ALIZEH STRUGGLED TO BREATHE. THE nosta glowed hot against her skin; the prince had not lied to her once.
It should’ve been a comfort to know that he meant her no harm, but she was not in full possession of herself. He’d caught her off guard, out of sorts. She seldom, if ever, allowed herself to get so angry, but today was a strange day, made more difficult by the hour.
She’d been dismissed without hesitation.
Alizeh had been sent upstairs to pack her things and exit the premises with all possible haste. She’d managed to avoid the inevitable beating, but only because she’d finally defended herself, terrifying Mrs. Amina in the process. There was no point in taking the hit, Alizeh had rationalized, if she was to be cast out regardless—though she’d not actually hit Mrs. Amina. She’d merely lifted a hand to protect herself—and the housekeeper had nearly fainted.
The woman had not expected resistance, and the forceful impact of her hand against Alizeh’s forearm was such that it sprained the housekeeper’s wrist.
It was a modest victory, and it had cost Alizeh dearly.
At best, Mrs. Amina would deny her a reference—a reference that might’ve made all the difference in finding another position quickly. At worst, Mrs. Amina might report the sprain to Duchess Jamilah, who might then report Alizeh to the magistrates on charges of assault.
The girl’s hands were shaking.
She shook not merely with rage, but with fear for her life, the whole of it. For the first time she had hope of escape, but Hazan himself had said there was a chance their plans could go awry. It was imperative that Alizeh attend the ball tonight, but the deed was to be done with discretion—she would need camouflage in such a situation, which meant she needed a gown. Which meant she needed time and space to work; a safe place to prepare.
How would any of that happen now?
It was all beginning to drown her, the realizations sinking in like sediment. The pain in her knee had begun to ebb, but still it throbbed, and the dull ache reminded her now only of her own inexhaustible torment.
Never was she spared a moment of peace; never would her demons leave her be. She was always fatigued, always tense. She couldn’t even change out of her miserable, sopping clothes without being besieged, and
now she would be pitched out into the winter streets. Everything she’d tirelessly built—the pocket of light she’d dug free from darkness—had been so easily extinguished.
All the world seemed frightfully bleak.
The magistrates alone would’ve been terrifying enough, but with the crown in pursuit of her, Alizeh knew her life was forfeit. If she couldn’t make things work tonight she’d have no choice but to leave Setar, to begin again elsewhere and hope Hazan could find her again.
She felt suddenly close to tears.
There was a whisper of movement then, a featherlight touch along her arm. She looked up.
The prince was staring at her, his eyes dark as pitch, glittering in the candlelight. Alizeh could not help but be struck by him, even then. His was a face you seldom saw in a crowd; so stunning it stopped you in your tracks.
Her heart had begun to race.
“Forgive me,” he said. “It was not my intention to upset you.”
Alizeh looked away, blinked back tears. “What a strange person you are,” she said. “So polite in your determination to rummage through my things without my permission; to deny me my privacy.”
“Would it improve matters if I were rude?”
“Do not attempt to distract me with such tangential conversations.” She sniffed, wiped her eyes. “You know very well that you are strange. If you truly did not wish to upset me, you would leave at once.”
“I cannot.” “You must.”
He bowed his head. “I will not.”
“Just moments ago you said you wish me no harm. If that is true, why not leave me be?”
“What if I told you that your safety was dependent on the results of my search?”
“I would not believe you.”
“And yet.” He almost smiled. “Your safety is dependent on the results of my search.”
The nosta glowed so hot Alizeh flinched, then stared, wide-eyed, at the prince. “Do you mean to say you seek to violate my privacy in the interest of my protection?”
He grimaced. “Your summary is distasteful.”
“But you scarcely know me. Why would the prince of Ardunia trouble himself to protect a hated stranger?”
He sighed at that, looking frustrated for the first time. “My motivations, I fear I cannot adequately explain.”
“Why on earth not?”
“The truth may seem to you farfetched. I wonder whether you will believe a word of it.”
Alizeh felt keenly the pressure of the little glass orb then, grateful for its presence more than ever. “I would ask you to try anyway.”
At first, he did not speak.
He reached into his pocket instead, retrieving what appeared to be a handkerchief—which he then held out as an offering.
Alizeh gasped, recognizing it at once.
Her body was seized by a static of shock as she took the familiar cloth into her own hands. Oh, she’d thought it lost. She’d thought it lost forever. The relief that overcame her then was such that she thought she might be inspired, suddenly, to cry.
“How? How did you—”
“It is my fault you are now being hunted,” the prince said quietly. “When I saw you disarm the Fesht boy that awful, fateful morning, I thought you’d stolen your uniform from an unsuspecting servant, as it seemed more likely to me that you were a Tulanian spy than a snoda. I made inquiries, and in the process, delivered you undue harm.”
Alizeh took an unsteady step back.
Even as the nosta glowed warm against her skin, verifying his every word, she struggled to believe him.
“Forgive me,” he said, staring now into his hands. “I’ve been made privy to some details of your life in these last few days, and I—”
Gently, he cleared his throat.
“I think very highly of you,” he said. “You may not know much of me, but I’ve seen enough now to understand that you’ve been treated abominably by the world and its inhabitants, myself among them. I intend to spare you the worst of what comes next, insomuch as I am able.”
Alizeh stilled, blinking against a sudden blow of emotion. She had tried to raise a shield and failed: she was touched.
It had been a long time since anyone had noticed her or found her worthy of basic kindness. What had the prince seen of her life to inspire him so? She dearly wanted to know—wanted to ask—but her pride would not allow it.
She stared at him instead, at his bowed head.
Her eyes traveled over the thick, satin waves of his black hair, the broad shoulders beneath his intricately knit ivory sweater. He was tall and steady, so beautifully in possession of himself. She saw the prince in him then, the elegance of nobility, of honor; he seemed in that moment every grace personified.
“You say,” she said quietly, “that you think highly of me.” “I do.”
The nosta warmed.
“And you mean to protect me now as a kind of penance?”
At that, the prince looked up. “In a way,” he said, and smiled. “Though I experience no suffering in the effort, so I suppose even in this I’ve managed to be selfish.”
Alizeh took a deep breath. She wanted to laugh; she wanted to cry.
What a strange day this had turned out to be.
“If all that you say is true, sire, why can you not simply leave here? You need not search my room. You might return to the palace and tell His Majesty whatever you think will best accomplish your goal.”
“I never said I was sent by His Majesty.” “Were you not?”
“I cannot answer that.”
She sighed, turning away as she said, “I see you are determined to be infuriating.”
“My apologies. Perhaps you should return to work.”
She spun back, all tender emotion forgotten. “You dare dismiss me from my own room? How do you manage to be so kind in one moment and so vexing in the next?”
He tilted his head at her. “You are the first to think me capable of such dichotomy. I am in fact not known to possess so changeable a character, and I’m forced to wonder whether the source of your frustration is rooted elsewhere.”
Alizeh’s eyes went wide at the affront. “You think the fault lies with me, then? You think me inconstant?”
“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.”
Alizeh squeezed her eyes shut.
Oh, she wanted to shake him. There was no use trying to convince him of anything.
She moved away, bending with only a little difficulty to collect her disassembled carpet bag from the floor, and quickly pulled the threads taut, reshaping the small luggage. She was aware of the prince’s eyes on her as she worked, but did her best to ignore him.
Quickly, she removed her few items from their hooks—including Miss Huda’s unfinished gown—folding them on her bed before tucking them into the bag. She reached for the apple crate next—
“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.”
He moved in front of her. “That’s absurd. I won’t allow that to happen.” She stepped aside. “You do not control the universe, Your Highness.” “I control more of it than you might consider.”
“Do you even hear yourself when you speak? If so, how can you stand
it?”
Improbably, the prince laughed. “I must say, you are a surprise. I’d not
imagined you’d be so quick to anger.”
“I find it difficult to believe you imagined me at all.” “Why?”
Alizeh hesitated, blinking up at him. “I beg your pardon? What reason would you have to wonder about my temperament?”
“You need only one? I have many.”
Alizeh’s lips parted in surprise. “Are you making fun of me?”
He smiled at that, smiled so wide she saw the white flash of his teeth. It changed him, somehow. Softened him.
He said nothing.
“You are right, in any case,” Alizeh said. “I am not usually so quick to anger.” She bit her lip. “I fear there is something about you that makes me angrier than most.”
He laughed again. “I suppose I should not mind then, so long as I am memorable.”
Alizeh sighed. She shoved her small pillow into her bag, snapped the overstuffed bag closed. “All right, I w—”
There was a sound.
A distant creak of stairs, the sound of wood expanding and contracting. No one ever came up this far, not unless it was absolutely necessary—and if someone was here now, it was without a doubt to make certain she was gone.
Alizeh did not think before she reacted, instinct alone activating her movements. Indeed it all happened so quickly she’d not even realized what she’d done until her mind was returned to her body, sensation returned to her skin.
She felt him everywhere, all at once.
She’d knocked them both back into a far corner of the room, where they now crouched, and where Alizeh had cloaked their bodies and her bag with
invisibility.
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.
If she and the prince were caught alone in her room together, she could only imagine the fallout for both of them. A plausible explanation seemed impossible.
When the doorknob turned a second later, she felt the prince stiffen with awareness. His hand tightened around her waist, and Alizeh’s heart pounded only harder.
She’d forgotten to blow out the candle.
Alizeh tensed as the door creaked open. She had no way of knowing who would be sent to check on her; if it was one of the rarer Jinn servants, her illusion of invisibility would not hold, as it was effective only on Clay. She also knew not whether her attempt to extend this protection to the prince would be successful, as she’d never before attempted such a feat.
A figure entered the room—not Mrs. Amina, Alizeh noted with relief— but a footman. His eyes roved the room, and Alizeh tried to see the space as he did: stripped of all personal effects, save the small basket of dried flowers.
And the candle, the blasted candle.
The footman scooped up the flowers and headed straight for the flame, shaking his head with obvious irritation before blowing it out. Doubtless he wondered whether the girl had planned to set fire to the house upon her exit.
He was gone a moment later, slamming the door shut behind him. That was it.
The ordeal was done.
Alizeh should have rejoiced in her success, but the small, windowless attic room had gone suddenly, suffocatingly dark, and a familiar panic
began to claw its way up her throat, constricting her chest. She felt as if she’d been left at the bottom of the sea, consumed whole by infinite night.
Worse, she found that she could not move.
Alizeh blinked desperately against the jet black, willing her eyes to adjust to the impenetrable darkness, to widen their aperture enough to find a single spark of light, all to no avail. The more desperate she grew, the harder it became to remain calm; she felt her heart beat faster in her chest, her pulse fluttering in her throat.
The prince moved, suddenly, touching her as he shifted, his hands circling her waist. He lifted her, just slightly, to adjust himself, but he made no effort to put space between their bodies.
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?”
Alizeh felt a bit faint, and she did not know then whether to blame the dark or the nearness of the prince, whose ever-increasing proximity had begun to brew a counterintuitive cure for her panic. His closeness somehow dulled the sharpest edge of her fear, imbuing in her now an unexpected calm.
She unclenched by degrees, sinking slowly against him with unconscious effort; every inch she conceded he easily claimed, drawing her deeper into his warmth, more fully into his embrace. His body heat soon enveloped her so completely that she imagined, for the length of the most sublime moment, that the ice in her veins had begun to thaw, that she might presently puddle at his feet. Without a sound she sighed, sighed as relief coursed through her frozen blood. Even her racing pulse began to steady.
She could not name this remedy.
She only knew he was strong—she could feel it even now—his limbs heavy and solid, his broad chest the ideal place to rest her head. Alizeh had been desperately fatigued for years; she was overwhelmed then by an illogical desire to wrap the comforting weight of his arms around her body and sleep. She wanted to close her eyes, wanted to drift off at long last without fear, without worry.
She’d not felt safe in so long.
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.”
Alizeh almost laughed, grateful for the reprieve. She focused her fractured consciousness on the prince, allowing his voice, his weight, to orient her. He seemed to her so wonderfully concrete, so certain not only of himself, but of the world he occupied. Alizeh, by contrast, often felt like a ship lost at sea, tossed about in every storm, narrowly avoiding disaster at every turn. She was struck, then, by a strange thought: that she might never be shipwrecked if she had such an anchor to steady her.
“If I tell you something,” Alizeh whispered, her hand curling unconsciously around his forearm. “Will you promise not to tease me?”
“Absolutely not.”
She made a sound in her throat, something mournful. “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—”
Alizeh made a sound of protest, so horrified she shot straight up and stumbled, her injured knee having been locked in one position for too long. She caught herself against her old cot and stifled a cry, clinging to the thin mattress with both hands.
Her heart beat harder in her chest.
She shivered violently as her body filled again with frost; her terror, too, had returned, this time with a force that shook her knees. In the absence of the prince—the absence of his heat, his reliable form—Alizeh felt cold and exposed. The darkness had grown somehow more vicious without him near;
more likely to devour her whole. She stretched trembling hands out before her, reaching blindly for an exit that refused to illuminate.
She knew, intellectually, that hers was an irrational fear—knew the illusion was only in her head—
Still, it claimed her.
It gripped her mind with two fists and spun her into a vortex of senselessness. It was all she could think, suddenly, that she did not want to die here, compressed by the darkness of the earth. She did not want to be abandoned by the sun, the moon, the stars; did not want to be inhaled whole by the force of the expanding universe.
Suddenly, she could hardly breathe.
She felt his arms come around her then, strong hands steadying her, searching for purchase. He drew a map of her with his fingers until he found her face, which he took into his hands, and upon which he made a discovery that bade him be still. Alizeh felt it when he changed, when his fingers met with the tears falling slowly down her cheeks.
“By the angels,” he whispered. “You really are afraid of the dark. You strange girl.”
She pulled away and wiped at her face, squeezed her eyes shut. “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?”
“Saved my life?” Alizeh said, angrily wiping away the last of her tears. “How easily you praise yourself. You hardly saved my life.”
“Didn’t I? Was not your life in danger? Is that not why you were crying?”
“Of course not, that’s n—”
“Then you accept my point,” he said. “That you were in no real danger.
That you were being nonsensical.”
“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.”
“Oh,” she said, feeling small. “I see.”
He touched her then, a brush of his fingers down her arm, leaving a fiery path in its wake.
Alizeh dared not breathe.
She didn’t know when they’d arrived here, or how, but in such a brief time she felt closer to this peculiar prince than she had with most anyone. Even the way he touched her was familiar—his nearness was familiar. 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—that he’d sought her out in the interest of her protection, ostensibly against the wishes of the king—had deeply affected her. It was not even that he was handsome or noble, or that he acted the part of a chivalrous prince—
No, her pleasure was far simpler than that.
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.
She heard him draw breath.
“I want very much,” he said softly, “to tell you what I am thinking now, but you will no doubt think I exaggerate, even if I swear it to be true.”
Alizeh wanted to laugh. “Do you not think it a kind of cheat, sire, to make such a declaration when you know full well I will insist upon your confession? Does it not seem unfair to you to place the burden of interest entirely on my shoulders?”
There was a beat of silence then, during which Alizeh imagined she could feel his surprise.
“I fear you’ve mistaken me for a different sort of person,” he said quietly. “I displaced no burden. I do not fear the repercussions of honesty.”
“No?” Now she was nervous. “No.”
“Oh,” she said, the word a breath.
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 only breathed him in, drew the fragrance of his skin into her blood, the darkly floral scent striking her mind like an opiate. He drew his hands down her body with an unconcealed longing she returned in equal measure; one she’d not even known herself to possess. She didn’t even think before she reached for him, twining her arms around his neck; she pushed her hands through the silk of his hair and he went briefly solid, then kissed her so deeply she tasted him, heat and sugar, over and over. Every inch of her skin was suddenly so fraught with sensation she could hardly move.
No, she did not want to move.
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.
Her bones would not cease shaking. They both struggled to catch their breath, but Alizeh hardly knew herself in that moment, hardly recognized the violent pounding of her heart, the unfathomable desire that had risen up inside her. She now wanted things she could not even name, things she knew she could never have.
What on earth had she done? “Alizeh.”
A frisson of feeling moved through her at that, at the tortured sound of his voice, her name on his lips. Her chest was heaving; her corset too tight. She felt suddenly dizzy, desperate for air.
Heavens, she had lost her mind.
The prince of Ardunia was not to be trifled with. She knew that. She knew it and yet somehow, for a brief window, it had not seemed to matter; she’d taken leave of her senses and now she’d suffer for it, for her lapse in judgment. She’d already suffered for it if the ache in her heart was any indication.
Alizeh wanted nothing more than to throw herself back into his arms, even as she knew it to be a flight of madness.
“Forgive me,” Kamran whispered, his voice raw, nearly unrecognizable. “I didn’t mean— I wasn’t thinking—”
“I’m not upset,” she said, trying to steady herself. “You need not worry on that account. We were both of us out of our heads.”
“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.
Somehow she knew—somehow she saw, with shocking clarity—that a planted kernel between them had bloomed. Quavering green shoots had sprung forth from the ground beneath her feet; shoots that, if nurtured, might one day flourish into something majestic, a towering tree that not only bore fruit and offered shade, but supplied a sturdy trunk against which she might rest her weary body.
This was impossible.
Not only impossible, it was dangerous. Ruinous. Not merely for themselves—but for the realms they occupied. Their lives were pitted against each other. He had a kingdom to one day rule, and she had her own life to pursue. Any other avenue would lead only to chaos.
His grandfather was trying to kill her.
No, Alizeh understood then, even as it pierced her heart, that if she did not destroy this fragile bloom between them now, it would one day grow
great enough to crush them both.
She had to leave.
She took a step back, felt the doorknob dig into her spine. “Wait,” the prince said. “Please—”
She reached backward, wrapped her hand around the handle, and pushed it open.
A single, faint beam of light penetrated the room. She spotted her carpet bag in a corner, and quickly collected it.
“Alizeh,” he said, moving toward her. She saw the anguish in his eyes, a flash of panic. “Please, don’t just disappear. Not now, not when I’ve only just found you.”
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—”
“I beg you do not.” He was in front of her now, one hand reaching out, as if he might touch her. She couldn’t breathe for not knowing whether he might, then couldn’t breathe when he finally did, when the tips of his fingers grazed her hip, then up, up the curve of her bodice, trembling slightly as they drew away.
“Will you not give me hope?” he whispered. “Tell me I will see you again. Ask me to wait for you.”
“How can you even say such things when you know the consequences would be dire— Your people will think you’ve gone mad—your own king will forsake you—”
Incredibly, Kamran laughed, but it sounded angry. “Yes,” he said softly. “My own king will forsake me.”
“Kamran—”
He stepped forward and she gasped, took another step backward.
“You must—you must know,” Alizeh said, her voice unsteady. “I must tell you now how grateful I am for what you did today—for trying to protect me. I am in your debt, sire, and I will not soon forget it.”
She saw the change in his expression then, the dawning realization there that she would really leave, that this was how they’d part.
“Alizeh,” he said, his eyes bright with pain. “Please— Don’t—” Then, she was gone.
