to read Alizeh’s mind, made as if to usher her toward that courtyard when Omid stepped swiftly between them, blocking the door.-“No,” he said, his eyes bright with fury.-Huda placed her hands on her hips. “I know you’re scared, Omid, but now you’re being ridiculous –”-“I’m not being ridiculous,” he countered. “If she goes out there, she’s going to hear them, and then she’ll never –” “

““So you’re going to let her get killed?” Omid all but shouted.-“Omid –”-Deen shook his head again, this time more vigorously. “If Hazan finds out we’ve let her stand, unprotected, in front of a hundred thousand people, he’ll murder us on principle–”-“It’s fewer than a hundred thousand –”-“Please, I’m not as fragile as you seem to think,” Alizeh objected. “I’ve always been able to protect myself –”-“No one thinks you’re fragile, miss,” said Omid, his voice grave. Heavens, she’d never seen him so serious. “Just because we want to protect you doesn’t mean you’re weak – it means you’re important –” “

““I’m coming, too,” said Huda, squaring her shoulders.-“And I,” said Deen, looking grim as he stepped forward.-“But” – Alizeh looked around at them – “you’ve just spent the last several minutes warning me away from the crowd –”-It was Huda who said, “Yet you are unafraid.”-“Of course I am afraid!” Alizeh said, laughing even as her eyes teared. “But don’t you see? If I let fear keep me from doing what is right, I will always be wrong.”-“Spoken like a true queen,” said Huda.-It was Deen who said, quietly, “Let us hope for the day when we might all remove our masks, and live in the light without fear.” Alizeh stiffened, turning to face him. Deen had recited aloud something she’d once said to him. She hardly knew what to say.-“Those words are emblazoned upon my cold, shriveled heart,” he said, smiling faintly. “I’d quite like to live in a world where you are queen.”-“Thank you,” she said. “I’m so grateful for your friendship.”-“And I, yours.” His smile deepened. “I must say – I always suspected you were no ordinary snoda. But I never expected this.”-“Ha!” said Huda. “Neither did I.”-(...)Alizeh looked at her friends, a tight joy unfurling inside her. She was reminded then of something her parents used to say to each other – when they dropped things; when they lost an argument; when they bumped into each other in the kitchen; when they made silly mistakes. They’d laugh, lock eyes –“Shuk pazir ke manam, manam,” said Alizeh. Thank you for receiving me as I am.-Omid’s eyes widened, then he laughed out loud. “I haven’t heard that since before my parents died.”-“Ooh, I know this one!” said Huda. “Shuk nosti ke tanam, tanam.” Thank you for trusting me with who you are. It was another well-loved call and response. Alizeh studied her friends’ faces a final time. Gently, she said, “I will go on alone. You will all stay here. And there will be no arguments.” “

“In the end, it was Omid who broke the tension.-“By the angels,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know you were a Diviner.”-“Neither did I,” said Deen, his voice breathless.-“Were you meant to keep it a secret?” asked Huda, who looked almost afraid of her now. “Were we not meant to know?”-Alizeh fell back a step, she was so astonished. “No – that is – you misunderstand. I’m not a Diviner,” she said emphatically. “I’ve never even touched magic. They were only being polite –”-Omid was shaking his head. “When I lived with the Diviners, miss, they didn’t bow their heads at anyone except each other.”-“That can’t be true –”-“It is true,” said Deen, watching her closely. “Diviners don’t show that kind of deference to anyone outside the priesthood. They don’t even bow their heads before the king.” “

“The mass seemed to stretch on endlessly. There were more sharp screams, fingers pointing in her direction, but it was a moment before the crowd truly saw her, before their cries quieted to a silence so complete it was frightening. They turned to her as one, the breathless focus aimed in her direction driving home, for the first time, the magnitude of her responsibility. Alizeh had never seen Jinn gathered like this, never known with certainty whether anyone would even accept her as a leader. She took a steadying breath, trying to find her voice, and as she drew closer to the balustrade, the silence broke. People began shouting –

“My queen!”

“Is it really her?”

“Your Majesty!”

“She’s here!”

Only then, as she parted her lips to speak, did she realize the enormity of her error. She was not yet a crowned queen. She had no throne, no kingdom, no authority, no real magic. Even her clothes were borrowed. The last time she’d stood before her people she’d had good reason to delay answering their questions. But now –

“When will you take the throne, Your Majesty?”

“Will you marry King Cyrus?”

“Will we go to war?”

“We will go to war!”

Another roar from the people, their fists rising in the air. Her heart pounding madly in her chest, Alizeh’s mind was a swarm of tangled thought. She wanted to answer them, wanted to –She saw the dagger before she fully understood what it was, the gleam of silver in the distance appearing like a glimmering bird before it focused into a blade, aimed directly at her throat. Alizeh froze. Perhaps if her head hadn’t been so splintered – if her heart hadn’t been afflicted with myriad pains – if she hadn’t been so recently astonished by her own shortcomings as a leader – Perhaps if she’d been in better possession of herself, she might’ve gathered her wits about her, harnessed her supernatural strengths, and simply moved out of the way. Instead, she fell back on old instincts, doing what came naturally to her when attacked: She fought back.”

“Suddenly, she was knocked to the ground. Alizeh hit the stone floor with a muted cry, the weight of another body landing heavily against her. She heard the uproar of the masses, the chaos exploding. She tried to get up and was immediately pushed down again, though out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed the profile of Hazan’s familiar, freckled face, and then, just above her head, buried in the wall

behind her: two daggers. The second one had missed her by inches. “Hazan?” she gasped. In response he rendered them both invisible, hauled her up into his arms, and moved her with lightning speed back into the walled courtyard, where he set her down at once. Even then he was careful not to disturb her dress as he steadied her, though her veil and its accompanying crown were falling off her head, and she caught them both before they hit the ground. “Hazan –”-“Forgive me, Your Majesty.” He cut her off, his fists clenching as he avoided her eyes. “I’m too angry right now to speak to you in the manner you deserve.”-Alizeh felt a wash of mortification. She never thought Hazan could be so cross with her. “You idiots!” he bellowed without warning, spinning away from her. “I can’t believe you let her go out there!”-Alizeh turned to see her trio of friends rush into view.-“She insisted!” said Deen, striding forward. “We couldn’t physically stop her –”-“I tried to tell her!” Omid yelled, his face mottled with color. “I tried to go with her! I told her it was a bad idea – I even wanted her to read the paper – but no one listens to me –”-“Are you all right, dear?” Huda hurried toward her and grabbed her arm, guiding her to a bench. Then, to Hazan, “Is there any chance we can see the weapons?” And, “Omid, can you ask the Diviners for a glass of sugar water?” Hazan glanced at Huda, then left to retrieve the blades; and though Omid clenched his jaw in response, he nodded before walking away.”

“Heavens. For as long as she could remember, someone had been trying to kill her. She was, quite frankly, tired of it.-Hazan returned a moment later, holding up the murderous daggers for all to see. They were identical, though they looked simple enough: steel blades, gold shafts. “They’re an enchanted pair,” he said. “They’ve been vibrating since the moment I yanked them out of the wall.”-“Vibrating?” Huda asked.-“Trying to finish the job.” He kept a tight grip on the hilts even as he strode to the door.-“I need to hand these off to the Diviners immediately.”-“Trying to finish the job,” Alizeh repeated softly, almost to herself. She flinched when the door slammed shut behind him, and looked up to find that Deen was watching her closely.-“I think you need something stronger than sugar water,” he said. “I’ll go fix you a strong tea, miss. I mean, Your Majesty –”-“Please, call me Alizeh,” she said, tensing to keep her teeth from rattling. “And tea sounds wonderful. Thank you.”-Then, with another nod, Deen was gone, too.-Huda sat beside her, took her hand, and squeezed it. “How are you feeling?”-“Foolish.” Alizeh suppressed a sigh as she removed her circlet, then her veil, setting them both on the bench beside her. She dropped her head in her unsteady hands. “Hazan is mad at me. Hazan is never mad at me.” “

““Who’s Dija?”-“She’s sort of a leader of the masses. She and a few others help keep the crowd in order. Cyrus has spoken with her several times, as far as I’m aware.”-At the sound of his name, Alizeh averted her eyes. “I’ve made a decision, Huda. I know it might not be a popular decision, but –”-The door whined opened then, and Huda, who’d opened her mouth to speak, suddenly shot upright. Hazan had returned.-“Yes, I’ll, um, speaking of Dija, I’ll just pop down to see her, shall I? Best to get a feel for what’s happening outside.”-“You’re going into the crowd?” Alizeh said, alarmed. “But – isn’t it dangerous?”-“Oh, not for me! No one cares who I am!” she said, and rushed off.-The door slammed shut for the fourth time, and once again, Alizeh flinched. She and Hazan were alone.”

““Hazan,” she said softly.-“Yes, Your Majesty.”-“Do you think you’ll be mad at me for a very long time?”-She heard him sigh.-“I’m not mad at you,” he said, his voice hard. “I’m mad that someone tried to kill you. I simply don’t understand why you’d put yourself in so dangerous a position –”-“Please,” she said desperately. “Please understand, I had to speak with them. Not only because it was my duty to try, but because I needed to learn that I never, ever, want to be in that position again.”-Hazan turned to face her. “What do you mean?”-“The next time I stand before my people,” she said, “it will be with a crown and a plan. I can have nothing to say to them until I secure both. I need to find my magic, Hazan – I need to go to Arya at once –”“We’ll go,” he said, moving briskly toward her. “We’ll return to Ardunia tomorrow, if you like. Say the word and we’ll go.”-“I wish it were that easy,” she said, attempting a smile. “It’s going to be a long, difficult journey –”-“Not if we travel by dragon.”-“– and I need to get my book back from Cyrus. He’s refused to give it to me.”-Hazan shook his head. “I’ll kill him.” Alizeh laughed, her heart warming with affection. “You can’t kill him. I need him.”-Hazan stood before her, tall and looming. “All due respect, Your Majesty, you don’t need him. You have me.” -She looked up into his eyes and smiled. “If only you had an empire.”-Hazan sighed heavily, then turned away. “If only.”-She reached for his hand, meaning to clasp it in friendship, and he recoiled. She realized then that he’d recoiled before when she’d touched him, and withdrew her hands immediately. “Forgive me,” she said, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”-“I’m not uncomfortable,” he said, though his voice was rough. “It’s only that I’m not used to being touched.”-She looked up, but he would not meet her eyes. “Hazan,” she said softly. “Will you look at me?”-She watched him swallow, watched him hesitate before dropping slowly to one knee before her. He lifted his head and their eyes locked. He seemed to drink in the sight of her, fear and affection at war in his gaze.-“Hazan,” she said again. “I’m worried you’re not sleeping well.” This disarmed him so completely he almost laughed, the intensity in his eyes melting into something gentler. His chest caved as he exhaled, and he lowered his head once more.-“I will try to do better, Your Majesty.”-“Thank you,” she said softly. “For saving my life.” (…) “I feel you should know,” she said, her voice quieting to a whisper. “That I’ve made my decision.” He looked up sharply.-“I’m going to say yes. To his proposal.” Alizeh clasped her hands in her lap. “I’m going to marry Cyrus.”-Hazan seemed to stop breathing.-“I know you were against the idea – and I know he’s not trustworthy – but I hope you can understand why, especially after today –”-The door slammed open without warning, and they both spun toward the sound. Alizeh fought back a gasp. Kamran had arrived.”

“ALIZEH WENT RIGID, SURPRISED BY the intensity of her reaction to him. Kamran was as handsome as ever, the vein of gold branching up his face giving him a magical, mysterious air. He’d always been striking, but her memories had done him an injustice. His bearing impressive, his eyes gleaming – Kamran radiated the kind of glory that could only be born from a lifetime of power and privilege. The young man who stood before her now was truly a wonder to look upon, and yet, the idea of speaking with him filled her with dread. The last time she’d seen the prince he’d been enraged and unreasonable. He’d refused to listen to her, refused to be rational, and then he’d shot her with an arrow, nearly killing her in the process. Kamran kept his eyes on Alizeh as he moved slowly forward, as if afraid to spook her. Still, there was something gentler in his countenance today, the fire in his eyes dampened, and she felt herself unclench as he approached, even as she remained wary. “Forgive me,” he said, glancing between her and Hazan. “I hardly know what to say. I heard the good news, then the bad. I’m so relieved to see that you’re unharmed.” “ (..) An array of answers flowered in her mind, but Alizeh only appraised him before saying, politely: “I’m fine, thank you. How are you?”-“I’m – Yes. Fine.” Kamran hesitated, then laughed with a charming self-consciousness. “Heavens, this is awful, isn’t it?”-“Yes,” she said, and sighed.-Kamran shook his head, lost his smile. “Will you ever be able to forgive me?”-She looked up at him, surprised. “I’ve already forgiven you.”-“You have?” His brows lifted. “Yet you don’t seem at all pleased to see me.” Alizeh looked away. She knew his actions that awful morning had been unintentional – knew he hadn’t meant her any harm – but Kamran’s conduct had been indicative of a man unable to think beyond his own desires. She’d tried to reason with him, had begged him to imagine the situation more complexly, to see how killing Cyrus would have far-reaching consequences – and he’d shaken her off without care or consideration. This had bothered her almost more than the injury itself.”

““I’m not displeased to see you,” she said, and meant it. “In fact, I’m truly happy to see that you’re well. I know how much you’ve suffered these last several weeks, and I can imagine it hasn’t been easy for you.” She hesitated. “It’s only that… I suspect our book has closed, Kamran.”-He seemed stunned by this response, his chest lifting slightly as he breathed. “I see,” he said. Alizeh looked into her lap, then glanced at Hazan, whose expression was inscrutable. She realized then that she had no desire to continue this conversation, for not only was it intolerably awkward, but there were a thousand things she’d yet to accomplish.”

“She drew back her hand, shaking out her skirts before collecting her crown and veil. “Hazan, how might I return to the palace?”-He stepped forward at once. “I’ll call for the carriage, Your Majesty. It shouldn’t be but a moment.” He moved briskly toward the door, but then, glancing at Kamran, he paused. “Unless you’d wish to accompany me?”-“Yes,” she said, brightening. “I’d like that.”-“Please, Alizeh,” Kamran said quickly, drawing forward. “Might I have a moment alone with you?” Alizeh hesitated. She was just opening her mouth to speak when Huda’s head poked through the open doorway.-“Oh! Are we allowed to come back in –” Her words died when she spotted Kamran, her smile turning brittle. “Ah. I see the prince has arrived.”-Kamran stiffened at the sound of her voice, his mood darkening as if he’d been doused with cold water. He turned to her slowly, his eyes flaring with hostility. Alizeh marveled at this brief, heated exchange, wondering what, precisely, had happened between them in her absence. Huda had failed to be specific.-“The prince is here?” Omid’s voice preceded his body as he reentered the courtyard, his eyes gleaming when he spotted Kamran. “Sire! You’re back! Did you have any trouble with the –”-“What have I said to you,” Kamran said sharply, “about closing your mouth?” “

“He bowed his head slightly. “As you wish. Just be sure to tell me how you like it in the morning.”-“Yes, of course, I –” She startled, then, at the press of a hand against her waist. She turned. It was

Kamran.-“Would you allow me to accompany you back to the palace?” he said, looking at her with an intense focus. His eyes – one gold, one brown – were a disorienting kind of beauty. “We could share a carriage.” Alizeh hesitated. She didn’t want to be locked into another uncomfortable conversation, but she did want to tell him about her decision to marry, and, given his general feelings about Cyrus, she didn’t know how he’d receive the news. Ultimately, Kamran’s opinion on the matter would not move her, but Alizeh was not cold to the fact that Cyrus had murdered his grandfather. She felt she should be the one to deliver him the news; she felt she owed him this much. All this she considered in a matter of seconds, and was preparing to answer when Huda made a choking sound, something like a terrible laugh.-Kamran turned to face her, scathing as he said, “Was my question funny to you?”-She shook her head in an exaggerated motion, eyes widening in fake innocence. “Not at all, Your Highness. Nothing about you is funny. You’re a very serious prince. Everything you say is of the utmost seriousness.”-“That’s interesting.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “I didn’t realize you even knew what the word serious meant.”-She gasped, then fell dramatically against the wall. “Oh, your words have wounded me! I’m bleeding!”-In a shockingly unrefined action, Kamran rolled his eyes, turning away from her as he muttered, “You’re insufferable.”-She drew away from the wall, then crossed her arms. “You’re insufferable.”-“Miss, you really shouldn’t talk to him like that,” Omid whispered, tugging at her arm. “He’s going to be king of the largest empire on earth –”-“Yes,” she said, sounding bored. “I think we’ve all been reminded of that fact a million times.”-Kamran spun around angrily. “What is that supposed to mean?”-“What’s that? I can’t hear you,” she said, and cupped a hand to her ear. “Maybe if you got off your high horse I might be able to –”-He strode in Huda’s direction with lightning speed, looking as if he might tie her to a tree and leave her there. “You brazen, unmanageable delinquent –”-“Delinquent?” she cried. She quickly backed away from him, her face bright with color. “What crimes have I committed? None! You, on the other hand, nearly killed the prophesied Jinn queen of the entire world and then expect her to go on a carriage ride with you –”-He stopped in place. “I apologized!”-“My condolences!” she shot back. “That must’ve been hard for you!”-“Heavens,” said Alizeh, who could no longer contain her laughter. “When did this tender relationship begin?”-(..)“It’s been this way since before we left Ardunia,” Hazan offered, his eyes glinting with humor. “Though in the last few weeks it’s grown a great deal worse.”-Huda opened her mouth to protest and Kamran shot her a withering look. She glared back.-“Yes, all right,” Alizeh said to Kamran, still smiling. “Let’s ride back together. Perhaps you can tell me more about all that’s happened in my absence.” “

““It’s so beautiful here,” she whispered, forcing herself to draw away from the window. She pulled the curtain closed, deciding to break the silence herself. “It even smells lovely.” Kamran only stared at her from where he sat, on the opposite bench inside the carriage. She’d felt his eyes on her these last many minutes, the energy between them strange and fraught; despite his insistence that they have a moment alone together, he’d said nothing at all. Even then, as she studied him, he did not speak; it was as if he hadn’t even heard her. Still, he made no effort to hide his overt interest. He also seemed unaware that he was tapping his gloves against his thigh, and the buzz of tension in his body put her on alert. It had been a small production delivering her into the simple, unmarked coach, but the conveyance was meant to be reinforced with layers of defensive magic, including an enchantment that repelled glances from passersby. Both Kamran and Hazan had assured her they’d been traveling back and forth this way for weeks, with palace guards in plain clothes riding alongside at all times. But perhaps the situation was more precarious than she realized. “What is it?” she said, sitting back in her seat. “Is something wrong?”-“Yes,” he said quickly, then hesitated. “I mean, no – nothing is wrong. I don’t know why I said that.”-She stared at him a beat. “Are you all right?”-“Forgive me,” he said, and sighed. He finally set down the gloves and stared blankly at a curtained window. “I’ve never done this before, and I’m afraid I’m going to botch it.”-“Botch what?”-He took a shallow breath and said, “I want to marry you.” The words came out in a nervous rush that was so unlike the assured, polished prince she’d known that Alizeh’s astonishment was doubled. In fact she was so stunned that she said nothing at all for several long, excruciating seconds before she realized she should absolutely say something, and quickly.-“Are you” – she blinked – “are you joking?”-He recoiled. “Absolutely not.”-“Forgive me,” she said. “I’m just – I’m afraid I don’t understand.”-He parted his lips to speak, then frowned. “Can you really not understand?” he said. “I wish to marry you. I want to marry you.”-“But – why?” -He froze, his frown deepening. He turned this frown upon the curtained window again as he said, quietly, “I didn’t think I’d need to provide a reason, if I’m being honest.”(..)“You’re – Well, you’re everything I’ve ever looked for in a queen,” he said, relaxing a little as the words came to him. “You’re beautiful and intelligent and poised and elegant –”-“Do you love me?”-He lifted his head, then faltered as he said, “I – I admire you deeply – and I’m certain that, in time, we would come to love each other. The truth is, I’ve thought of you almost constantly since we first met. I’ve never felt for anyone what I’ve felt for you, and I’d be honored to spend my life by your side.” He paused, his gaze briefly dropping to her lips.“We’ve already proven we’re well-suited in many ways. I believe it would be an excellent match.”-“I see,” she said, the chill in her bones overwhelmed by the tide of heat moving through her body. “Thank you.”-He hesitated. “Thank you?”-“For the explanation,” she said, distracted. “It helps.”-“Ah.” There was another taut silence before he said, “Might you have an answer for me?”-She clasped and unclasped her hands, a feeling of misplaced guilt twisting her heart. “Yes, I’m –”=The carriage jolted.-“Yes?”-“– deeply, deeply flattered,” she said, holding on to the seat to steady herself. “But no, I –That is, I think –”-“Hells,” he said quietly. “You’re refusing me.”-She lifted her head at the hurt in his voice. “It’s not you, Kamran. Truly, it isn’t. Honored-as I am by your offer, I cannot be your wife. I must put my people first. I have a responsibility – a role I must fulfill –”-“You would be much more than a prize to me,” he said, leaning forward to take her hands.-“You would rule by my side. You could care for your people with the might of Ardunia behind you –”-“But I don’t wish to share a crown. I want my own kingdom,” she said, hating the words she knew she would deliver next. She steeled herself, then took a sharp breath. “I’ve decided to marry Cyrus.”-He astonished her by saying, with an air of confusion, “Yes, I imagined you would. I meant I’d like to marry you after that.”-She withdrew her hands from his grasp, sitting back with a shock. “After that?”-“Yes. After you kill him.”-“After… I kill him,” she repeated, the words little more than a whisper. She stared blindly at the carriage floor, the glimmer of her long skirts winking in the dim light. “Of course. You know about his offer.”-“It’s a good offer,” he said. “You should take it.”-She lifted her head so fast she nearly sprained her neck. “You think I should marry Cyrus?”-“Absolutely you should.” Gone was the uncertainty in Kamran’s eyes, replaced by a hawklike gleam. “Make him perform a blood oath, become queen, take his kingdom, kill him when it’s done, and reign supreme.”-She stared at him in astonishment. “You say it like it would be easy for me to be so ruthless.”-“You have a difficult climb ahead of you,” he said with some nonchalance, his composure returning as his mind shifted into politics. “I’m afraid you must learn to be ruthless. Tulan is one of the richest empires in the world; any sovereign on earth would’ve died for such an opportunity. You’d be mad not to take it.”-Alizeh tilted her head at him, fascinated despite herself. She’d never interacted with this methodical, intellectual side of Kamran, and she realized only then that he might be an excellent resource, for she knew little about geopolitics. She might learn a great deal from him. “Why would I be mad not to take it?” she asked.-He ticked the answers off on his fingers. “Volcanic soil; fresh water; great stores of magic. There are so many microclimates here that the kingdom is practically self-sustained. They grow nearly all that they require; Tulan imports next to nothing and has little debt. Smaller military, yes, but robust and well-trained. Historically it was a land constantly under siege, ruthlessly invaded and plundered by external forces, but the Nara line – Cyrus’s family line – was the first to fight back and win. They’ve staved off every foreign invasion in nearly a hundred years, giving them the stability they needed to flourish, build advanced weaponry, and develop modern magical defense systems. “There’s very little unemployment; the people have high literacy rates; and there’s advanced medical care accessible across the nation. As a whole, the empire is an extraordinary asset not only for its rich land and abundant resources, but because it comes with educated, happy, and productive citizens. There’s a reason Ardunia has tried to claim it for so long. If Cyrus is offering it, you should take it.” He shook his head sharply. “Without a doubt.”-Alizeh’s lips parted, surprise rendering her virtually speechless. “This is it, isn’t it?” She blinked at him. “This is the reason for the truce. The reason you and Cyrus made peace.” He shifted in his seat, briefly uncomfortable. “Yes.”-“You don’t want me,” she said, a faint smile touching her lips. “You want Tulan.”-“I want both.”-Now she laughed. “I appreciate your honesty – really, I do – but you’ve just outlined all the reasons Tulan makes for a remarkable nation. What could possibly motivate me to share

these riches with you when I might have them all for myself?”-“In this woven kingdom, clay and fire shall be.”-Alizeh lost her smile. She looked at him then with a pinch in her chest, her body stiff with

alarm. “You’ve seen my book,” she whispered.-“I found it in your carpetbag,” he said, “which you’d left behind in Ardunia.”-“Yes. I’d left it at Huda’s house.”-Kamran reached into his pocket and procured her handkerchief, which she accepted from his outstretched hand.-“Thank you,” she said, her heart pounding. She rubbed her thumb over the embroidered firefly, remembering her mother, her father, her fate. “I never thought I’d see this again.”-(..) He was strong and safe and assured, and for a moment she remembered exactly why she’d once kissed him.-“Marry me,” he whispered ardently. “Marry me after we’ve buried him, and we might bring together two of the greatest empires on earth. Together we would be an indomitable force. We can work together to change the fate of Jinn all over the world.”-She swallowed, overwhelmed by the feel of him. It was too much for her mind to sort.-“Kamran – I don’t –” The carriage door was yanked open with a flourish, a palace footman standing before them with a bright smile and an eager welcome. At once Alizeh pulled free of Kamran’s embrace, but not before she saw a familiar copper head in the distance, briefly there – then gone.”

“He shouldn’t have gone. He’d known better than to try to see her, but in the end he was a disappointment even to himself, only capable of so much self-restraint. Nearly a month he’d been kept from even seeing her face while she suffered, forced to remain at the farthest edge of the Diviners’ property while the others came and went at their leisure. It’d been hard enough to endure this separation when he knew she was safe and healing – but when he’d heard of the attempt on her life he’d nearly lost his head. All he could do was wait – wait for a signal that she was all right, wait for word that she was leaving the temple, wait at the door for her to arrive– It was annihilating, the power she held over him.”

“He reached for one of the apricots now, closing its soft, small shape into his hand as his thoughts raged. His mind kept returning to Alizeh and Kamran, to images of their embrace in the back of the carriage. The way she’d looked at him; the way he’d held her. Cyrus relinquished the apricot, which rolled to the floor, then dropped his head in his hands, his chest caving as he exhaled. They’d reconciled, then. Doubtless the Ardunian had told her everything, had talked it all through. Any minute now Alizeh would be along to bring Cyrus the good news that she’d be accepting his offer of marriage. She’d likely spare him the rest – too merciful to announce that she’d be marrying him while being quietly betrothed to another, the two of them conspiring to kill him and combine their empires. Cyrus knew he was unworthy of her – knew he had no right to hope for more than the terms he’d offered – and yet he could not calm the commotion in his chest, his heart thudding so hard he almost didn’t hear the gentle knock at his door. He turned toward the sound like a stone unearthed. He stood slowly, as if soaked in water, and moved through room after room in a stupor, reaching the main door without remembering how. He stood before the closed panel, his hand on the handle. He recoiled slightly when the knock came again. “Cyrus?” she said softly. “Are you there?” The sound of her voice nearly unhinged him. For weeks he’d lived in dreams of her; he’d memorized her laughter, held her naked in his arms, had known her gasps and cries of pleasure. She’d healed him and loved him. Touched him. Tasted him. Fuck. This was going to kill him. He took a shaky breath and pulled open the door.”

“ALIZEH LOST HER STRENGTH AT the sight of his face. His golden skin and startling blue eyes, the sheen of his coppery hair, his luminous features juxtaposing harshly against his black attire. She’d forgotten how tall he was, how arresting. She couldn’t remember if she’d ever stared at him straight on like this, free to map the cut of his cheekbones, the sharp lines of his jaw. He looked better rested than she remembered; more radiant as a result. Heavens, he was breathtaking.”

““Very well. Please let me know if I can be of service.” He withdrew with a respectful nod, and Alizeh, her mind finally catching up to her body, threw out her hand to keep the door open.-“Cyrus,” she said, alarmed. “Will you not look at me?”-He froze briefly before meeting her eyes, and when he did it was with a politeness so detached it astonished her. “Yes?” he said. “Was there something else?”-She heard the scurry of passing snodas, and drew closer to the door. “May I come inside? And speak with you privately?” Fear awoke in his gaze, so fleeting it was gone before she was convinced it had even existed. She searched for it again in his expression, but he only looked at her steadily, his composure cool as he said, “Of course.”He stepped aside to let her pass.”

“She hadn’t been alone with him since that night. The night everything and nothing had happened between them. Cyrus moved with ease, striding away from the door into the decadent antechamber. There was lush seating gathered around a pair of low tables, and Cyrus stood behind a chair while gesturing deferentially to another. He was waiting for her to take a seat before he sat down, and the attentive action was so unlike an imperious king it shocked her. Just earlier, Kamran had boarded the coach before she did, and Alizeh had thought nothing of it; expected nothing more. Always Cyrus was confusing her, and she was made so anxious by this simple gesture that she shook her head at him, too nervous to comply. “You’d rather stand?” He seemed surprised. “I take it this will be brief, then.”-“I – Yes –” Her heart would not slow its pounding. She felt feverish in his presence, and it was destroying her capacity for calm. “Yes, I’ve come to tell you – That is, I just wanted you to know that I’ve decided to accept your proposal,” she said finally. “Of marriage.”-He looked at her, his eyes placid. “Excellent.”-“Is it?” she said, attempting a smile. She clasped her hands against her waist, not knowing where to look. “I thought you’d be more pleased to hear it.”-“I don’t mean to offend,” he said, lowering his head. “It’s only that I find it hard to celebrate the orders of the devil.” Alizeh nearly winced; she felt so stupid. Of course he wouldn’t rejoice at the news; it was a terrible bargain for him, one that ended, theoretically, with his murder.”

““When?”She turned, stunned, for the single word was charged with more feeling than any she’d received from him tonight.-“I beg your pardon?” she said.-“When,” he said, “will you be ready to take your vows?” Alizeh blanched. She’d never thought of it that way: that she would vow to marry this man. That she’d promise aloud to honor and love and care for him for the rest of her life. To all the world thereafter he’d be known as her husband. She, his wife. The idea should’ve been offensive to her – but she was drawn, inexorably, to the idea of being with him. He, who was unproven and untrustworthy. He, whose life was braided with the devil’s. She’d never thought of herself as someone with such poor instincts, but she could imagine no other explanation for the ineffable pull she felt in his presence, the soul-deep reach. It was dangerous, how her heart beat at the sight of him. She knew she shouldn’t allow herself to feel such things when their marriage was destined to end in murder. And yet. When had she ever been so heavy with want?-“As soon as possible,” she whispered.-“Tomorrow?”-“Yes – No,” she corrected, trying to center herself. “The servants will need at least a couple of days to prepare, I think.”-He studied her with something that approached bewilderment. “Prepare for what? We need only a pair of witnesses and a Diviner to bind us.”-She hesitated. “Certainly some arrangements will need to be made. I realize it might be difficult to wed publicly – as I can’t imagine how we might secure such an event – but if at all possible, I wish for my people to bear witness. And maybe we could have a small cake? I think Omid would like that. And the staff, too, surely they’d enjoy –”-“No.”-She stared at him in surprise. “No? You don’t want cake?”-“No,” he said angrily. “I don’t want cake.”-“Very well,” she said, lowering her eyes. “I, myself, have never had cake. I don’t know whether it’s any good, but as it’s traditional in Clay weddings, I assumed –”-“You’ve never had cake?” he said, sounding suddenly bleak.-“My parents didn’t know how to cook or bake,” she said quietly. “And later, of course” – she looked away – “such luxuries were not within my reach.” She took a bracing breath, forcing herself to brighten as she met his eyes again. “Anyway, perhaps instead you might consent to wear something other than this black uniform –”-“No.”-“Cyrus –”-“No.”-“I don’t understand,” she said. “This was your idea – you wanted to get married –”-“Are you trying to punish me?” he said, his voice rising in anguish. “Do you really think me capable of pretending our wedding day is the happiest day of my life?”-She tried to maintain her composure then, steeling herself as she said, “Would you instead disgrace me in front of the world, making it seem as if marrying me is a chore? Will you spend our wedding day in a foul mood and funereal clothes? Would you have your household believe you detest me by denying them so much as a bite of something sweet in my honor?”-She saw the fight leave his body then, heard his unsteady exhale.-“Fine,” he said, the word so soft it was hardly a whisper. “Do what you will.”-“Thank you.”-(..)Finally, she saw a shade of truth in his gaze, and she could hardly breathe in the face of it. “Cyrus –”-“No,” he said sharply. “Don’t.”-She stopped in place, just inches separating them now. “Don’t what?”-“Alizeh,” he said. His chest was heaving, his body rigid with tension. “Be merciful.” These words lit a dangerous fire within her. She told herself to withdraw, but just then she couldn’t seem to move. She was in his orbit now, so close she could see the sharp wisps of his copper lashes, her head humid with sense memory. She wanted to touch him, to know the heat of his skin. She knew what his body was like under those clothes, how much power and passion he kept tightly leashed inside him. It was a revelation she’d been slow to unravel about Cyrus: that he possessed such careful control, such extraordinary discipline over his own body. Cyrus’s desire for her had been as scorching as a summer heat; she’d felt desperate under the weight of it, yet he’d not lifted a finger to her body. He’d never kissed her, never simply claimed what he wanted. Not the way Kamran once had. This was a fascinating discovery indeed – for royals, so saturated in overindulgence, seldom knew how to deny themselves.”

“She tried to adjust to the idea. “We’ll need a Diviner, won’t we? Is it too late?”-Again, he shook his head. “I can do it myself.”-Another shocking revelation. Blood oaths required an enchantment so advanced Alizeh had never heard of one being performed by anyone outside the priesthood. “Really?”-“Yes.”-She was quiet a long moment before she said, “Cyrus, will you never tell me the truth?”

He startled, lifting his head to reveal an unguarded fear. “The truth about what?”-“About who you really are. There’s so much you’re not telling me – so much that doesn’t make sense. Every time I speak with you I’m left with more questions.”-“Do you think I’ve been lying to you?”-“Yes,” she said, and paused. “Except that I have the strangest feeling you might be lying about how horrible you are.”-Cyrus almost smiled, though the action was weighed down by an unspoken grief. “Give me twenty minutes,” he said. “I need to prepare some things.”-“Are you going to ignore what I just said?”-He strode to the front door, which he opened in a fluid motion, shifting aside so she might exit.-She stared at him. “You want me to leave?” -There was a weakness in his eyes when he said, “No.”-“Cyrus –”-“We’ll need at least three witnesses,” he said, lowering his head. “Though I’m sure you’ll have no trouble convincing your friends to watch me suffer.” Alizeh frowned, then moved to the door in a daze, her skirts whispering along the floor. She came to a halt in front of him, their bodies only a hand apart – and she studied his chest, then his throat, his jaw, the curve of his lips. Her voice was a little breathless when she said, “You can’t just ignore the things I say and hope they go away.”-“I’ll meet you in the library downstairs,” he said. It was unconscious, what she did next; she didn’t mean to touch him, not exactly. In fact, she couldn’t even remember lifting her hand to his body. She only remembered the softness of his sweater, the heat and hardness of his torso beneath – and then relief, intoxicating relief when he finally touched her her, when he dragged his hands down her body with a tortured sound, his palms branding her through the thin tissue of her dress before he gripped her hips, hard, and she bit back a cry, startling as the door slammed shut only to discover, with a shock, that she was pressed against it, held in place by the hot length of him, his chest heaving so hard it seemed to mirror the chaos inside hers. He looked wild and barely leashed, as if the effort to keep himself still was actively killing him.-“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he said, his voice so rough it was unrecognizable. “You don’t know what I want from you, angel. You can’t even imagine.”-“What do you mean?” She stared up at him, her heart hammering in her chest. “What is it you want?”-His eyes seemed to glaze over at that, the blue of his irises blown out by black, and he dipped his head, nearly touching her lips as he exhaled, his body shaking. “Everything,” he whispered, releasing her suddenly, backing away as if she’d run him through with a blade. “I want everything.”-=Alizeh felt liquefied. For all the frost in her veins, she’d never known this kind of fever, never felt such desperation. And he’d never even kissed her. She made a breathless, anguished sound.-“I’ll see you downstairs,” he said, staring at the floor. “Twenty minutes.”-This time, she fled without a word.”

““No, he didn’t try to hurt me,” she said, delivering the words with more heat than she intended, and regretting it the moment she saw the astonishment on Huda’s face.“Forgive me,” she said. “I didn’t mean to direct that anger at you. It’s been a difficult day.”-Huda softened at once, her eyes heavy with sympathy. “Of course, dear. I understand.” Alizeh had never been in such a bad mood.-She drew away from Huda, wrapping her arms around herself. She felt frustrated and confused; she wanted the world around her to make sense, and it didn’t. Cyrus was supposed to be evil. She wanted him to act evil. He wasn’t supposed to be kind and deferential and considerate. He was the character she was meant to kill without a crisis of conscience. She wasn’t supposed to lose her head. She wasn’t supposed to feel like this, like there was an open wound inside her, like she wanted to sit down and cry. The feeling came dangerously close to grief.”

““Your Majesty,” came a familiar, agitated voice, and Alizeh spun around to see Hazan all but running toward her. He reached her in moments, taking a beat to study the sight of her before he said, “Are you all right?”-“Why wouldn’t I be?” she said, surprised by his concern. “Has something else happened?”-“I was informed that you went up to his quarters alone – I didn’t realize you’d be in a closed room when you spoke with him – I swear, if he laid a finger on you –”-Alizeh’s bad mood returned. “Why is everyone so concerned he’s going to hurt me? Prior to your arrival, I spent a great deal of time alone with Cyrus, and I never came to harm.”-“Respectfully, Your Majesty,” Hazan said with forced calm, “when we found you, you were unconscious, your throat had been cut, you’d suffered a head wound, and you were covered in blood.”-“Must we speak like this in front of the servants?” she said desperately.-He lowered his voice. “The Diviners said they found half-healed dragon bites along your leg and torso–”-“And then you woke up,” Huda added in a dramatic whisper, “only to be shot in the back and tossed off a cliff.”-“That was Kamran’s doing!”-“What was my doing?” Alizeh looked up to find Kamran approaching their group. He smiled at her with genuine pleasure, then caught sight of Huda and scowled.-“What are you doing here?” he said, turning his eyes to Hazan. “You were supposed to meet me in the parlor. Why are you all standing in the hall having a heated discussion?”-“How interesting that you should ask,” Huda said sweetly. “Alizeh was just reminiscing about the time you nearly killed her.”-Kamran’s expression only darkened. “I doubt that.” “

“She looked up at him, surprised. It was not that she felt uncomfortable, exactly; she cared for Kamran, and felt quite safe with him. It was more that she wanted to be clear that she did not, at this time, consider him anything more than a friend. She thought to say something, but couldn’t decide whether she’d be overreacting to so small a gesture, and resolved to ignore it. Her mind was full enough as it was.-“Hazan,” she said, trying again. “Could you lead us to the library? I’ll explain everything when we have some privacy –”Just then she heard a scream; she turned toward the sound to find that a snoda had gone rigid at the sight of her, and when Alizeh looked upon the girl, she made a choking sound and collapsed in the middle of the hall. Alizeh panicked, remembering then that a handful of Jinn servants worked in the palace, and moved as if to go to her, but Hazan tugged her back.-“You can’t,” he said.”

“Hazan shook his head. “I’m taking you away from here. You can’t wander these halls alone anymore.” Glancing at Huda and Kamran, he said, “You two, meet us in the library.” Then, “And try not to kill each other before you get there.”-“But, Hazan – wait – someone has to help the snodas –”-“I’ll do it,” came a familiar, saccharine voice. Alizeh turned, unnerved, to see Sarra striding toward their group at a leisurely pace. Sarra shook her head, her eyes fixed on Alizeh as she said, “What a strange and fascinating surprise you’ve turned out to be. Lately everywhere I turn there seems to be some drama, and you, my dear, at the center of it.” “

““This way,” she whispered.-“Are you sure?” Huda whispered back. “Good grief, this room feels haunted at night.”-“Maybe that’s because you’re here,” Kamran said in an undertone.-Huda gasped. “Maybe you –”-“Enough,” Hazan said sharply. “Keep your stupidity to yourselves this evening or I’ll have you both thrown in the dungeons.”-“You have no authority to do such a thing,” Huda protested.-“You think Cyrus would deny me such a request?” “

“Alizeh had to force herself to stand back, to give Cyrus a wide berth. It was better for her when there was distance between them, when her mind could think beyond the space he took up inside her. Even now she fought for self-possession. Heat had gathered low inside her cold body as it never had in her life, a frantic need building within her, quickening across her skin. She struggled not to stare at his mouth, which drew her eyes over and over; struggled to shove aside the memory of his words, still unprocessed. Everything, he’d said. I want everything. She startled, suddenly, at the feel of a hand at her back, and looked up to find Kamran standing beside her once more. Twice now this had happened, which registered in her clouded mind as worrisome, for he seemed to think she welcomed these proprietary touches, despite the fact that there was no understanding between them. She’d need to take him aside soon and make it clear that she’d yet to make a decision about his offer. In fact, she didn’t think she’d be able to give it more thought until she’d first dealt with the pressing issues before her.-“You’re late,” Cyrus said without preamble, drawing away from the fireplace as he did. He approached them as an apparition might, his movements slow and liquid. His eyes, she thought, were almost angry – except she blinked, and he appeared unflappably calm.-“Your Majesty,” said Hazan, turning to her. “Perhaps now you can tell us why we’re gathered here.”-Cyrus came to a halt. “You haven’t told them?” “

““You son of a bitch,” Hazan said, stalking toward Cyrus as if he might kill him.“How dare you – she’s only just awoken – she’s hardly had a chance to recover, to spend time in her own head –”-“Hazan, please, it was my choice – I agreed –”-“She won’t be affected by the oath,” Cyrus said, his voice clipped. “I’m the one who will bear the burden of pain.”-Hazan stopped. “Have you ever witnessed, firsthand, the consequences of a blood oath?” He gestured to the room. “Or have you only read about it in your precious books?”-Cyrus stared stonily at Hazan. “I’ve read about it widely. I’ve heard personal accounts from the Diviners – I’m perfectly capable –”-“I’ve seen it with my own eyes!” Hazan exploded. “You think this is a simple matter? You will be giving up a piece of your soul, of your free will –”-“I am well aware –”-Hazan turned once more to Alizeh, beseeching her. “Your Majesty, you must understand – the cost of such a magic is too great. Once this is done, you will all but own a piece of him. You’ll carry him with you as deadweight; he’ll be physically incapable of being apart from you –”-“And she’ll have to kill him to put an end to it.” This, from Kamran, who’d drawn somehow closer to her. “I don’t see that as a bad thing, Hazan.”-“What do you mean,” Alizeh said, her thoughts racing madly, “that he’ll be physically incapable of being apart from me? I knew there was a tether, but I didn’t realize it manifested in such a literal way.”-“Yes, Your Majesty,” said Hazan, who seemed relieved by her shock. “It’s a merciless bond, used throughout history only by the most desperate creatures, with grim results for both parties involved –”-“He exaggerates,” Cyrus interjected. “In the beginning, yes, it will be difficult, which is why I’ve asked to do this as soon as possible –”-“Always!” Hazan cried. “It’s always difficult! It’s worst in the beginning, yes – at first, the pain of separation will be unendurable – and perhaps, in a matter of days, you’ll be able to stand a dozen feet apart from her without wanting to drive a dagger through your skull. In months, if you’re lucky, you might endure the distance of a wheat field – but you will never be able to part from her for long. Until your debt is paid you will never again have independence. It is the very nature of a blood oath to keep a debtor chained to their creditor, and I am appalled that you’d commit to such magic without knowing the facts.”-“I know the facts,” Cyrus said darkly. “I simply have no choice. My debt to her is my death. When it is done, I will be, too.”-“Cyrus,” she whispered. “Are you certain –”-“It’s the only way,” said Kamran. “We can’t trust him without the oath. You cannot marry him without the guarantee –”-“Then perhaps she shouldn’t marry him at all!” Hazan said furiously. He fought for composure, then turned to Alizeh as he said, “Is it truly so imperative that you wed him, Your Majesty? Can you not accept Kamran, instead, when he’s already offered for you–”-“How did you know that?” Alizeh glanced at Cyrus, whose body was rigid even as he stared silently at the floor. “I haven’t – I didn’t tell anyone –”-“Oh, my dear, we’ve known of his intentions for some time,” said Huda, putting an arm around her shoulder. “The prince has only been talking about it for weeks.”-Alizeh looked at Kamran, at the steady look in his eyes, and her mind went blank. “Forgive me,” she said to him. “But I – I haven’t made a decision with regard to – that is, I only know that if I don’t marry Cyrus, the devil will kill him anyway.” Her heart wrenched in her chest, her voice dropping to a whisper. “He is doomed to die one way or another.”-“Precisely,” said Kamran, unmoved. He turned to the others. “If he is to die regardless, why shouldn’t she walk away with a prize? I’ve already advised her to take the offer –”-“You advised her?” Cyrus said darkly, his eyes flashing with unchecked hatred. “You mean you advised her to marry me?” It was the first time Cyrus had addressed Kamran, his voice so heavy with loathing it radiated tension throughout the room.-“Yes,” said Kamran, whose own eyes were mocking. “I encouraged her not to lose an opportunity to reap the reward of killing you.”-“At least I have something to offer her. Meanwhile you dare to promise her a kingdom you’ve yet to inherit. Empty promises from an ousted prince who might never be king.” Kamran stiffened. Cyrus studied him, his voice soft and lethal when he said, “Did you think I wouldn’t find out what really happened when you left Ardunia? I don’t care what the papers say about your popularity among the masses. Your Diviners don’t think you worthy of the throne.”-“What?” Alizeh said. “Is that true?”-Kamran stepped forward, looking murderous. “I didn’t realize we were sharing secrets,” he said to Cyrus. “Perhaps you’d like to explain to everyone why I once found you collapsed on the grounds in the dead of night, every inch of you so covered in blood you could hardly open your eyes?”-Cyrus tensed, and Alizeh inhaled sharply.-“How many other enemies do you have?” Kamran was saying. “How many other revolting vices? Do you spend your nights gambling? In the arms of prostitutes? You’re so depraved you have no protection from the violence of thugs even as king –”-“That’s enough,” said Alizeh, experiencing a rare flash of anger. She, who knew exactly why such a thing had happened to Cyrus, could listen to no more of this slander.“You cast aspersions upon his character without possession of the facts –”-“His character?” Kamran was stunned. “What character? The man murdered his own father for a crown! He murdered my grandfather. Murdered our Diviners! I have reason to suspect he’s been sending spies into Ardunia for months – has he mentioned that? Has he offered any explanations for launching covert missions into our empire? For breaking the Nix accords by drawing magical boundaries between our lands? His every action is a manipulation! His every word is chosen in the pursuit of his own selfinterest. Heaven knows what else he’s done in the course of his dissipated life!”-Alizeh absorbed these horrible facts, hating that she could not deny them, that Cyrus refused to speak of his father, to explain his actions. She hadn’t known about the spies, and when she glanced at Cyrus for a reaction to this fresh accusation, she found him staring impassively at the wall. He made no move to refute the charge, and yet these assertions felt at odds with all that she’d learned of him; he did not, in fact, strike her as the kind of person who acted only in his own self-interest. The tense moment inspired a memory as evidence; when she’d first arrived in Tulan, she’d pressed Cyrus for information about his deal with the devil and he’d said –I must live long enough to accomplish something crucial. Beyond that, my beating heart is of no consequence. You have no idea what’s at stake. My life is the least of it. The nosta had confirmed this as truth.(..)“Nevertheless,” she said finally. “His torture was inflicted by the devil – I know this because I saw it happen myself –”-“We need not discuss this,” said Cyrus, flashing her an inscrutable look. “The opinion of a worthless royal means nothing to me.”-“You would truly defend him?” Kamran said, ignoring this as he turned to her. “It’s a great credit to your compassion that you would pity someone as corrupted as he, but I would implore you not to spare another thought for his foul soul. I don’t care if Iblees roasts him over a spit every night. He put himself in this situation – he capitulated to the devil, he sold himself to darkness.” Kamran gestured widely. “These are the consequences. He will lose Tulan, which we should be happy to claim upon his death. I refuse to be sorry for capitalizing upon another man’s stupidity.”-“Well,” said Cyrus, taking a sharp breath. “As much as I enjoy listening to your plans to feast upon my corpse, I’ve grown tired of this conversation.”-Alizeh was shaking her head. “Cyrus, please – I don’t share his sentiments –”-“And I don’t care to discuss it,” he said quietly, turning away. “It’s getting late, and I’d rather return to the task at hand.”-“Yes,” she said, hesitating. “Of course –”“Your Majesty,” said Hazan. “Must this gruesome deed be done tonight, of all nights, when you’ve only just returned to us? Could we not take more time to consider the other options available?”-Alizeh sighed heavily, closing her eyes a moment before turning to her friend. “What options, Hazan? What other options do I have? Already I’ve been missing for a month. Already there’s been an attempt on my life. Today we have seventy thousand Jinn gathered, but soon that number will double, and double again. What then?” She shook her head. “Am I to remain silent forever? Am I to haunt the halls of this palace, letting my people languish without leadership, without answers – without hope? What of the external pressures facing Tulan? What of the needs of Ardunia? We cannot

remain here, in this in-between place forever. Clearly  Kamran needs to return home to address the turbulence he left behind; Huda and Deen have families waiting for them –”-“Oh, please don’t rush things on our account,” Huda piped in. “I’ve absolutely no desire to see my family, and Deen is rather going through something, actually, and though he’s been vague about the details, he doesn’t seem in any hurry to –”-“Yes, thank you, Huda,” Hazan said quietly.-Again, Alizeh sighed. “It kills me that I’m not yet ready to lead. That I have nothing to say, that I can offer only empty promises. I need a crown, Hazan, and I need it now. Cyrus and I have discussed it, and we will marry in two days’ time.”-“Two days?” Hazan paled, his eyes wide with shock. Even Kamran turned sharply to look at her.

“Yes,” she said steadily. “Two days. I want to return to Ardunia immediately after the wedding.”-“What?” said Cyrus, straightening. “You didn’t mention –”-“That means he’ll have to come with us,” said Huda. “Right? If the blood oath makes it so he’s unable to be parted from her, he’ll be forced to come back to Ardunia with us, won’t he?”-“Yes,” Kamran said darkly.-“Your Majesty,” said Hazan, who was not yet convinced. “We can embark on a quest to the Arya mountains straightaway – you need not marry first. We can leave for Ardunia tomorrow –”-“No,” she said. “I must secure my crown before departing Tulan. I need to know who I am and where my home will be. I cannot leave my people without a show of faith; I need them to trust that I’ll return – that I’ll not abandon them. This is the way.”-Hazan stood before her, astonishment rendering him absolutely still, and Alizeh knew she’d won the fight when he responded only with an unsteady breath. Blindly Hazan retreated, sinking into the nearest chair.“I understand,” he whispered. “I hate it, but I understand.”-“Excellent,” Cyrus said, the word charged with heat. “Are we finally done? Or are there more debates to be had? Please let me know now, so I might schedule time to lose the rest of my mind.”-“No,” said Alizeh gently. “We’re done.”-He looked at her then, finally looked at her for more than a fraction of a second, and she was surprised to find in his gaze something that looked a great deal like fear. Her heart broke at the sight, and she moved instinctively toward him when he suddenly pivoted, then walked away. She watched in silent confusion as Cyrus went to the door along the back wall, pushing it open to let in the night air. Alizeh stiffened, then shivered.-“What are you doing?” asked Hazan, who’d risen to his feet. “Will you not be performing the ceremony here?”-“No,” Cyrus said, his voice low and dark. “I don’t want any blood near my books.” And he stepped outside.”

“He hated these people. Hated that he had to show restraint before them, hated that he couldn’t simply kill the odious prince, whose every breath was an effrontery. Even then, even as he followed an old path to an old cottage to lay the foundation of his own pitiful end, he wanted to turn around and slit the idiot’s throat. More than that, he wanted to fall to his knees. This tremble inside him, this madness in his heart – it was all for her. All for her. He could hardly look at Alizeh without losing his mind.”

“He heard hurried footfalls as someone approached him, the movements heavy enough to indicate a certain height and mass. Cyrus turned slightly to see that Hazan had come up on his left.“How much longer will this take?” said the Jinn impatiently. “I was unaware we’d be required to tramp through a field in the freezing cold, otherwise I would’ve brought a coat.”-“I was unaware you were so easily fatigued,” said Cyrus. “I admit I’m disappointed. I thought you were more resilient than that.”-“Alizeh,” he said angrily, “is nearly blue with frost. Her gown is made of tissue. She is frozen enough in the general course of things without this added –” “

“Only when they were alone did she release him, and he felt almost as if he’d been tricked.-“Cyrus,” she said.-He was afraid to look at her face. He would not look into her eyes.“Yes?” he said to the dark.-“Thank you,” she said softly. “Your coat is so warm I fear I could fall asleep inside it.”-He swallowed, hating the way this gratified him. “You’re welcome.”-“Can I ask you a question?”-“No.”-She laughed, and he wanted to dissolve. “Here is my question,” she said. “If you cannot bear to be near me now, how will you survive what’s yet to come?” “

““Cyrus,” she whispered.-He shook his head, inhaling sharply as he finally tore himself away. “I won’t survive it,” he said. “It’s your job to make sure I don’t.” “

“It didn’t matter that she wanted to trust him anyway. It didn’t matter that he’d given her the coat off his back, that she was warmed even then by the heat of him, her head dizzy with the lingering scent of his skin. It didn’t matter that she watched him now with a longing that was as painful to her as it was confusing. Alizeh had made a decision, and she would not diverge from the path before her. She’d been born to lead her people to freedom, to protect them from the cruelty of a world that sought to misunderstand and destroy them. Nothing else could matter. She had to accept as fact that sometimes revolution demanded darkness in exchange for light. Here, tonight, was proof. Cyrus came to a stop in front of the cottage door, reaching for the handle when he suddenly hesitated, then turned back to look upon their small party. “Have any of you experienced magic before?”-“Magic?” said Huda drily. “You mean like that nasty trick you pulled that made me lose my voice?”-“Or when you left the prince paralyzed,” Hazan added, “and half-dead in his own home?”-“Bastard,” Kamran muttered.-“I’m referring to organic magic,” Cyrus said impassively. “Have you ever felt it in its pure, unprocessed form?”-“No,” said Alizeh, who felt a prickle of unease. “Why?” “

“Hazan pulled down one such jar from the shelf, turning it over in his hands as he said, quietly, “I haven’t seen silver ash in years.” He looked up at Cyrus. “What is this place? Is it all yours?”-Cyrus only averted his eyes and said, “I’ll be ready in a minute.” He allowed them to explore the cottage without further comment, though Alizeh watched him carefully. His eyes were unreadable as he crossed the room to a closed cabinet, pressed his hand against the wood, and stepped back as a series of locks audibly unlatched. The door swung open with a whine, and he quickly withdrew something from its interior, pocketed the item, and closed the compartment. He pressed his hand once more over the wood, resealing the door. Alizeh watched in awe as he did this, for she realized then, as she turned her eyes again to the room, that she continued to underestimate him. She thought she’d already given Cyrus more credit than he’d rightfully earned, but she saw now that she hadn’t even grasped the full depth of his person. Indeed the more she learned about Cyrus the less she understood him; he was like a destination in the distance that grew farther away as she approached. Certainly no ordinary person knew magic like this.”

““Wow,” whispered Huda, who stood before a massive worktable that spanned the length of the room. Upon its weathered counter were sundry tools and objects, among them a cracked mortar and pestle, a stack of motheaten books, a sheaf of crumbling papers, and desiccated wells of ink. Alizeh drew closer to the table and blew away a layer of dust from a rack of glass vials, the glittering, jewel-toned liquids sloshing eagerly inside their containers.-“Ha,” said Kamran, who’d plucked a book of nursery rhymes from a shelf. He turned the aged, leather volume over in his hands with a reluctant smile. “My father used to read me these stories.”-“Really?” Huda went to him as he opened it, standing on tiptoe to peer over his shoulder. “But Kamran, these pictures are terrifying.”-“That’s why he liked them,” he said, laughing as he turned a page.- Huda glimpsed the next image and gasped, drawing away from him as she crossed her arms. “I would never read such horrifying books to my children.”

Kamran snapped the book shut with a scowl, turning to face her. -“Are you criticizing my dead father?” -“I suppose I am.”-“And am I to tolerate your impertinence, as if I have any interest in how you might raise your hypothetical children – the acquisition of which, I should note, would first require you to convince a man to part with his mind long enough to spend his days in your infuriating company –”-“Infuriating? You think I’m infuriating? Meanwhile you’ve never so much as unplugged your aristocratic ears long enough to hear the opinions of others, much less the odious sound of your own voice –”-“Would you two please shut up,” said Hazan lazily, plucking another jar off the shelf. He smoothed out the peeling label, squinting at the writing. “This is hardly the time or the place.” Huda and Kamran shared a dark look before stalking off in opposite directions, the tension between them so fascinating, Alizeh was briefly distracted from the weight in her chest.”

““Good God, how on earth did you source so much powdered heart?” said Hazan suddenly, turning to search the room for Cyrus. He was holding a glass jar full of something that looked like scarlet sand. “This is illegal in Ardunia.” “

““Very well,” she said softly, discreetly tucking the bit of crystal into her boot before she straightened. “What do I need to do?”-“Nothing,” said Hazan, who was striding toward Cyrus. “Not yet. This

first part will only affect the debtor.”-Cyrus looked at him. “Have you come to chaperone?”-“Joke if you like,” said Hazan gravely, “but I’ll be here to make sure you don’t die in the process.”-“Die?” said Alizeh sharply. “Has that happened before?”-“Yes,” they both said at the same time.-“But –”-“There’s nothing for you to do if it comes to that,” Cyrus was saying. “Once the oath is spoken aloud, the magic cannot be stopped.”-“If your skin comes detached from your body, perhaps not, but you won’t speak until later. Should there be any early sign of danger, I’ll intercede.” Hazan hesitated. “You’re certain you’ll be able to manage the enchantment even as it tortures you? Traditionally, this sort of thing is conducted by a Diviner, as most people wouldn’t be able to endure the pain long enough to complete the oath –”-Cyrus looked irritated. “I’ll be fine.”-“Wait,” said Alizeh, trying to hold on to calm. “I just – Cyrus, is it common for people in Tulan to be so magical?”-He hesitated before saying, “No. Not exactly.”-“Then is it safe, what you’re about to do? If there are so many risks involved, should we not wait, perhaps, for a Diviner? Someone professionally trained?”-He turned his eyes to the floor. “I am professionally trained.”-(..)“He trained at the temple for almost seventeen years,” Hazan offered before glancing at Cyrus, who stiffened. “He was enrolled at the temple by age three, and took preliminary vows to join the priesthood when he turned eighteen. He’s as close to a Diviner as a person can be.”-Alizeh experienced a sharp pain in her sternum, so shocked she could hardly find the words. “What?”-“A Diviner?” said Kamran, stunned. “Him?”-“Rather a fall from grace, I think,” muttered Huda.-“You wanted to become a Diviner?” Alizeh shook her head. She felt inexplicably heartsick. “Heavens. Your mother once told me you’d been studying magic since you were child. I can’t believe I didn’t understand then what she meant.”-Cyrus returned his gaze to the ground. He sounded angry when he said, “I don’t care to discuss it.”-(...)“I don’t understand your reticence to speak of it,” said Hazan. “You guard this truth as if it’s a secret, when in fact it’s widely held information. Just earlier I asked your mother whether she knew why you never wore a crown, and she told me right then that you’d refused adornment since the day you decided to take your vows. It took little prompting to come by the rest of the details. Hell, I was offered firsthand accounts from your otherwise tight-lipped staff – some of whom have worked in the palace since you were a boy. They heard us discussing your past and offered to tell me the story of your old nursemaid, how you once bounced off the roof –”-“That’s enough.”-“He bounced off the roof?” said Huda, delighted. “Who told you this? Was it the housekeeper?”-“No,” said Hazan, “though I did ask, then, if any of them knew why he wore black all the time, and the housekeeper said he’d once told her that he was in mourning.”-“What?” Alizeh looked at Cyrus. “In mourning for what?”-“Good God.” Cyrus pushed both hands through his hair.-“Hold a moment – this makes no sense,” said Kamran. “You were heir

to the throne. How could your parents allow you to pursue a path to priesthood? No respectable kingdom would allow their firstborn to relinquish a duty to the empire –”-“Oh, also” – Huda lifted a finger – “and forgive me for being so blunt about it – but if you didn’t want to be king, why did you kill your father? You might’ve let him keep his crown if you weren’t keen to follow in his footsteps.”-“He’s not the firstborn, actually,” supplied Hazan. “He’s the spare. It turns out he has an older brother – though, interestingly, it was the one subject everyone refused to discuss –” “

“Cyrus’s anger was as palpable as the weight of magic in the air, and Alizeh was distraught as she looked at him. It changed nothing to know these things, and yet, somehow, it changed everything. She longed to know what’d happened – what had shifted in his life to bring him to this moment? How had he gone from the Diviners to the devil?”

“He closed his eyes and held out his hands, palms up, and soon there came a spine-chilling sound, like a skitter of insects, as a skin of darkness formed slowly along the ceiling. “Wait – what are you doing?” Kamran asked, alarmed. Cyrus threw up his arm and, in a move that seemed to require sheer physical strength, he dragged the heaving black shadow down the wall. The strain of this exertion was evident in the lines of his face, the veins in his neck. He pulled at this skin until it finally fell into place beneath their feet, and when it did, Alizeh felt the world tilt. Then she heard Cyrus scream.”

““Is this black magic?”-Very slowly, Alizeh looked up. Cyrus hung in the air unclothed, naked save a shroud that coiled around his body like a ribbon, so dark it appeared almost to sever him in pieces, choking his throat, his arms, part of his torso, and his hips – the magic sparing him a modicum of privacy. Alizeh fell back, aghast.-“No,” said Hazan, his voice grave. “It’s not black magic. It’s simply barbaric.” “

““No,” said Hazan. “Not yet.” He looked up then, his voice imbued with a surprising compassion when he said, “Cyrus, are you able to speak?” Cyrus did not open his eyes, though he made an effort to swallow, then nodded his head. Alizeh looked from Hazan to Cyrus, her heart hammering in her chest. The realities of this disturbing night were becoming too monstrous, and she was suddenly stricken with fear. When Cyrus finally spoke, his voice was ravaged.

Freely I bind my body,

these chains of my own design.

I offer my blood as bond,

until I repay this debt of mine.

“Now,” said Hazan softly, “he will speak aloud his promises.” -Cyrus looked nearly wrecked, his chest straining as he struggled to draw breath. “I offer you my kingdom,” he said, the rasp of his voice

unrecognizable, “in exchange for your hand in marriage. And I vow never to touch you unless you should desire that I do. Once I’m discharged of my debt to the devil, I offer you my life. You are free to kill me then at your discretion, for I will die willingly at your hand.”-Hazan exhaled shakily beside her, looking uncharacteristically distressed. Out of the corner of her eye, Alizeh glimpsed Kamran and Huda, too, who’d been so silent she’d nearly forgotten they were still in the room. Everyone looked rattled and grim, though none were as disturbed as she. Once more, Cyrus spoke:

Should you choose to accept my oath,

my blood is yours to claim.

Wear my pledge upon your back,

then speak aloud my name. “

““I did try to warn you,” he said, his eyes heavy.-“I know – I know you did –”-“You can still walk away. You’ve not yet accepted his oath. He will still suffer for a time, but not to the same degree.” He looked away. “But it’s cruel to leave him in agony like this. Even someone like him. Whatever you choose, you must make your decision now.”-There was no decision to make. Alizeh could not walk away; she’d already made her choice. She’d already promised herself she’d stay the course, that she’d do what was best for her people – what was necessary to secure their future, their safety. She’d already argued this decision to its end, and she knew what she needed to do. She simply wished she didn’t have to. Shaking, she shook out the cloak, then whipped the heaving mass of it around her shoulders, where it settled and clung like a second skin, molding to the shape of her back. Her heart was frenzied now, beating so hard it was making her dizzy. She drew a deep, steadying breath, then turned her eyes to the man she would soon marry.”

“The feeling soon settled into something altogether pleasurable, leaving her light-headed and steaming, unsteady on her feet. It was with a delicious relief that Alizeh felt as if she’d been set on fire. Her cheeks were hot, her head drowsed and heavy. It was surprisingly intimate, the feel of his blood in her veins, the fever of him now living inside her. She wondered whether this warmth would linger always, for the change within her had occurred with astonishing speed. It was as if something had been hooked inside her soul, tethering her to a heart whose beat she could almost feel. She knew without lifting her head exactly where Cyrus hung in the air above her. She knew that, no matter where he went, she could walk a path to him blindly.-“Your Majesty?” said Hazan, watching her closely. “Are you –” There was a violent sound, like a gust of wind, and without warning Cyrus was released from his bonds, his limp body hitting the bloodied floor so hard the horrible crack echoed all around them. Like a desperate moth, his black shroud fluttered as it fell with him, cloaking his naked figure. Alizeh drew a sharp breath.’

““Does it hurt terribly even though I am here?” she asked him, searching his face.-He merely blinked at her, the action slow and tired, before his eyes closed once more. “Cyrus?” She was panicking now. “Cyrus, can you speak?”-“It’s best if you don’t force him,” said Hazan quietly. “For him, the hell of this night has only just begun.” “

““Are you hurting again?”-“No,” he said. “Yes. I don’t know.” She studied him a moment more, deliberating as she searched his face. -“I’ve been sitting just there,” she said, nodding to a chair in a corner, its heavy shadows lifting as a starburst of color shattered across the room. “I must’ve fallen asleep earlier, but I promise I’m not going anywhere. Okay?”-“Okay,” he said. “You need to rest.”-He swallowed, still staring at her. He wondered if she had any idea what he’d do for her, the worlds he’d destroy for her. “Okay.”-“Good,” she said, almost smiling as she drew her hand over his brow, stealing his breath in the process. “If you need anything at all, I’ll be right over there.”-She stood up to leave and he panicked.-“No,” he said quickly. “Please stay.” “

““Why are you afraid?”-He shook his head, his eyes closing against his will. “Because,” he said, and sighed. “You’re never here when I wake up.”-He felt the whisper of her breath against his forehead, then the press of her lips, so gentle against his skin, and he felt certain now, unequivocally, that he was dreaming.-“I’ll be here,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere.” Then, softer, her lips grazing the curve of his ear: “You can’t lie to me forever, Cyrus. I’m going to find out the truth about you, and when I do, I promise you this: I’ll ruin him. I’ll make the devil regret the day he was born.” “

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------♥

*This Woven Kingdom (February, 1st, 2022)

*These Infinite Threads (February 7th, 2023)

*All This Twisted Glory (February 6th, 2024)

#tahereh mafi #this woven kingdom #this woven kingdom series #these infinite threads #Alizeh #alizeh and kamran #alizehkamran #alizeh and cyrus #alizehcyrus #king cyrus #prince kamran #empire of ardunia #ardunia #king of tulan #empire of tulan #jinn kingdom #queen alizeh #Shatter Me series #hazan #hazan and his firefly #hazan and kamran #karmran and hazan #miss huda #hazan x kamran #king kamran #kamranhazan #hazankamran #kamran x hazan #alizeh x kamran #all this twisted glory

[terrovaniadorm]

Hellooooo

Coming out from the ceiling to ask about Indulgent trope with...* pulls out list* please:

47. Zelda/Rodrigue 

91.Anpu/Anatolia

54. Shura/Keres 

You can choose of course !

ANDHRA.. YOUR HUGE BRAIN RAAA crying as i type these

[Trigger warning for mentions of death (Zelda/Rodrigue) and homophobia (Shura/Keres)? Just in case]

[47. one muse presumes the other is dead but is shocked when they show up alive again]

Zelda loved Rodrigue, they truly did. Ever since their first year in Terrovania together they've been inseparable, even as Rodrigue got sick, they didn't leave his side. Even when he died, they cried by his side, only being pulled away by Elvina. Despite their grief Zelda lived on, they kept his gifts, his photos close to their chest even after years, even starting NRC for the 4th time, they'd keep it till the day they perished.

It was their 5th time in NRC, it's fun getting into different forms, they adjusted their robes for their horns, they wished they had a custom robe like the Valley prince! It wasn't fair. They watched the new students get sorted into their dorm, even they got sorted into Savanaclaw, how fun! It was a mostly uneventful ceremony, until they saw familiar, red locks pass by them towards the mirror. For the first time in their life, Zelda stood there, mouth hanging open as the man they once loved and grieved over was sorted into Pomefiore.

Soon as the ceremony was over they ran after him, not letting their lion dorm leaders yelling stop them. "Rodrigue!" the mysterious red haired man stopped in his tracks, turning to the demon, pulling his hood down to reveal it was indeed Rodrigue.

"Griselda?-"

He said before being tackled to the ground by them, grimacing when his back hit the ground "My god! How! How are you alive!? Where have you been!? I was-" Rodrigue cut off the tearful demon with a hand on their cheek. "It's a long story.."

Zelda smiled, wiping their tears, then kissing the palm of his hand, "You'll tell me what happened or I'll never forgive you!" seeing their playful personality return Rodrigue smiled, "Fine, i will"

After their small reunion, the demon dragged the redhead to their dorm, once again ignoring their furry dorm leaders protests.

[54. one muse has feelings for the other but has not acted on them due to their association with another character (a sibling / relative / ex / etc. ) or an organization]

"God damn it Cerise."

Their oldest sisters voice made Keres flinch, they looked down at their lap, sitting on the couch as Maggie walked back and forth in front of them. "All we wanted was for you to find a good boyfriend, not only you're interested in a woman, she's a fucking criminal" Keres wanted to say something but she cut them of "You'll cut contact with her." "But-" they quickly shut up when Maggie slammed her palm on the table "Don't talk back to me!"

"If i hear you still talk with her you can say bye bye to Night Raven."

...

It was hard, trying to ignore their feelings for Shura, sure Keres always knew their crushes would never happen buy it was still hard when they've been getting closer with Shura. It hurt, at least they could distract themselves when they weren't at school events together. They didn't expect her to visit them out of nowhere though, bringing a gift, a small Keychain "For your collection." she said, with a smile, they smiled back. "I appreciate it." they replied, they hoped their tone didn't come out pathetic as they thought it'd... They wished to be with her but it seemed impossible now.

"I...need to go now. See ya."

They quickly left, leaving Shura confused but content that they liked the gift, she smiled "Weird gal." she said, not noticing the others eyes filling with tears, Keres couldn't help but cry, looking the small gift in their hands.

They just wished things were different.

[91. our muses run away together]

Anpu couldn't believe Anatolia's story, in the sense that it was tragic, he pitted her and her siblings. So he took her hands in his, looked at her sunny eyes. "Then let's leave Wonderland." Anatolia blinked, mouth hanging open in shock, "But... My brothers." Anpu couldn't help when his ears fell back, "I know, you care about them but it's too late for Eleusis and Orpheus... I just want you to be safe. Please."

It was silent between them, she couldn't leave her brothers despite everything but she knew she couldn't save them especially by herself but she also know Anpu couldn't help with limitations in wonderland... Neither of them truly had a choice, the time was limited, she had to decide. "I... I know. I'll come with you." Anpu gave her a smile, a one filled with sorrow and pity, he knew she was struggling and trying to help in the best way he could.

"We don't need much, we can run away whenever you want."

She nodded "Let's leave now, because i change my mind and regret." The Jackal God took ahold of her hands gently brushing his thumbs on her palms, "I love you." "I love you too." They exchanged words softly.

This was going to do be a new page in her life, one she choose to be safe.

#Thanks for the ask!! #I hope you enjoy my goofy writing i tried #Also keres oldest sister reveal!! Not a fun one! #I like my ships a little bittersweet /j #Twst oc #Rodrigue De Nostredame #Shura Mori #Anatolia Ronsard #Answered

[vanderwoodlings]

calling out your name in my sleep: a dan/nate playlist (x)

Text version of the tracklist (with commentary) under the cut

1. “Somebody Told Me,” The Killers. Lemme just fix that love triangle for you, okay?

1. “Somebody Told Me,” The Killers. Lemme just fix that love triangle for you, okay?

2. “Just What I Needed,” The Cars. I don't mind you hangin' out/And talkin' in your sleep.

3. “Build Me up Buttercup,” The Foundations. I need you (I need you)/More than anyone, darling/You know that I have from the start/So build me up (Build me up)/Buttercup, don't break my heart. Look it’s fun and it’s dumb and they’re into each other and bad at talking. What more do you need?

4. “You’re My Best Friend,” Queen. Oh, you're the first one/When things turn out bad/You know I'll never be lonely/You're my only one/And I love the things/I really love the things that you do

5. “Nothing Like You and I,” The Perishers. This is the title track to the one (1) date playlist on 8tracks and it’s. So right. I love my boys

6. “Boy Like Me,” New Medicine. Okay yes it’s the Dan of it all, but Nate would be there too? These guys pine so hard because they don’t think the other person could care about them

7. “GUY.exe,” Superfruit—the opposite side of that jealous-gay vibe

8. “I Would,” Lower Than Atlantis. I'm in too deep/Sit alone and think/Of all the stupid things that/I would do to be near you for a minute

9. “Make Out,” Julia Nunes. But I won't let go of you/‘til you push me away/The second you leave/I miss you/I could see you tomorrow/But I don't wanna wait, so

10. “Talk Too Much,” COIN. Honey, come put your lips on mine/And shut me up/We could blame it all on human nature/Stay cool, it's just a kiss

11. “Stray Italian Greyhound,” Vienna Teng. Please not now/I just settled into the glass half empty/Made myself at home/And so why now. I have a lot of thoughts about like… this being a relationship that happens when both of them are pretty fucked, and the fact that there’s this guy, and he makes me happy being, at the least, new

12. “Dog Days Are Over,” Florence + The Machine.

13. “Lucky People,” Waterparks. Let's keep each other safe from the world/I'll be your optimistic black hole/Full of love I can't control

14. “I Wouldn’t Mind,” He Is We. Forever is a long time/But I wouldn't mind spending it by your side/Tell me everyday I'd get to wake up to that smile

15. “Loser,” Julian Moon. Friday night with Chinese food/Wanna take it back/To my place/And play Super Mario Kart again? They are. Best friends

16. “Wouldn’t It Be Nice,” The Beach Boys. It would be nice <3

17. “Friday I’m in Love,” The Cure. To see your shoes and your spirits rise/Throwing out your frown and just smiling at the sound

18. “Parentheses,” The Blow. If something in the deli aisle makes you cry/Of course I'll put my arm around you/And I'll walk you outside/Through the sliding doors/Why would I mind?

19. “Falling In,” Lifehouse. Now don't be scared, it's only love/That we're falling in

20. “What You Do to My Soul,” Air Traffic Controller. We could just lie here on the floor/Take all them pillows and we'll build ourselves a fort/And play until we fall asleep/Inside these walls/Feels like I have got it all

21. “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles),” The Proclaimers. You know.

22. “Sidekick,” WALK THE MOON. Something in the air is giving me bad ideas/Something in the air is giving me dangerous thoughts like:/Why don’t you stay at mine tonight?

23. “Text Me In The Morning,” Neon Trees. So text me in the morning/Tell me you still love me/I don't believe a single word/You tell me you're tipsy/I tell you you're pretty

24. “Hot,” Avril Lavigne. I wanna put your hand in my pocket/Because you're allowed. Tfw you’re stupidly into your bf

25. “Chasing Cars,” Snow Patrol. I don't quite know/How to say/How I feel/Those three words/Are said too much/They're not enough

26. “Keep on Tryin’,” Poco. Oh yes, I keep on tryin'/I'm tired of cryin'/I got to find a way to get on home to you

27. “Be Okay,” Oh Honey. The vibes… they’re good…

28. “You Always Make Me Smile,” Kyle Andrews. I like your messy hair/I like the clothes you wear/I like the way you sing/And when you dance with me

29. “Restless Dream,” Jack’s Mannequin. We are technically talking about a non-canon ship here but it’s fINE

30. “The Bro Duet,” George Salazar, Jason Gotay. Legit the first thing put on this playlist

#dan humphrey #nate archibald #gossip girl #date #dan and nate #original nonsense #this is a playlist tag #*jazz hands* i have too many of these #both the covers are originally from senamarais’s screenshots

[shingyou]

I FUCKING HOPE YOU SPEND EVERY DAY THINKING ABOUT HOW YOUR LIFE HAS BEEN PATHETIC FOR 27 YEARS AND MORE (I hope the guilt eats you alive)

Bitter existence, better transcendence, and a chalice of bloodied gold, chalice of golden blood Wires connect each other, nonsensical, as I walk among the polluted fog I can’t breathe in this air you’ve killed, and one after another, bodies fall with too many eyes watching Our sacrifice, meaningful and senseless, for what have you done to what could have been, greedy lying Propaganda masters circling everyone, where all their made-up sins intersect, lips sewn shut But even without a mouth, I’ll be screaming

SO PUT ME IN A CAGE IF YOU MUST, PUT ME HERE AND PUT ME THERE, YOU’RE NOT GETTING RID OF ME EVEN IN DEATH I SUBSIST, EVEN IN DEATH I DON’T PERISH, ETERNAL GASOLINE BURNING, STUCK IN YOUR THROAT IF YOU SEE ME AS A BURDEN, I’LL MAKE SURE TO BURY YOU, DEFILE YOUR GRAVE, SPIT ON YOUR IMAGE

Spreading ashes beyond white-made borders, a spinless dance to honour those who couldn’t carry on Charred fingers, for no good reason, but I cannot decay, all alone, without the roots you’ve torn apart I can’t see the sun, hidden behind your lack of justice, and slowly, I can feel the greatest collapse We walk still, no matter how desperate you want us to be, like a broken toy who can’t give up any more You’ve beat me so much, low beneath humanity, where your world doesn’t shine, superficial coatings And yet, from everywhere, I’ll be screaming

MY SPIRIT IS GREATER THAN MY BODY, IT BURNS ON AND ON, UNTIL I COMMIT ARSON ON YOUR ABUSIVE THORNS I HOPE YOU GROW TO REGRET YOUR BIRTH, PRAY WHEN I HAUNT YOU, I HOPE YOU FEEL EVEN A TENTH OF MY CURSE ETERNAL GASOLINE BURNING, DOUSED YOUR EYES IN IT, I’LL SHINE SO BRIGHTLY YOU WON’T SEE NOTHING BUT YOUR MISERY

ETERNAL GASOLINE ETERNAL GASOLINE

#writings #écriture #song lyrics #song writing #song #poetry #poems #art #my art #abuse #self-defence #my writing #writing #literature

[i-am-still-bb]

Day 1: power outage OR first meeting

DarkHawk, T

Ao3

--

Jim jumped when the kitchen door slammed open with a blast of arctic wind and swirling snowflakes that were more icy pellets than fluffy, pillowy flakes. Arms full, Ross struggled to kick the door closed until Jim grabbed it with both hands and forced it back into its frame and turned the heavy iron bolt.

“Nippy?” Jim asked conversationally as he helped remove shopping bags from Ross’ arms so that he could set things down and take off his coat.

“Fucking brass monkeys,” Ross swore.

Jim started pulling items from the bags. “How was it?”

“The store or the roads?”

“Yes.”

“A disaster.”

“Which one?”

“Both.” Ross sighed as he hung up his coat, hat, and gloves that had started to drip as the snowflakes melted. He sat down to start prizing chunks of ice from the laces of his boots.

“I’ll take those,” Jim held his hand out for Ross’ boots.

“Thanks.”

Jim deposited the boots next to the fireplace with its shimmering coals—just in case—and returned to putting food away.

“How were they disasters?”

“Hmm?” Ross was stretched out on the chair, long legs in the way, arms crossed across his chest, and eyes closed.

“The store and the roads,” Jim prompted.

“Oh,” Ross groaned as he stretched from curled shoulders to stretched toes before relaxing and opening his eyes. “There must be at least four inches of snow on the ground already and it’s only been two hours.”

“Fuck,” Jim whistled. He peeked out the window over the kitchen sink. It was fogged up and covered in melted droplets. From here it did not look that bad. But he could see the thin layer of snow that had already accumulated on the 4x4. Swiping at his phone screen he pulled up the weather radar. “And it’s only just started.” The wind what whistled as it came around the corner from the field seemed just a little bit more ominous. And Jim was more aware of the leaking around the window; he could almost feel a breeze and he definitely felt the cooler air that always hovered near the windows.

“Yeah. We’ll probably be snowed in for a bit. I wouldn’t be surprised if we lost power.”

“I did notice the lack of perishables.”

“That wasn’t on purpose. There was nothing left. The coolers were empty. The only milk that was left was soy—”

Jim pulled a face.

“—I know, that’s why I didn’t get it, and some flavored coffee creamer.”

“I’d rather use that powdered stuff that we use when camping than use soy milk.”

“Well, there is plenty of the powdered stuff. I’ll just have to fetch it from the shed. Later.”

Just then the power flickered off. They both stared at the light fixture in the silence that only the lack of power could bring, no humming refrigerator, no forced air coming up from the vents. The power came sputtering back on a moment later. It was on just long enough for the oven, the microwave, and other appliances to beep their complaints about the incorrect time before it went out again with a POP.

“Well,” Jim said.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll get the flashlights,” Jim thumbed on his phone’s flashlight.

“I’ll close the curtains, vents, and shut up the rooms we won’t be using,” Ross grumbled, hauling himself to his feet.

“Hey, you know what this means?” Jim asked, a sparkled of mischief on his face.

Ross’ tone was sharp. “What?”

Jim raised his eyebrows. “Don’t be like that. It’s not all bad.” He closed the gap between them and curled an arm around Ross’ waist. He could still feel Ross’ body heat through his thick green sweater.

Ross opened his mouth and started to list the reasons why it was that bad.

Jim made an admonishing noise. He brushed his nose against Ross’ neck. “Everything is going to be closed,” he said softly, forcing Ross to quit his grumbling so he could listen. “No one will be able to visit until the roads are cleared.” A brushed kiss to the hollow spot beneath Ross’ jaw. “No work.” A kiss that lingered on that spot just behind Ross’ ear. “Nothing to do, but lay in bed in front of that fireplace and—”

Ross turned his head to capture the next kiss. He groaned quietly as it stretched on.

When it ended it took him a moment to open his eyes. “We should…” he started to say quietly and without conviction.

“Close everything up? Make sure that we’ve got flashlights and batteries? Enough firewood?” Jim offered cheerfully.

Ross huffed as they separated.

“Necessities first, then this,” Jim gave Ross’ butt a quick squeeze with the hand not holding his phone.

“Tease.”

“You like it!” Jim tossed over his shoulder before he disappeared into the cellar to search for flashlights and anything else they might need for the time being.

#fluffuary2023 #bb writes #darkhawk #darkhawk fic #i've got two fluffuary cards that i'm working from #so i'm just going to pick the prompt that i vibe with the most

[vmfx]

PANDEMIC BLUES (SUMMER).

At the tail end of Spring, I posted Merzbow’s Pulse Demon here on my sister site. I noticed that someone from the New York City / Long Island area liked it and I decided to see who she was.

Hesitation marks. Satanist. Anorexia. Borderline Personality Disorder. Medications. Has an OnlyFans account. Topless Shibari pics- of herself. Too-much-information posts about cream-pies and wanting to fuck some random guy she met who ended up abandoning her to get high with his friends. Wow. For most people, there’s so many red flags waved to say “no” the first time and move on. Amazingly, the t.m.i. - not the self-abuse, Satanism, or BPD - had me say “no”, too, until I found her other page which showed a more leveled side to her. Posts relating to her anxiety and depression issues. The color pink. Cute Japanese cartoon animals, Animal Crossing, and owns animals herself. Her paleness laying on the backyard grass with her long dark flowing hair down her neck and skinny wrists across her purple tee holding her pet rabbit. I re-considered because I empathized and related with some of what she suffered through. It’s May, and if I don’t take it now then I may not have it later. So hand me the dice and let’s fucking roll.

Ruth* posted about doing your 100% in a relationship and I checked it off. A few moments later, she caught me posting something of mine I took from the neighborhood veteran’s park. She messaged me to ask if that’s where I got it from. We finally reached out to each other. Lo and behold…she’s from the very same town I am! In fact, we’ve crossed paths before in that same park on one warm Wednesday before sundown, but we didn’t realize it was each other until after the fact. She’s into darkwave, some noise, the post-punk / d.i.y. aesthetic, noise rock, and introduced me to The Mountain Goats. Overtime she’s disclosed her use of LSD, acid, and getting blackout drunk as coping mechanisms of years-long bullying and social isolation. One story she told me was when she approached Jamie Stewart (Xiu Xiu) after his Brooklyn Bazaar performance and ended up telling him her life story. Fortunately, no heroin. She’s stayed away from it as half of her friends she’s ever known have perished from it. But most importantly as mental health sufferers we also matched on our worlds of hurt, our worries of opening up and having doors shut in our faces, text anxiety, and remembering that last time we felt excited about something.

At times I was on edge because I’d assume the worst if I didn’t get her texts that night or seen her posting and ignoring me. Not so. We kept in close contact. Intense texting during off-days and breaks, in parking lots and even me laying in the emergency room two days before we met. She’d finally disclosed her Satanist practices which her ma’ hated (no animals sacrificed) and her nudes which she feared would lose my approval. No judgment. She didn’t send me any, just a bathroom selfie of her 5’7” Polish-Jewish self with black curly hair, pouty lips, and large-rimmed glasses. The concepts of re-assurance and honesty made me chance it and open up to her that I’d never did with anyone else that quickly…despite her somewhat shy shortcomings. I was feeling euphoric once again. I now had someone I’d fight for. She was unique and could give me most of what I was looking for in a female.

I saw her post occasional suicidal thoughts and had to intervene on sight, taking no chances. But Ruth assured me everything was OK and were just that - thoughts. On a happier note, she lamented on how she missed riding her bicycle because of how nice her butt looks. She got points for that one. The moment she felt sad about not being at the beach, I went for it and asked to take her. “Sure!” she said. Boxcars! To hear her say that made me feel so fucking good. It meant everything to me. With minimal worry, we were on our way in meeting each other soon.

I absorbed the June moment sitting in my backyard against the fence under the trees, the stars, the moon, and the dark blue night skies. Personal tranquility, promise, and hope segued into something good while the nation was burning from all the civil unrest and pandemic restlessness. Violence, protests, and scorching fires were born from George Floyd’s murder by the police. People none more fed up than ever in lockdown lost their jobs and their livelihoods by witnessing the collapse of their favorite pastimes, venues, and restaurants. All the while an enablist president with a lust for dictatorship, hate, and murdering democracy dead was steering this country towards a fascist state to the point of no return.

* * * * * * * * * *

Wednesday’s here. I wake up, I shower, and have a light breakfast. Fresh clothes are ready to be worn. Buzz, brush, and razor. Take the phone out of its case and polish it up. Wash the car and vacuum it because who knows what type of person she is. 3PM came and I got her text. Ruth and her ma’ were in the neighborhood tending to an injured animal. She gave me her address and told me to be there at 4PM. I’m on my way.

It’s a breezy but silvery day. The weather is in a drab mood, but not enough to tarnish my excitement. Ten minutes, three miles, and some narrow wooded roads east later, I arrive at her house - and it’s about to fall apart. The slightest flick of the match would burn it all down. There’s tin statues of mini-animals and mossy bird fountains all over the place to pony up the storybook charm. No sight of her 20 cats, her bunny, or bird. It’s been five minutes waiting for her to come out. Lord knows what she’s doing but it felt special that’s she putting the finishing touches on herself for me. The front door opens and here comes Ruth. I was very happy how she turned out. Green and white-striped tee, a denim overall mini-skirt and torn black hosiery with rainbow specks and black boots. This is the same girl who’s been posting lewds and Japanese schoolgirl uniform shots? You would never ever know it by looking at her. It’s Irma Langenstein with social media accounts and that 2010′s online edge but she’s still got that weirdness. We trade hellos and smiles, got in the car, and rode west on the service road to the south shore through the salt-and-peppered day.

I was so nervous with her that I couldn’t even form a complete sentence. I felt like I owed her an apology for stepping over some personal boundaries in getting privy about feelings and her hedonistic side. The soft-spoken nerd assured me that everything was OK. The more we spoke, the more things smoothed out and relaxed themselves. We slowly drove as she explained to me about her BPD and gradually went into her interests before we arrived at Gardiner Manor Park.

We cut through the wooden trails to reach the shoreline and walked on the sands, walking by the sea ribbons, discarded shells, and old aquatic artifacts. It was where she told me she attended the same university as I and had friends at the radio station. Who does she know? J-Ro. Everyone knows J-Ro. They’ve worked together at the organic supermarket. What did she get him for last year’s Secret Santa? Sacred Bones’ Killed By Deathrock. Wow, she knows what’s up. We backtracked through the woods where she opted for the long way out and worked out because I wanted my money’s worth. She saw me constantly being pinched by the mosquitoes, and kind enough of her to actually care and hose me down with her organic citrus repellent.

We had time after showing each other our SE’s to drive to Argyle Park still under the cool cloudy skies. We circled twice around the large duck pond dodging both the goose smears on the asphalt and people fishing off the elevated walkways, aiming to fill the air with nothing-talk to make up for the awkward silences between us. My mind’s racing, my breathing heavy, and my pace almost couldn’t keep up with this quick little walker. I’m exhausted, she’s exhausted, and so was whatever daylight Wednesday had left. It’s 7PM. Time to drive the mouse home.

One amusing point of our day was while driving back east on Main st. we heard screetching behind us. I look up and there’s a group of people on the sidewalk looking over to see what just happened. In my rear-view I saw an SUV that blew a light penetrated into a parked car. Ruth and I slowed down and looked at each other mortified to our chests. Had we been 5-10 seconds slower, we might’ve been casualties. We still drove north towards her house, up Railroad Ave. and past what used to be the old Vinyl Paradise which was now George’s Vintage Clothing & Records.

I’m with a woman whose Williamsburg-mind would fit more in the city than on the island. Ruth had many friends to rely on in case of shelter and recently celebrated with a close friend who found an apartment in Queens, while she just returned from a winter job in Denver and came home with no car, no job, and no money in the bank. I wasn’t fazed at all. Along the way she’s disclosed to me that she’s had ten straight years of relationships lasting from five months to two years with at most four-month gaps of being single in-between. She’s been undefeated in the break-up department because she gets sick of them. All of them. No reason needed.

We pull up in front of her house. We have our final smiles and say our goodbyes to each other. I see her walk in through the front door and I slowly drive away. I arrive home and came down sad that our day ended. It shouldn’t have. With my luck, a day like this should’ve never happened, but somehow it did. And now I’m wrapping my head around it. I take off my black shirt. The aura of her citrus repellent overlapping mine of basil, black pepper, and cedar on fresh woven cotton lingered on for what would forever burn in my mind of our day together. I had a great time with someone who was on my level and wasn’t like anyone else from the island. That was capped off when I just got a happy positive text from Ruth: she had a great time, and it was nice meeting me.

* * * * * * * * * *

I gave it a few days to see how Ruth was doing. I texted her and asked her if she could go to George’s Vintage- one day with me.

“Sure! I’d love to go!” she exclaimed. So far so good. Then I asked her when she was available. No return text. My attempt to see her again fell on deaf ears. That’s odd. I didn’t want to push it, so I waited a couple of days and asked her again. She did somewhat reply, saying that she couldn’t talk because she had friends over and wasn’t able to make plans. There were times during my lunch break at work where I would shoot her a random text or music video like she had with me before. No response. Something wasn’t right. I had a feeling that things were deteriorating between us.

I saw that she just re-blogged something - about playing on people’s feelings, enticing them for sex and weed before abandoning them and never seeing them again. #that’s totally me! lol, she tagged. Are you kidding me? Is she really serious? Displaying her intentions for all to see about taking people for a ride and leaving them at the curb is all a silly game to her? Absolutely disgusting. I felt it, because this could be something she was setting up for me. The tension was tightening up and pulling away from the center. The metal thick-gauge wire was fraying and was about to snap apart. I said nothing about it to her and rolled the dice again on future plans, hoping she would snap out of it. I texted her if Thursday or Friday was good. She replied and said that she couldn’t. She had other plans to celebrate a couple of birthdays in with her family. I wasn’t going to hustle it, and with respect I told her to have fun and have a good time.

That week, New York State announced that all restaurants would re-open providing safety measures were implemented. I had no work that Thursday. I was craving for Japanese food after three months of total closures across the board. I went to Commack to sit down and chow down as much as I could for a couple of hours. I tried out half of everything they offered on the menu. All the red tuna and salmon sushi rolls, sashimi, miso soup, dumplings, fried rice, noodles with peanut sauce, and lychees I could possibly eat to the point of almost passing out. I tapped out and asked for the bill, paid my way out and left the restaurant almost unable to walk to my car. I got home and took a two-hour nap to relieve the food coma I was suffering from. It’s 6PM. The gym was still under lock-down and I felt like I didn’t accomplish enough for the day. Off to the neighborhood park I go.

My visit started like any other. Arrive with my SE in hand with my headphones and start walking around. Dark sounds of grimy, electric dancehall were in my ears as I minded my own business and wandered around the crooked wooden pathways. A group of people caught my peripherals during my travels. I look to my left to see a group of three people and…Ruth? She recognized me and waved hello in my direction. Such a…surprise to…see her? My mind knew something was wrong and couldn’t help to ask why she wasn’t with her family. That was my first instinct.

“Hey, Ruth…weren’t you supposed to be with your family?” I asked. “Yeah, but we’re taking a different shortcut through the park to meet our other friends!” she smiled. I took a pounding one-two punch. I was baffled when two and three equaled zero and nothing added up right. I saved face and said goodbye to her and the two others she was with.

“It was nice meeting you!” said one of her friends as I walked away from them; a verbal smack in the face disguised as a sweet, pleasant manner. I left the park feeling disposed and thrown out. What a dirty low-down tactic for someone to blatantly lie to me and smile in my face like I was nothing. Never had I felt so dejected and disgusted with anyone. She turned into a totally different person, othello-ing me in only a week’s time. There was nothing I could do except to sit.

She purposely stayed off for a few days until after the 4th of July weekend because she knew I wanted to make plans with her. Now here’s a new update on her leveled blog: blow-job posts and golden showers are her new fetish. Great to know. I asked myself why we’re still following each other. I had to get out of there and cut my losses before I discovered other things about her I didn’t ask for. At this point I don’t even know who she was anymore, so I unfollowed her. Ruth, being self-conscious of people leaving her, saw it. She finished the job and unfollowed me in return with the quickness. Snake eyes. Money’s over. Good-bye and good riddance to each other.

How did I fuck this one up? It could’ve been our shaky nervous start, the age difference, my openness, or pushing the accommodations too hard. But she didn’t tell me. Why would she? It’s more fun to keep people dazed in circles guessing. The games and deceit, careless abandon, moments that would never be, losses accruing, and what was once OK now non-acceptable made the hurt-avalanche come down hard. My anxiety, depression, and loneliness returned with it. If there was one moment in life that I was right the first time, it’s this one. Kevin Parker said it best: “the less I know, the better”. Had I stuck to my guns before, then none of this would’ve happened. But no. Common sense flew right out the window because Summer was at stake. It came down to risk versus reward and I lost.

Days after the fact and my mind was keeping itself busy over-calculating and over-thinking what hurt the most. I still couldn’t get her out of my head. Envisioning her getting shaken and rocked by some other luckier undeserving guy. What in Christ’s name she’s posting on her money accounts kept me up at night because I went out of business and who knows above what I’ve done to have it all collapse. The intense flares in my mind lit vividly and radiantly thinking of what I could’ve had with her and lost.

Before we met, I read the risks as much as I could and did my 100% to support her. I got all the difficult questions out of the way about her kinks, drug use, and t.m.i. because I wasn’t going to revisit another life-changing personal collapse like what happened before: the Brooklyn goth girl who gave me my latest heartbreak that forever changed me for the worse. Since then, I pay an even heavier price for strikes and losses these days which, adjusted to inflation, I’m still struggling to pay off. This time, I took everything I saw at face value instead of ignoring the ugly truths shielded by the beautiful lies. I already knew at first sight, so why pretend to be naive and ignore the cards on the table? Because I asked, my situation with Ruth didn’t hit hard as before. Yet, I underestimated how severe her instability was and that’s why I’d never thought it’d backfire that quickly. Did she intend on turning against me all along? Did she know what she was doing? Am I right to feel hurt and upset as I should? How fucked up was it that what we both suffered through were the very same things she ultimately used against me? Does she really hate me that much? Can I blame her? It may be her mental duress that already made her feel sick of me like the other men she’s been with, but what’s the difference? Sufferers do what they do with no apologies like non-sufferers do, just like Satanists need little or even no reason at all to go for the kill as much as non-Satanists who are as naturally heartless when they tell others to fuck off; compacting the sting of being suddenly tossed aside so quickly like an option while I’ve made them a priority.

My anxiety / depression drove its fangs deeper into my skin and almost right to the bone. The venom induces black spots, obscura, cataracts, and tinnitus. Illusions, juxtapositions, and reversed images. Everything made me lose focus on myself and the beauty in things I’m after. It’s scrambled the ideas that gave me value in myself and separate myself from the others. I couldn’t see and experience things others were enjoying because my mind was on overdrive, scrambling to find answers or imagining all the relentless regret, false constructs, failures, catch-22’s, contradictions, double standards, and fear of being left behind. My memory was failing on me because my mind was burnt out on fighting these intense obstacles that clouded my vision.

Anxiety / depression and BPD are such demons; always behind the controls to make one raging hot or on total shutdown. No matter how hard I shake them off, they never let go. Look around in this dystopian America I live in; the three-ring circus politics, the constant barrage of lies and defeatist news producing ubiquitous toxicity. The self-demoralization and -devaluation from friends, family, and co-workers. Social media, dating-site pitfalls, repetition re-enforcement, the quarantine and isolation have all lowered human emotional morale. I’ve come to realize that my lifetime threshold of tolerance for drama, rudeness, and being taken advantage of has way exceeded its limits. I’m sick and tired of being disappointed, mistreated, and broken. But as I learned dealing with mental illness, it’s out of my hands. There’s no end to it in sight. Not where I’m from.

I’ve seen a huge push for mental health awareness along with a growing urgency for it to be more inclusive and less ostracized in society’s eyes. Unlike my dad who used to attack everything that moved, I confided to my surviving family who listened with welcoming ears. Friends whom I can count on one hand stopped and took the time to listen to me unconditionally. Followers of mine opened themselves up to me about their emotional struggles and that support went both ways. Everyone else who saw me down on my luck picked me up with no judgment because I chose the right ones. (Save for my general manager who seemed concerned about my well-being but was really interested in how far I gotten with her.) Some of them warned me to issue common sense next time and to stop at red flags instead of speeding past them - doing so to see the good in people would certainly cost me later.

Knowing me, I would’ve kept going because she was more than I had: nothing. There are nights I still think of her and sympathize with her hellish struggles. We should’ve been supporting and sympathizing. Instead, we despise each other. We have our own reasons. I can’t ignore the fact that she acted spitefully. I’ve been hurt way too many times but she didn’t see it, and those effects still linger to this day. Sadly, in Long Island’s disposable world of dating and meeting people, it’s all or nothing. No in-between, no gray area, no room for error, no negotiations. Once it’s over, it’s over. And after all that happened, I don’t regret meeting her. Not one bit.

* * * * * * * * * *

Every evening after my workout session, I sit by the lakeside for peace of mind and meditation. Come 6-7PM I’ll watch families, couples, and groups of friends stroll along the decks and sandy shorelines under the setting sun behind the trees. The bright yellow sunbeam streams are blocked by the trees surrounding the water all around as the horizon turns different dim shades of gray, orange, turquoise, and dark blue morphing by the goodbye sun; peeling back all shades of light to reveal the moon hanging overhead. A car full of young teens pull into the parking lot behind the lake with The Weeknd’s “Blinding Lights” blaring, the new Summer hit sensation. The daily treks through my neighborhood to the trails with an iPhone full of post-punk and d.i.y. grasping the aesthetic are over. I can never return. What a waste that I can’t enjoy myself in the very town that I live in, that is, unless I want to chance re-opening new wounds and enjoy feeling sick to my stomach, running into friends-turned-strangers who threw me away.

It’s 2AM Monday morning. I’m in my own spacious backward sitting on the fresh cut grass away from the swimming pool. The full moon smiles down on me as it chases Saturn and Jupiter. Faint trails of clouds suspend themselves against the clear hazy milky skies. I hear the rushes of vehicles riding down the highway that’s 300 feet away from my home but the streams and perpetual frequencies of chirping crickets are closer proximity and priority. 

And now, tonight's news: the Brazilian woman from the radio station is out vacationing on a yacht with her new boyfriend who's all smiles and they're having the time of their lives. A goth-girl acquaintance is raving about her new b.f. and how she's screaming up and down the block telling everyone how much of a great guy he is. The ginger with the burning red hair, big brown eyes, and freckles just put up pics- of her boyfriend whose arms are wrapped around her with this hot-shit look on his face. Meanwhile, I'm sitting here feeling worthless while all of this is going on as the world keeps rotating without my input. Charli XCX & Sky Ferreira’s “Cross You Out” and Grime’s “Violence” run burning hot and full of euphoric energy from my iPhone right to my head. In A Dramatic Gesture’s “Basic Aerobic” plays right after, a track that took me back to when I had more promise between us. 

 But any time I think of how left-field The Mountain Goats sounded, it’ll remind me of her. I have forever quit them. Now those sounds are tainted by bad experiences, cruelties, and large pills hard to swallow. What a disgrace that it’s summer and there’s no one to share any moments with. No one to stay up with at night to talk about favorite music artists, the state of consciousness and well-being, or prying my mind wide open and say what I’m thinking or feeling - without repercussions or feeling demonized and vilified.

Who knows where she is or what she’s up to. Is she sleeping her precious daylight away? Did she find another guy to share her next drug journey with, or what sexual acts is he putting herself through now that she’s ready to go? All I know is she’s having a winning Summer. I'm not.

#personal #Long Island #dating #Charli XCX #Sky Ferreira #Grimes #The Weeknd #mental health

[omegaplus]

# 4,098

Pandemic Blues (Summer).

At the tail end of Spring, I posted Merzbow’s Pulse Demon here on my sister site. I noticed that someone from the New York City / Long Island area liked it and I decided to see who she was.

Hesitation marks. Satanist. Anorexia. Borderline Personality Disorder. Medications. Has an OnlyFans account. Topless Shibari pics- of herself. Too-much-information posts about cream-pies and wanting to fuck some random guy she met who ended up abandoning her to get high with his friends. Wow. For most people, there’s so many red flags waved to say “no” the first time and move on. Amazingly, the t.m.i. - not the self-abuse, Satanism, or BPD - had me say “no”, too, until I found her other page which showed a more leveled side to her. Posts relating to her anxiety and depression issues. The color pink. Cute Japanese cartoon animals, Animal Crossing, and owns animals herself. Her paleness laying on the backyard grass with her long dark flowing hair down her neck and skinny wrists across her purple tee holding her pet rabbit. I re-considered because I empathized and related with some of what she suffered through. It’s May, and if I don’t take it now then I may not have it later. So hand me the dice and let’s fucking roll.

Ruth* posted about doing your 100% in a relationship and I checked it off. A few moments later, she caught me posting something of mine I took from the neighborhood veteran’s park. She messaged me to ask if that’s where I got it from. We finally reached out to each other. Lo and behold…she’s from the very same town I am! In fact, we’ve crossed paths before in that same park on one warm Wednesday before sundown, but we didn’t realize it was each other until after the fact. She’s into darkwave, some noise, the post-punk / d.i.y. aesthetic, noise rock, and introduced me to The Mountain Goats. Overtime she’s disclosed her use of LSD, acid, and getting blackout drunk as coping mechanisms of years-long bullying and social isolation. One story she told me was when she approached Jamie Stewart (Xiu Xiu) after his Brooklyn Bazaar performance and ended up telling him her life story. Fortunately, no heroin. She’s stayed away from it as half of her friends she’s ever known have perished from it. But most importantly as mental health sufferers we also matched on our worlds of hurt, our worries of opening up and having doors shut in our faces, text anxiety, and remembering that last time we felt excited about something.

At times I was on edge because I’d assume the worst if I didn’t get her texts that night or seen her posting and ignoring me. Not so. We kept in close contact. Intense texting during off-days and breaks, in parking lots and even me laying in the emergency room two days before we met. She’d finally disclosed her Satanist practices which her ma’ hated (no animals sacrificed) and her nudes which she feared would lose my approval. No judgment. She didn’t send me any, just a bathroom selfie of her 5’7” Polish-Jewish self with black curly hair, pouty lips, and large-rimmed glasses. The concepts of re-assurance and honesty made me chance it and open up to her that I’d never did with anyone else that quickly…despite her somewhat shy shortcomings. I was feeling euphoric once again. I now had someone I’d fight for. She was unique and could give me most of what I was looking for in a female.

I saw her post occasional suicidal thoughts and had to intervene on sight, taking no chances. But Ruth assured me everything was OK and were just that - thoughts. On a happier note, she lamented on how she missed riding her bicycle because of how nice her butt looks. She got points for that one. The moment she felt sad about not being at the beach, I went for it and asked to take her. “Sure!” she said. Boxcars! To hear her say that made me feel so fucking good. It meant everything to me. With minimal worry, we were on our way in meeting each other soon.

I absorbed the June moment sitting in my backyard against the fence under the trees, the stars, the moon, and the dark blue night skies. Personal tranquility, promise, and hope segued into something good while the nation was burning from all the civil unrest and pandemic restlessness. Violence, protests, and scorching fires were born from George Floyd’s murder by the police. People none more fed up than ever in lockdown lost their jobs and their livelihoods by witnessing the collapse of their favorite pastimes, venues, and restaurants. All the while an enablist president with a lust for dictatorship, hate, and murdering democracy dead was steering this country towards a fascist state to the point of no return.

* * * * * * * * * *

Wednesday’s here. I wake up, I shower, and have a light breakfast. Fresh clothes are ready to be worn. Buzz, brush, and razor. Take the phone out of its case and polish it up. Wash the car and vacuum it because who knows what type of person she is. 3PM came and I got her text. Ruth and her ma’ were in the neighborhood tending to an injured animal. She gave me her address and told me to be there at 4PM. I’m on my way.

It’s a breezy but silvery day. The weather is in a drab mood, but not enough to tarnish my excitement. Ten minutes, three miles, and some narrow wooded roads east later, I arrive at her house - and it’s about to fall apart. The slightest flick of the match would burn it all down. There’s tin statues of mini-animals and mossy bird fountains all over the place to pony up the storybook charm. No sight of her 20 cats, her bunny, or bird. It’s been five minutes waiting for her to come out. Lord knows what she’s doing but it felt special that’s she putting the finishing touches on herself for me. The front door opens and here comes Ruth. I was very happy how she turned out. Green and white-striped tee, a denim overall mini-skirt and torn black hosiery with rainbow specks and black boots. This is the same girl who’s been posting lewds and Japanese schoolgirl uniform shots? You would never ever know it by looking at her. It’s Irma Langenstein with social media accounts and that 2010′s online edge but she’s still got that weirdness. We trade hellos and smiles, got in the car, and rode west on the service road to the south shore through the salt-and-peppered day.

I was so nervous with her that I couldn’t even form a complete sentence. I felt like I owed her an apology for stepping over some personal boundaries in getting privy about feelings and her hedonistic side. The soft-spoken nerd assured me that everything was OK. The more we spoke, the more things smoothed out and relaxed themselves. We slowly drove as she explained to me about her BPD and gradually went into her interests before we arrived at Gardiner Manor Park.

We cut through the wooden trails to reach the shoreline and walked on the sands, walking by the sea ribbons, discarded shells, and old aquatic artifacts. It was where she told me she attended the same university as I and had friends at the radio station. Who does she know? J-Ro. Everyone knows J-Ro. They’ve worked together at the organic supermarket. What did she get him for last year’s Secret Santa? Sacred Bones’ Killed By Deathrock. Wow, she knows what’s up. We backtracked through the woods where she opted for the long way out and worked out because I wanted my money’s worth. She saw me constantly being pinched by the mosquitoes, and kind enough of her to actually care and hose me down with her organic citrus repellent.

We had time after showing each other our SE’s to drive to Argyle Park still under the cool cloudy skies. We circled twice around the large duck pond dodging both the goose smears on the asphalt and people fishing off the elevated walkways, aiming to fill the air with nothing-talk to make up for the awkward silences between us. My mind’s racing, my breathing heavy, and my pace almost couldn’t keep up with this quick little walker. I’m exhausted, she’s exhausted, and so was whatever daylight Wednesday had left. It’s 7PM. Time to drive the mouse home.

One amusing point of our day was while driving back east on Main st. we heard screetching behind us. I look up and there’s a group of people on the sidewalk looking over to see what just happened. In my rear-view I saw an SUV that blew a light penetrated into a parked car. Ruth and I slowed down and looked at each other mortified to our chests. Had we been 5-10 seconds slower, we might’ve been casualties. We still drove north towards her house, up Railroad Ave. and past what used to be the old Vinyl Paradise which was now George’s Vintage Clothing & Records.

I’m with a woman whose Williamsburg-mind would fit more in the city than on the island. Ruth had many friends to rely on in case of shelter and recently celebrated with a close friend who found an apartment in Queens, while she just returned from a winter job in Denver and came home with no car, no job, and no money in the bank. I wasn’t fazed at all. Along the way she’s disclosed to me that she’s had ten straight years of relationships lasting from five months to two years with at most four-month gaps of being single in-between. She’s been undefeated in the break-up department because she gets sick of them. All of them. No reason needed.

We pull up in front of her house. We have our final smiles and say our goodbyes to each other. I see her walk in through the front door and I slowly drive away. I arrive home and came down sad that our day ended. It shouldn’t have. With my luck, a day like this should’ve never happened, but somehow it did. And now I’m wrapping my head around it. I take off my black shirt. The aura of her citrus repellent overlapping mine of basil, black pepper, and cedar on fresh woven cotton lingered on for what would forever burn in my mind of our day together. I had a great time with someone who was on my level and wasn’t like anyone else from the island. That was capped off when I just got a happy positive text from Ruth: she had a great time, and it was nice meeting me.

* * * * * * * * * *

I gave it a few days to see how Ruth was doing. I texted her and asked her if she could go to George’s Vintage- one day with me.

“Sure! I’d love to go!” she exclaimed. So far so good. Then I asked her when she was available. No return text. My attempt to see her again fell on deaf ears. That’s odd. I didn’t want to push it, so I waited a couple of days and asked her again. She did somewhat reply, saying that she couldn’t talk because she had friends over and wasn’t able to make plans. There were times during my lunch break at work where I would shoot her a random text or music video like she had with me before. No response. Something wasn’t right. I had a feeling that things were deteriorating between us.

I saw that she just re-blogged something - about playing on people’s feelings, enticing them for sex and weed before abandoning them and never seeing them again. #that’s totally me! lol, she tagged. Are you kidding me? Is she really serious? Displaying her intentions for all to see about taking people for a ride and leaving them at the curb is all a silly game to her? Absolutely disgusting. I felt it, because this could be something she was setting up for me. The tension was tightening up and pulling away from the center. The metal thick-gauge wire was fraying and was about to snap apart. I said nothing about it to her and rolled the dice again on future plans, hoping she would snap out of it. I texted her if Thursday or Friday was good. She replied and said that she couldn’t. She had other plans to celebrate a couple of birthdays in with her family. I wasn’t going to hustle it, and with respect I told her to have fun and have a good time.

That week, New York State announced that all restaurants would re-open providing safety measures were implemented. I had no work that Thursday. I was craving for Japanese food after three months of total closures across the board. I went to Commack to sit down and chow down as much as I could for a couple of hours. I tried out half of everything they offered on the menu. All the red tuna and salmon sushi rolls, sashimi, miso soup, dumplings, fried rice, noodles with peanut sauce, and lychees I could possibly eat to the point of almost passing out. I tapped out and asked for the bill, paid my way out and left the restaurant almost unable to walk to my car. I got home and took a two-hour nap to relieve the food coma I was suffering from. It’s 6PM. The gym was still under lock-down and I felt like I didn’t accomplish enough for the day. Off to the neighborhood park I go.

My visit started like any other. Arrive with my SE in hand with my headphones and start walking around. Dark sounds of grimy, electric dancehall were in my ears as I minded my own business and wandered around the crooked wooden pathways. A group of people caught my peripherals during my travels. I look to my left to see a group of three people and…Ruth? She recognized me and waved hello in my direction. Such a…surprise to…see her? My mind knew something was wrong and couldn’t help to ask why she wasn’t with her family. That was my first instinct.

“Hey, Ruth…weren’t you supposed to be with your family?” I asked. “Yeah, but we’re taking a different shortcut through the park to meet our other friends!” she smiled. I took a pounding one-two punch. I was baffled when two and three equaled zero and nothing added up right. I saved face and said goodbye to her and the two others she was with.

“It was nice meeting you!” said one of her friends as I walked away from them; a verbal smack in the face disguised as a sweet, pleasant manner. I left the park feeling disposed and thrown out. What a dirty low-down tactic for someone to blatantly lie to me and smile in my face like I was nothing. Never had I felt so dejected and disgusted with anyone. She turned into a totally different person, othello-ing me in only a week’s time. There was nothing I could do except to sit.

She purposely stayed off for a few days until after the 4th of July weekend because she knew I wanted to make plans with her. Now here’s a new update on her leveled blog: blow-job posts and golden showers are her new fetish. Great to know. I asked myself why we’re still following each other. I had to get out of there and cut my losses before I discovered other things about her I didn’t ask for. At this point I don’t even know who she was anymore, so I unfollowed her. Ruth, being self-conscious of people leaving her, saw it. She finished the job and unfollowed me in return with the quickness. Snake eyes. Money’s over. Good-bye and good riddance to each other.

How did I fuck this one up? It could’ve been our shaky nervous start, the age difference, my openness, or pushing the accommodations too hard. But she didn’t tell me. Why would she? It’s more fun to keep people dazed in circles guessing. The games and deceit, careless abandon, moments that would never be, losses accruing, and what was once OK now non-acceptable made the hurt-avalanche come down hard. My anxiety, depression, and loneliness returned with it. If there was one moment in life that I was right the first time, it’s this one. Kevin Parker said it best: “the less I know, the better”. Had I stuck to my guns before, then none of this would’ve happened. But no. Common sense flew right out the window because Summer was at stake. It came down to risk versus reward and I lost.

Days after the fact and my mind was keeping itself busy over-calculating and over-thinking what hurt the most. I still couldn’t get her out of my head. Envisioning her getting shaken and rocked by some other luckier undeserving guy. What in Christ’s name she’s posting on her money accounts kept me up at night because I went out of business and who knows above what I’ve done to have it all collapse. The intense flares in my mind lit vividly and radiantly thinking of what I could’ve had with her and lost.

Before we met, I read the risks as much as I could and did my 100% to support her. I got all the difficult questions out of the way about her kinks, drug use, and t.m.i. because I wasn’t going to revisit another life-changing personal collapse like what happened before: the Brooklyn goth girl who gave me my latest heartbreak that forever changed me for the worse. Since then, I pay an even heavier price for strikes and losses these days which, adjusted to inflation, I’m still struggling to pay off. This time, I took everything I saw at face value instead of ignoring the ugly truths shielded by the beautiful lies. I already knew at first sight, so why pretend to be naive and ignore the cards on the table? Because I asked, my situation with Ruth didn’t hit hard as before. Yet, I underestimated how severe her instability was and that’s why I’d never thought it’d backfire that quickly. Did she intend on turning against me all along? Did she know what she was doing? Am I right to feel hurt and upset as I should? How fucked up was it that what we both suffered through were the very same things she ultimately used against me? Does she really hate me that much? Can I blame her? It may be her mental duress that already made her feel sick of me like the other men she’s been with, but what’s the difference? Sufferers do what they do with no apologies like non-sufferers do, just like Satanists need little or even no reason at all to go for the kill as much as non-Satanists who are as naturally heartless when they tell others to fuck off; compacting the sting of being suddenly tossed aside so quickly like an option while I’ve made them a priority.

My anxiety / depression drove its fangs deeper into my skin and almost right to the bone. The venom induces black spots, obscura, cataracts, and tinnitus. Illusions, juxtapositions, and reversed images. Everything made me lose focus on myself and the beauty in things I’m after. It’s scrambled the ideas that gave me value in myself and separate myself from the others. I couldn’t see and experience things others were enjoying because my mind was on overdrive, scrambling to find answers or imagining all the relentless regret, false constructs, failures, catch-22’s, contradictions, double standards, and fear of being left behind. My memory was failing on me because my mind was burnt out on fighting these intense obstacles that clouded my vision.

Anxiety / depression and BPD are such demons; always behind the controls to make one raging hot or on total shutdown. No matter how hard I shake them off, they never let go. Look around in this dystopian America I live in; the three-ring circus politics, the constant barrage of lies and defeatist news producing ubiquitous toxicity. The self-demoralization and -devaluation from friends, family, and co-workers. Social media, dating-site pitfalls, repetition re-enforcement, the quarantine and isolation have all lowered human emotional morale. I’ve come to realize that my lifetime threshold of tolerance for drama, rudeness, and being taken advantage of has way exceeded its limits. I’m sick and tired of being disappointed, mistreated, and broken. But as I learned dealing with mental illness, it’s out of my hands. There’s no end to it in sight. Not where I’m from.

I’ve seen a huge push for mental health awareness along with a growing urgency for it to be more inclusive and less ostracized in society’s eyes. Unlike my dad who used to attack everything that moved, I confided to my surviving family who listened with welcoming ears. Friends whom I can count on one hand stopped and took the time to listen to me unconditionally. Followers of mine opened themselves up to me about their emotional struggles and that support went both ways. Everyone else who saw me down on my luck picked me up with no judgment because I chose the right ones. (Save for my general manager who seemed concerned about my well-being but was really interested in how far I gotten with her.) Some of them warned me to issue common sense next time and to stop at red flags instead of speeding past them - doing so to see the good in people would certainly cost me later.

Knowing me, I would’ve kept going because she was more than I had: nothing. There are nights I still think of her and sympathize with her hellish struggles. We should’ve been supporting and sympathizing. Instead, we despise each other. We have our own reasons. I can’t ignore the fact that she acted spitefully. I’ve been hurt way too many times but she didn’t see it, and those effects still linger to this day. Sadly, in Long Island’s disposable world of dating and meeting people, it’s all or nothing. No in-between, no gray area, no negotiations. Once it’s over, it’s over. And after all that happened, I don’t regret meeting her. Not one bit.

* * * * * * * * * *

Every evening after my workout session, I sit by the lakeside for peace of mind and meditation. Come 6-7PM I’ll watch families, couples, and groups of friends stroll along the decks and sandy shorelines under the setting sun behind the trees. The bright yellow sunbeam streams are blocked by the trees surrounding the water all around as the horizon turns different dim shades of gray, orange, turquoise, and dark blue morphing by the goodbye sun; peeling back all shades of light to reveal the moon hanging overhead. A car full of young teens pull into the parking lot behind the lake with The Weeknd’s “Blinding Lights” blaring, the new Summer hit sensation. The daily treks through my neighborhood to the trails with an iPhone full of post-punk and d.i.y. grasping the aesthetic are over. I can never return. What a waste that I can’t enjoy myself in the very town that I live in, that is, unless I want to re-open new wounds and enjoy feeling sick to my stomach running into friends-turned-strangers who threw me away.

It's 2AM Monday morning. I’m in my own spacious backward sitting on the fresh cut grass away from the swimming pool. The full moon smiles down on me as it chases Saturn and Jupiter. Faint trails of clouds suspend themselves against the clear hazy milky skies. I hear the rushes of vehicles riding down the highway that’s 300 feet away from my home but the streams and perpetual frequencies of chirping crickets are closer proximity and priority. Charli XCX & Sky Ferreira’s “Cross You Out” and Grime’s “Violence” run burning hot and full of euphoric energy from my iPhone right to my head. In A Dramatic Gesture’s “Basic Aerobic” plays right after, a track that took me back to when I had more promise between us. But any time I think of how left-field The Mountain Goats sounded, it’ll remind me of her. I have forever quit them. Now those sounds are tainted by bad experiences, cruelties, and large pills hard to swallow. What a disgrace that it’s summer and there’s no one to share any moments with. No one to stay up with at night to talk about favorite music artists, the state of consciousness and well-being, or prying my mind wide open and say what I’m thinking or feeling - without repercussions or feeling demonized and vilified.

Who knows where she is or what she’s up to. Is she sleeping her precious daylight away? Did she find another guy to share her next drug journey with, or what sexual acts is he putting herself through? All I know is she’s having a winning Summer. I won’t.

Chasms: “Tears In The Morning Sun”

Zunz: “Four Women And Darkness”

Snarls: “What’s It Take”

Girl In Red: “Rushed Lovers”

DJ 3D: “How Many Ways” (Refreshers RMX)

Tops: “Seven Minutes”

Widowspeak: “Breadwinner”

Ripple: “Victorious”

Jade Imagine: “Big Old House”

Space Above: “Stolen Days”

Tempers: “Capital Pains”

Grimes & i_O: “Violence”

Weeknd, The: “Blinding Lights”

Charli XCX & Sky Ferreira: “Cross You Out”

RVG: “I Used To Love You”

Wye Oak: “Fortune”

Eddie Russ: “Zaius”

Progeny: “Wet Dreams”

Low Key Crush: “Shelter”

Cigarettes After Sex: “Young And Dumb”

Pink Gloves: “Wilderness”

Serfs, The: “Persona Non Grata”

Emma Ruth Rundle: “The Light Song”

Chvrches: “Forever”

Hit Parade, The: “Harvey”

Parrot Dream: “The Best”

Mr. Elevator: “Down”

Empathy Test: “Monsters”

In A Dramatic Gesture: “Basic Aerobic”

Masta Ace & Marco Polo ft. Smif N’ Wesson: “Breukelen Brooklyn”

Jade Imagine: “Remote Control”

Parlor Walls: “Lunchbox”

Look Blue Go Purple: “Grace”

Mountain Goats, The: various songs

#pop #folk #indie #synthpop #hip-hop #rap #psych #post-punk #d.i.y. #jazz #fusion #electronic #shoegaze #omega #Long Island #personal #mixtapes #music #reviews #playlists

[goreygonk]

✄ Nights with Nibbles.

⁣    soft tw: sad themes, mental breakdown, thoughts of being unalive. i hardly ever write little blibble snips like these so it might be a little rough, i’m still trying to rewire the rp brain!!

⁣    ⁣    ⁣    ⁣      ⁣    ⁣    ⁣    ✄

At the sink in her bathroom, V washed the grime of the day off her hands. Dry blood frosted her knuckles, until perishing under the faucet. She winced at the smarting and aching in her fingers, from her weary bones that clearly took a beating in the day. The pressure and restlessness of each unforgiving moment was evident in the dark circles under her eyes, and the far-off gaze she shared with the mirror. Maybe someone else was there, looking back at her.

Nights in Night City were what they were meant to be, and in a far-off distance, V enjoyed that. Or, she used to. Lately, she’s felt more like the husk of a puppet she was doomed to become, than the lively fool she was before wandering into this demise. It wasn’t something she could think too often about, but without her pesky brain-worm’s unsolicited remarks or reappearances, the gloom was proving to be particularly persistent. Where was that guy, anyway? It always seemed like he held such a short leash when she grasped at freedom, but in an instance of vulnerable submission, he was all but gone.

A long time was spent at that sink, staring back at her reflection; her chin started to quiver and the crease in her forehead gradually deepened from the weight of her brow. Dry and busted knuckles went white from how tightly she absent-mindedly gripped the counter, her mind churning.

⁣    “Prrr, meow,” a familiar, beloved chime called for V, from the pillows on the couch. Nibbles perked up out of the fort he had made for himself, and stretched. Up in an arch with his back, toes spread and claws in the cushion. Another trill from the naked cat greeted V as he sat at the end of the couch.

⁣    “Heh’, hey, Nibby,” V rasped, feigning a smile and the upward charm in her tone. She was promptly ripped out of the spiral she had set a course for. Nibbles was one of the better parts of waking up and trying to survive every day. Sometimes it was only Nibbles who got her to roll out of bed - not the annoying start of an engram, surprisingly - and while she’d never say that to Johnny, she probably didn’t have to. 

V shimmied her jacket off and tossed it to the opposite side of the couch from Nibbles, so she could lounge comfortably with her feline friend in the cropped tee and strappy pants she’d worn throughout the day. She kind of smelled, definitely needed a shower, but there was no energy for anything else but this.

⁣    “ ‘Nother tough one,” she sighed woefully, slumping into the furniture. Nibbles kept his eyes fixed on her while she rounded him, and offered a couple slow blinks, which gave V a subtle chuckle. “You’re cute.” Silence followed and filled between them.

⁣    “I just don’t get it sometimes-, what it is I’m doing,” V mused and shrugged. Her eyes had drawn down to her hands that laid loosely in her lap, picking at her cuticles, while she mulled. “Feels like I’m risking and putting out so many lives for one I’m not sure I even want. Not sure I really have anything to live for anymore, anyways.” She thought back to Jackie and her brother, both of which brimmed her life with light, who were so easily snuffed out, and neither of which she could save. To that, Nibbles chirped back, like he had taken offense. “Well, except you, of course. . . But I mean, shit. Look at this, Nibs-!” V swiveled toward the cat and put up one of her hands, making a fist to better show the reddish-brown stain in her skin, over her bruising joints. “This ain’t even my blood.”

After a short beat, Nibbles headbutted and rubbed his cheek against her raised fist, coaxing a long frown to droop V’s face. Her eyes stung with full, hazy tears, refusing the blink that would send them running. “Fuck,” she hissed and turned away, squeezing her eyes shut. It burned. Despite Nibbles becoming that anchor and security for any emotional outlet, she still felt she needed to censor and shield her tears away from him. It was anger that made her push away.

Moments like these were lost at the walls built up to stay unmoved by the heartache and loss that followed this path. V reminisced on the time at Clouds, with the doll that so effortlessly drew out the entrails of her thoughts, which she worked so hard to bury beneath her hard exterior. Coming from years of experience, layering the trauma with the drinking, and the drugs, and the fucking, and the killing, and the mindlessness. V was destined for failure.

“I dunno’ what to do,” V sobbed into the crook of her arm and sniffled grossly. “What do I fucking do?!” She barked and shook, looking up expectantly, waiting for him to answer - but there was no answer. It blinded V, reason was just beyond her reach; she toppled over on the couch, on her side, and hugged her knees to her chest. Pathetic and wet whimpers were muffled when she lifted her shirt to wipe her face with it.

Nibbles took the fetal position as an invitation for reprieve. He walked up over V’s thigh, then her hip, down the side facing up, and paused on her shoulder. She hardly paid him any mind until he started pawing at the loose hairs dancing over her pink cheek, blistered with frustration and tears. V quieted the indulgence of her self-pity to look up at him, hiccuping instead of even breaths. She couldn’t help but stare at the vision of him peering down at her, his loose skin wrinkling and folding around his neck from this angle.

⁣    “Gonk,” she called him with much endearment, and patted his small head. Nibbles dropped down between her arms and curled up there, shoving his head against her chest and up under her chin. V immediately, near desperately, clung to that kitty and held him close. Her face tilted down and nestled into the curve of his side, against his belly, and prayed she wouldn’t be met with claws. Instead, Nibbles gave her forehead a few coarse kisses - some of her hair getting caught in the barbed pad of his tongue and making him fight to get rid of it, shaking his head - and settled down around her cranium. 

Though it was unlike most nights, they would fall asleep together all the same.

⁣    ⁣    ⁣    ⁣ ⁣    ⁣    ⁣    ⁣    ✄

in case it’s easier to read in a goodoc

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk #writing #snippet #cyberpunk nibbles #A dribble drabble #v oc: ode gorey #female v #cyberpunk v #long post

[zaenight]

wanheda commander of death act 3 ch4

Slight trigger warning?

"Ok that means either your a dumbass and read the map wrong , or its seriously outdated." Kirby said to carver as Cordelia nodded , her husband looked offended when she agreed with that.

"I did not read it wrong and do you seriously think pope would give us an outdated map , the only reason to - shit." Carver and cordelia looked at eachother,talking with their eyes.

"He sent us to see if we can find our way back to base with outdated items to see if we can put them to any use , its most likely another test for you three , however he sent us in , being new and all you might not remember the route of the base , especially with it being far." Cordelia explained in a slightly questioning voice , did her explination make any sense to her , nope not one bit.

"The route...,We could head back to where we head back to that town and find our entry point , when we find our entry point we can trace our steps back to base." Half-life spoke up.

"Now i see why older people are wise- ow ¿Qué demonios era eso para el imbécil? , that hurt." Raul huffed holding his head after Half-life bonked him.

"Im only two years older than you." Half-life said as they started to bicker , untill it was both their turns two hold their heads as kirby bonked them , and said to shut up.

The five were than on their way , and Carver was glad he hasn't been bonked over the head yet , because when cordelia does it, its gonna hurt like hell,Raul and Half-life however are now being glared at by kirby if so much as a peep leaves their mouths,in conclusion women are scary.

----------

"Are we there yet." Raul muttered.

"No , not even close , we're about a two days walk from base because we wasted time and energy." Cordelia groaned.

"I agree." Kirby stated as Raul glanced at her.

As they were about to move on ahead , rotters started filling the area.

"Shit it's a horde!" Raul exclaimed quietly.

"Ok everyone prepare to fight , kill , and stay alive." Carver stated as Half-life rolled his eyes.

"No shit sherlock." Half-life muttered.

"Asshole."

"Dickhead."

"Fuck-face."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

"Cunt."

"Pussy."

"The both of you shut the fuck up or else!" Cordelia said to her husband and friend.

And with that the reapers , wait scratch that , los segadores 

rebeldes , as raul like to call them , grabbed out their weapons.

Carver and Cordelia had hunting knives,should have brought her bow too , but she realized too late , Half-life had his sniper with a homemade silencer , a knife attached to it , Kirby had her double edged knives , and raul his hand crafted bow,getting an arrow ready to shoot,and a knife sheathed on his belt.

"Let's get this over with." Kirby stated as Cordelia nodded.

As the rotters got closer , They went in for the kill , groaning and growling , and thats when the group started to fight.

Raul kicked a Walker , or in the reapers case rotters , away from him , before shooting her - or what used to be a her in the head,he then shot three more , one after the other to kill three rotters getting way to close to kirby for his liking.

"Watch out!" He yelled , As Kirby stabbed a rotter in the head, turning around and dodging out of the way just in time before a rotter lunged at her , Stabbing it in the head , she looked up before nodding at him.

Half-life and Carver were back to back , ten rotters surrounding them , the two look at eachother and nodded , before lunging at the rotters calculated and carefully , stabbing and shooting them in the heads.

Meanwhile Cordelia was struggling , no not because of  the walkers or because of there being to many for comfort , but because a child , no a baby , crawling , not even getting to the walking stage , was a few feet away from her , the child was dead already so why was this so hard?

Cordelia wonders what would have happend if she never lost their baby , he or she may have been around three or so , as the apocolypse went on , her sense of time started to perish , the time of day was turning into night as the group fought against the rotters.

"Im so sorry this happened to you little one , may you find peace in the afterlife." Cordelia said stabbing the child in the head,the growling suddenly stopped , a tear falling softly down her cheek.

The children born or growing up in the apocolypse don't deserve this cruel and cold world,they deserve one of happiness and warmth.

-----------

Timeskip : 2 days later.

-----------

"Finally!" Raul and Kirby cheered out happily as they called out to mancea to open the gate.

It was then Pope stepped up , holding three mask , and black oufits.

"You survived the flames of God , and traveled his path for you , We welcome you all as full fledged reapers.

The oufits were handed to them ,and so were the mask, however they stated they would stick to wearing war paint like cordelia due to the fact that they didn't want the mask to hinder their sight , however if needed they would wear the mask.

The three stared at eachother all knowing one thing , that this was only the begining.

----------

[A:n] : ok photos are from pintrist however you can use your imagination too because i couldn't really find anything for the mask's or the boys oufits.

For Raul and Half-life if you watched s11 , half-life wears the same fit as carver although he wears the cloak that all the reapers have over it , and the bottom is like longer ish (man i suck at descriptions) The points is its kinda of like leah's but flared out a bit more.

Meanwhile Raul has a Black mask that goes over his nose , and a black sleavless compression shirt , he has the same pants as Carver wears , however his are a bit more baggy , his cloak does not have a hood or sleaves and is flared at the bottom. (Yeah probably best to us the power of imagination😅)

okay kirby i did find somthing.

a little somthing like this , but probably with combat boots , now her normal style , like cordelia , they wear what they find on their hunts , however her and maggie have a similar style , if not the same hence being twins,meanwhile the boys usually wear tshirt's or tank tops and also have a similar style to daryl's oufits.

Now war paint and mask:

The mask are up to your imagination cause i couldn't find squat ..

Kirby : I can also imagine her having the skairipa war paint in the 100 worn by octavia.

Raul: His war paint like this , however i feel it would be smudged and a bit messy .

Half-life : Half-life would litterly splatter war paint or whatever was on hand on his face until it looked good

Ok that is the end of this chapter , yes i finally updated lmao sorry if this felt a bit rushed , if you have any suggestions feel free and don't be shy to ask , due to the fact that one of the main plotlines i have for this story won't happen until act 4 and act 5 , (if you watch my ff edits on tiktok: zaenighteditz you know what im talking about wink wink , no okay)

but yeah don't be shy , written by a 17 year old who is suprised this book has came so far while only being on act 3 , so i thank you , why because i can.

Stay tuned and see what adventures the group goes on to next.

--‐-----------

#fanfic #wattpad #original character #jd pardo #j.d pardo #ez reyes #mayans mc fic #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans #alex meraz #twd #twdcarver #twdbrandoncarver #tracy spiridakos #elizamorely #eliza taylor morley #eliza taylor #bob morely #bellamy blake #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction #twdpope #twdreapers

[archer973]

So, life update!

I haven’t been around, besides my queue rolling, cuz frankly life has taken an aggravating left turn into Bullshitville

Took the kiddo to Michigan to spend some time with his Grandma (and enjoy the lack of two inch long mooseflies gnawing on him). Got back home, day later, power’s gone! Figure it is cuz they’re replacing the poles, grumble about bad luck, continue on with our lives.

Power does not come back on. Call power company. Bill is three days passed due, so being the cunts they are, they disconnect (yes I know they have to send a disconnect notice first, CMP is a nasty piece of shit company and is more than happy to bury someone in lawyers). Cue grumbling and bitching, but hey, payday is only two days away, we can deal, no biggie.

Payday rolls around. No paycheck. Husband goes up to HR. Supervisor apparently “forgot” to put in his PTO that he got approved LITERALLY THREE MONTHS AGO. (This is the same supervisor that refused to give him the holiday pay because he had to leave work for an hour to come get me and the kiddo when our car broke down and the tow truck literally could not take us. And because of policy, that meant Husband lost not one but BOTH days of holiday pay).

So no paycheck that week. Which meant no power. So we hunker down, put our immediate perishables in a cooler and bring up the storm water from the basement. But we lost everything in our freezer that we couldn’t grill within the next two days, and we’re getting low on clean clothes, because we literally just got back from two weeks of traveling.

But we deal. Payday comes around again! Hallelujah.

Bill is paid. Power should come back on, right? Wrong. They say it could take until Monday evening (paid on a Thursday, mind you). Another weekend no lights, no running water. Temps got up to 95* with 100% humidity.

Monday rolls around. Waiting with bated breath for power! No power. Company is closed down for the night.

Call the next morning. They say they’ll send a tech! Only one tech in our area, and he’s on a ten hour job. They promise he’ll swing by tomorrow, first thing!

He does. Says our meter is bad. Comes back sometime in the afternoon and replaces meter. Meanwhile, I’m running around applying for different jobs, because Husband’s old combat injury is getting worse and he can’t keep doing the job he’s doing. I haven’t had a shower since we were in Michigan, so I scrub my hair in the sink and try to find the least smelly clothes I have.

Go to interview. Get job! Things are looking up. Come home, still no power. Have to wait for an overnight reset, they say. Morning rolls around, guess what? Still no fucking power.

At this point we are at the end of our rope. Company claims everything looks good on their end, we should have power. So that means it’s something in the house.

(Keep in mind the power was working just fine before they shut it off.)

Husband calls electrician friend of his. Electrician friend suggests a few small things to try. Nothing works. Meanwhile Husband has left Shit Job and started working full time at the garage, which is good, we both like it much better, but he doesn’t get paid until a project is finished and the customer pays the garage owner. Which is why I am picking up the job at the factory, so we have a steady paycheck.

Electrician friend says it might be the electrical box, which is almost a grand just for the box itself. Says that it might have been shorted out by the bad meter when CMP tried to turn the power back on. Electrician friend offers to come up and look at it Saturday (this was this morning, Friday). We thank electrician friends profusely.

We were supposed to dogsit for my mum and go to the Renn Faire. Had to bin the Renn Faire and I came down solo to my mum’s (which is how I’m posting this) to hang with the dog, do a metric fuck ton of laundry, and take my first shower in three weeks. Tomorrow we will find out whether we have to beggar ourselves to try’n fix the electricity, or if there is a simpler (and cheaper) fix.

So if y’all have any good vibes to spare, I could definitely use them, cuz this has been some ridiculous bullshit.

Good news is I start work full time on Monday!

#ruby liveblogs life #i am exhausted and probably in the process of developing a stress ulcer #i hate capitalism with every fiber of my being