by Lucy Tempest
He gathered me closer to his side as he slowed down our brisk stride. “I know.”
I looked up at him. “Why? All of it?”
“Because those who chose gold proved they desired me for my wealth. Their response was meant to humble them, to remind them that being rich and noble didn’t make them special.”
“Your note was angrier at those who chose silver.”
“Because they did so to appear humble, or because choosing gold seemed avaricious yet choosing lead was beneath them. They avoided making a stand or taking risks. Those who chose gold were at least honest, told us what they want and what to expect from them. Those silver choosers were indecisive or deceitful, and I can’t stand either trait.”
His words chilled me to the bone, further pushing back the possibility of telling him the truth. I’d been both completely deceitful and frequently indecisive. I was far worse than any of the vapid girls he despised so much, who’d only come for the sparkly tiara and a life of unearned status and idle luxury. I’d been sent to rob his family, and in the end, I had. I’d robbed them of their crown, their kingdom.
Agitation seized my bones. His opinion of me worried me far more than the risk of being caught. I dreaded losing his trust and respect far more than imprisonment or mutilation. I loved him that much.
“What about the lead box?” I asked, trying not to sink into my sickening dread and guilt.
He smiled down at me, that admiration that always made me almost sprout wings filling his eyes. Next moment, I crashed back to earth. That admiration was for the Lady Ada of Rose Isle who didn’t exist.
Unaware of my turmoil, he explained, “The note asked you to gamble, and you did. Gambles rarely pay off immediately. You got your response the next day.”
Many of my calculated gambles had paid off, hugely. Until the biggest one. That had robbed me, Cyrus and all of Cahraman of everything.
I swallowed. “So my response was advancing to the next round. Clever. That whole test was pretty clever now that I think of it.”
His salute of acknowledgment was a gesture I recognized as Ayman’s, choking me further as he said, “The second test was more flexible, leaving it up to my suitors to show me what made them valuable to others. Instead, I got a talent show.”
That day had been one of my worst in the palace, right behind the final night when I’d had to leave him behind. I’d been sure I’d be both eliminated for exhibiting no talents or skills, and jailed for assaulting a princess after I’d punched Fairuza in the eye.
But it turned out Cyrus didn’t consider a skill to entertain others made you worth a place in their lives. He’d considered my saving Cherine an act of compassion and bravery, traits that made me valuable, as a person, and as a consort.
During the Final Five tests, he’d told us he didn’t need a wife to bear him heirs and entertain his guests, but one who could rule in his place if something happened to him and she was left as regent. One who could cope with any difficulties, and not be overwhelmed like his mother. Aside from resourcefulness and compatibility, he’d been looking for someone selfless in her priorities and wise in her decisions.
It could be said I’d been selfless in my efforts to save Bonnie, then Cherine, then him and Cahraman. As for wisdom in decisions, that alone should have disqualified me from day one.
He pulled down the scarf so I could see his expression, an overwhelming fondness that wobbled my legs and heart. “And in every test, you surpassed all expected results. It’s just my luck that you fit my every wish, even ones I didn’t know I had, while being someone I can never get tired of being around, someone whose very presence delights me, whose every word and action challenges and invigorates me.”
If this were any other situation, I would be squealing with glee. But he wasn’t really talking about the real me. The real me was an imposter whose actions had doomed his kingdom. And one day, I’d have to tell him that, and everything else.
Until that day came, I hoarded his love for the barren years of rejection ahead.
The largest butcher shop was in the marketplace’s most crowded area. Cyrus and I hid in the adjacent alley, watching the bored butcher sharpen his cleaver, waiting for an opening.
He stood at the front with the freshest cuts on enchanted blocks of ice, with a box of bones behind him. Those were relatively easier to swipe, but I had a feeling if I brought back a batch of bare bones again, Cora would eat my arm.
“How do you steal something that big and in plain view?” He pointed at the succulent-looking leg of mutton in a place of pride in front of the butcher.
“I don’t. I only managed to slip a few steaks when he opened first thing in the morning and got mobbed by customers. Then the economy sank completely and now there are no more crowds to hide among. I’ll go for the dried meat he keeps in the back room, hopefully unattended. I hope we can sneak enough to fill five stomachs for a few days.”
“That settles it then,” he said with a clap, starting to rise. “I’ll distract him and you take the food.”
I dragged him down. “We can’t let anyone recognize you, remember?”
“I’m in disguise, remember?”
“That worked with you passing within crowds. But with your height and physique and those eyes…if you stand before someone longer than seconds they’d know who you are! And Nariman must have put a bounty on your head all over the market with some magical lifelike portrait, so anyone who doesn’t know how their Crown Prince looks like probably does now.”
“She wouldn’t,” he said stiffly. “She wouldn’t harm me.”
I groaned at his persistent belief that she had a good side, after all that she’d done. “She took your birthright, Cyrus, held you hostage and now has her guards hounding you.” I was actually wondering why she hadn’t magically apprehended him herself, like she’d targeted and kidnapped me from across the Folkshore. Could her powers be faltering? Or was she so secure her guards would bring him in and she needn’t expend any magic herself? From what I’d seen of her powers, the second answer was probably true. “Why aren’t you angry about this?”
“Anger serves no purpose. All I care about is that my father is safe, and that this can be undone. That’s where I must focus all my energy.”
His response was at once infused with determination—and nonchalance. Like he cared about everything and everyone, but not about himself or his own status as crown prince.
“Did she talk to you after she detained you?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“And?” I prodded when he didn’t elaborate.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
He shrugged. “She said she wanted me as her heir, and if I behaved, I could take my pick of the women in the palace as a wife, preferably Princess Ariane.”
Ariane! I’d always thought being the diplomatic princess that she was, she’d manage to get on Nariman’s good side, wouldn’t be among those in danger. Seemed I’d been right.
“When I refused, told her I was doing nothing until she changed everything back to what it was, she locked me in my quarters and said she wouldn’t let me out until I accepted her offer.”
That only validated my observation. The last thing he cared about was having his status back. “Didn’t you think of playing along?”
“Deceive her, so I could eventually overpower her, you mean?” I nodded and he shook his head. “It’s not how I do things.”
“But she plotted against you and usurped you, Cyrus. This is war.”
“I don’t subscribe to the notion that anything is fair in love and war. I can’t betray my morals every time it serves my purpose and rationalize that it was necessary and for the best. That only leads to more deterioration and strife. There’s always a better way.”
Ugh. I’d never considered his nobility could actually be a handicap. He’d been in the best position to fight back and he’d chosen to stick to his principles instead. If anything, it underlined how different we were. I
lived by deception, while he wouldn’t deceive to save his life.
But now I thought about it, maybe his integrity wasn’t a handicap after all. In fact, he was right. Every time I’d rationalized betraying my morals for a noble cause, it had backfired. We were standing in the middle of the catastrophe my good intentions had caused.
But what was the better way? Would we ever find one?
I let out a tremulous breath, verbalized my thoughts. “And now that you’re out, do you have any idea what this better way could be?”
“None so far. We’re dealing with unimaginable power here. But until I do figure something out, don’t expect me to throw tantrums like Cherine and my aunt.”
“That’s not what I meant. I just feel like you’re not angry at Na—Lady Rostam.”
He looked away. “I keep reminding myself that I should be. But I can’t.”
“Why?”
He ignored that question. “Customers are here. I’ll go add to their distraction.”
I tried to tug him back. “Cyrus, wait—this is too risky!”
“It never stopped you. Now I’ll handle the risk, while you go do your thing, my lady.” Before I could utter another word, he gave my hand a quick kiss and strode away.
He joined the group of five crowding the front stand. Projecting his princely persona, he effortlessly commanded their attention, asking unrelated questions and demanding a summary of each product. The instant they all looked to the left where he pointed, I rushed to slide a few steaks from their pile and into my satchel and shot towards the drying chamber.
The door wasn’t locked, its security seeming to rely on its massive weight. I pushed against it until my shoulder screamed before it finally scraped open enough for me to barely squeeze inside. I only managed it since I’d lost all the weight I’d put on in the palace.
Once I did, the smell of aromatic spices and pungent garlic hit me like an arrow in my empty stomach. My eyes adjusted in the relative darkness to the mouthwatering sight of line upon line of dried meats and sausages suspended from wooden rods. I patted around until I found a hooked pole and brought down four slabs of salami and a few lines of sausages. I shoved them next to the steaks and rushed to slip back out.
I was a few feet from the door when it exploded in, almost hitting me before slamming against the wall. Shock glued my feet to the ground as a shadow engulfed me. I looked up and found its source, a huge guard looming over me.
Chapter Six
“Thief!” the guard shouted, unsheathing his scimitar.
For a second, I wondered if everybody would shout that whenever they saw me from now on. If I’d completely lost my ability to hide in plain sight, to be a thief.
Next second, the scimitar was descending, aiming for my heart. I could only throw myself sideways, missing its cutting blow by a hairbreadth. I hit the dusty ground, my temple slamming against it so hard it rebounded, instantly filling my head with crippling agony.
The world revolved and my eyesight rattled as the guard towered above me, scimitar raised, catching the declining sun in a lethal glint before he swung it down on me again.
I couldn’t command my limbs to push me out of range of his strike. The first time I got caught would not end in imprisonment or even mutilation. It would end my very life.
I squeezed my eyes shut and braced for the pain, for the end. Then the impact came.
But it came with neither. It came with a shuddering stomp and a teeth-gnashing clang.
My eyes flew open.
It was only when I could finally scramble away from the writhing mass of muscles filling my vision that I realized what had happened. Cyrus had kicked the scimitar out of the guard’s hand, had tackled him to the ground. He was now squeezing his fat neck in a chokehold.
His hood had fallen off his head, his hair was in disarray, and his face twisted in fury.
I’d wanted him to be angry for what had happened to him and his land, but now I regretted that desire. I’d never imagined how he’d look and feel angry. It was—terrible.
He looked downright murderous.
And if he didn’t stop, he would murder that guard.
Back in Mount Alborz, Cyrus and Ayman had butchered dozens of ghouls to get Fairuza and I out alive. But he hadn’t been angry at the mindless monstrosities, just revolted and determined to snuff them out like he would any pest. But this rescue felt different, his most violent emotions raging to the surface. It flashed me back to when I’d realized how dangerous Cora could be, when she’d twisted a ghoul’s neck almost clear off.
But this guard wasn’t a monster, wasn’t even in control of his actions, and his death would be a stain on Cyrus’s conscience.
“Cyrus, stop,” I croaked as I rose to my knees.
He only twisted the guard’s neck as he stood up, like he was about to use his leverage to snap his neck.
I jumped up, swaying before latching onto his arm, frantically trying to loosen his grip. “Enough! You’re going to kill him!”
“He was going to kill you!” His voice was no longer the sonorous melody I knew, now a harsh rumble of wrath and ruthlessness. It was as if my mischievous thief and refined prince, even my fearless warrior were gone, and in their place was yet another persona, a vicious avenger. “He deserves to die!”
“You yourself said the guards were compelled. He’s not responsible for what he’s done.”
“You can’t compel someone to kill for you,” he growled. “Nariman’s compulsion had only brought out the murderer in this monster.”
“ Or, it might be as I suspected the last time they pursued me, that her compulsion was magnifying their original training, driving them to deal with any unlawful activity in extremes.” He didn’t seem to hear me, and I felt I couldn’t appeal to his mercy right now. So I tried to reach his cold logic. “Kill him and the guards hunting you will multiply because they won’t be looking for an escapee, but a killer!”
At that, he froze. He finally dropped the guard with a loud huff. The man crumpled to the floor, boneless, a collar of bruises around his neck. But he was still breathing.
Cyrus stepped over him and pulled me into a rib-cracking embrace. His breath was a storm against my hair and ear as he stroked my head and back with cherishing, shaking hands. He didn’t say anything, didn’t need to. I melted against him, pressing my face into his shoulder my cacophonous heartbeat synchronizing to the rhythm of his.
His family sigil, the sun, was so accurate. He radiated an essential energy that was vital to my soul. I wanted to bask in it forever, so he’d always be with me, my everything.
“You’re everything to me, Ada.” I lurched at his confession. It was as if he’d heard my thoughts. He gathered me closer, lips moving against my bruised temple. “I would kill anyone who harmed you.”
I winced against his neck, the burn of tears spreading behind my eyes again. “Promise you mean this only figuratively from now on.”
“It might need to be literal in our current situation,” he said, his tone losing its scary edge, becoming the beloved one that had echoed in my dreams when we’d been apart. “With the guards becoming this bloodthirsty—for whatever reason.” So he had heard me. “It does seem things are getting worse all the time. I saw it in every inch of my quarters, as if the rot she infected Cahraman with is deepening, as if the curse she cast is taking an even more macabre life of its own. I’m beginning to think it would take acquiring a magic staff from the goddess Lilyet herself to counteract it all. Hers must be how she’s channeling such unfathomable magic.”
I was about to trip and say the staff had done none of that, when a group of guards appeared at the end of the alley. They spotted their fallen comrade at our feet as we stood in full view in the open drying chamber. We faced each other for one more second, then they hurtled towards us, swords waving menacingly as they bellowed orders of arrest.
Cyrus swooped down, snatched the guard’s scimitar then pulled me behind him hard enough to pop all my arm joints.
We exploded from the chamber and swerved right, sprinted full out as guards chased us. Whatever relief I’d breathed in after my second brush with death in the same day, squeezed out of my lungs in shearing panting.
We reached the end of the alley as it opened into a square and Cyrus suddenly swung his arm, catapulting me ahead of him. “Run!”
I spilled out into the square, primal fear lashing me to dive into the nearest crowd. But I couldn’t. I’d always been alone in situations like this, had never had anyone helping me, let alone covering for me. I’d only ever had to worry about my own safety.
But my fear for him proved stronger than survival. My fear for Bonnie’s life had been as strong, yet had felt vastly different. I’d been protecting the sister I’d never had, the helpless victim of an evil witch. But Cyrus, while far from helpless, was willingly using himself as a shield between me and the guards. And he was my heart.
The guards were almost on top of him when Cyrus rounded on them, swiping his scimitars in arcs across their middles, making them all jump back and my heart to my throat. They hadn’t counted on him retaliating. He used their hesitation to go into a full-scale attack, moving with expert ease as he fended off those who recovered their wits, blocking their blades and slicing swipes at their every unarmored inch.
But he wasn’t going for the kill, as I knew he could. He must be heeding my explanation, unable to use lethal force with the possibility their extreme actions were through no fault of their own. But this only meant every second raised the risk of his own injury.
Heart almost ramming out of my chest, I picked a fallen scimitar and joined him.
“Leave, Ada. Now,” he roared as he landed a brutal kick into a guard’s chest, sending him barreling into two others.
“I won’t,” I yelled as I ducked beneath a guard’s sword swipe and slashed mine across his legs. “We stick together. Always.”