by Lucy Tempest
The neutrality of his formal tone faded only to be replaced by repressed anger that darkened his quiet question. “If that was all I needed, why would I have ever called the Search?”
I didn’t need to see her face to know she was glaring at him. “Perhaps you thought you could find better than the best.”
He looked down at her, face grimly shadowed. “The best at what?”
“At everything! You’ve seen how I’ve performed in each ridiculous task you’ve set to see if there was someone better than me and there isn’t.” She inhaled sharply, as if on the verge of crying. “Why am I still not enough for you?”
“I’m not marrying a garden, Fairuza. I’m not looking for a pretty addition to my palace that will sprout heirs come next spring. I am looking for a queen.”
A trace of vulnerability lined her statement. “A queen sits by her king’s side as he rules and helps raise the next king.”
“That is not all a queen does!” The intensity of his frustration sent a wave of shock through me, further chipping at my own previous impression of him and re-sculpting it into the powerful figure that cast his shadow over us all. “If that’s all you’ve witnessed growing up with a queen for a mother then I pity King Florent for the hand fate dealt him.”
Fairuza stepped back, a horrified hand over her heart. “Have you no respect for your aunt or myself?”
“This isn’t disrespect, this is disappointment. And since you’re all so determined to know the answer, I’ll spell it out.” His voice filled the hall. “The point of testing your judgment as a future consort was to see if you have the ability to rule. If I should fall ill or die, leaving you as regent to our children, and ruler of the land, what would you do?”
Fairuza took another step back, as if suddenly unsteady on her feet. “I…I don’t know.”
I gaped at her. That was literally the last thing I would have expected her to utter.
Cyrus shook his head at her. “If you’re wondering why you went from being my sole choice to one of many, we both now have our answer.”
Having someone shatter Fairuza’s illusions, pulling the rug out from under her, had been on the roster of fantasies that kept me going. But now it had come to pass, it didn’t feel good.
Against all reason, in this moment, I somehow felt bad for her.
She hadn’t had a fraction of my experiences, from the insignificant ones to those that remained soul-shaking. But I recognized this moment as the first drop of the downpour that was reality crashing down on her.
But it would continue to rain for me, because I had no castle to shield me from the storm ravaging the land. She did. She’d always find shelter. If not with Cyrus, then with another prince.
Without another word, Fairuza rushed past him and down to the carriages, barely giving her handmaidens time to climb in before she slammed the door shut.
Ariane and Cherine must have taken that scene as a sign to leave him alone and descended the steps quietly.
I wanted to take this moment to talk to him alone, but Cora remained half-leaning on me, and I couldn’t ask someone as observant as her to carry on without me.
Unbuttoning his cuffs as if his formal attire was stifling him, Cyrus invited us to head down. “I’m sorry you had to listen to that.”
“No worries.” Cora shrugged and herded me down.
Cherine had climbed into Loujaïne’s carriage. I could hear her interrogating the princess about her performance. Ariane, who’d arrived with Cyrus and Ayman, avoided any lingering anger by sitting in our carriage with Farouk.
This was my chance.
Cyrus beat us to the pavement, hands held out to help us down the last step. He offered a cold, impersonal touch, but the smile that shone through his eyes warmed me.
Caught up in the resurging feelings, I almost forgot how to speak. I barely managed to get my words in order before he could help me up to the carriage Ariane now occupied.
“Can we accompany you?” I said. “It seems our carriage is taken.”
Ayman opened the prince’s carriage for me before Cyrus could respond.
Giving him an amused sidelong glance, Cyrus bowed to me. “I would be delighted to have your company.”
Cora only gave me a blank look as she pushed past Cyrus and climbed in first, ignoring protocol and shocking both driver and footman.
Cyrus didn’t take offense to her entering before him, shook his head fondly. “Have to admire how hard her head is.”
“Fairuza’s head could crack geodes,” I retorted.
“No, it really couldn’t.” He faced me, hand outstretched again to help me up.
I set my fingers on his palm, trying not to betray the feelings that scattered like pearls beneath my feet, making every step and thought a struggle for balance. I also had to rein back my anxiousness to get the information I needed.
I hated to use whatever he might feel for me—especially if it went beyond simple affection. But if I won, and things went well, then he would have me wholly. It couldn’t hurt to have his help, whether he knew he was providing it or not, could it?
“So, this test was to find someone to take on Princess Loujaïne’s duties?” I asked, my heart spilling its beats in a hammering rush as he handed me up into the carriage.
“Among other things.” He grinned as he looked at Cora, who’d thrown her head against the back of her seat and started to softly snore. He sat across from me, suddenly frowning. “Now that you mention it, Loujaïne has been acting as queen in more ways than one lately.”
That was a rope he’d unknowingly thrown me. I had to grab it and pull myself closer, to know more about his life and about the witch who’d tossed me in it. “Just lately? Was there someone else before her?”
He blinked, an overt display of confusion, as if suddenly realizing something. “Yes, my father’s previous advisor had most of Loujaïne’s duties, even some of Farouk’s. She was the one who supported my demand to hold the Bride Search, even helped me set it up.”
So, that part of Nariman’s story was true.
“What happened to her?”
“Lady Rostam, according to my aunt, was a witch who was conspiring against the crown, planning to overthrow the king.” Discomfort melted his smile, sadness snuffing the light behind his eyes. “According to my father, she wanted to marry him, to be his queen at any cost, even dark magic.”
“She could have aimed to become his queen then depose him or dispose of him,” I thought out aloud, thinking back to Nariman’s claim that the king had promised to marry her, only to take the lamp before banishing her.
What if that lamp was used to banish her? What if she needed it to walk back in?
“What did he do once he found out?” I prompted, even if I hated the unease this subject clearly caused him, but I had to know. I needed to know.
“Though practice of black magic comes priced with public execution, my father only chose to banish her,” he said, twisting his rings around his fingers one at a time, another sign of disquiet. “I still don’t understand why, but it makes me question the accusations if she was spared that fate, as we don’t tolerate any form of black magic nor treason in Cahraman.”
I’d been right in believing I could never tell him the truth.
My hand rose to my neck as I tried not to gulp too visibly. “You don’t believe that her goal was to replace him?”
He shook his head, his mouth twitching in a humorless smile. “If anything, I believe she just wanted to be queen, like the fifty girls she sent for did.”
The mention of her saddened him, but not with an undercurrent of bitterness or anger like one would remember someone who’d hurt them. His dejection plucked at my heartstrings. It was too familiar, was what I felt whenever I thought of my mother.
As horrid as she was, Nariman might really be the closest thing he’d had to a mother.
But as worse as that made things, I didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on his complicated relationship with Nariman. E
xtracting as much information about her from him was vital.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how does one banish a witch?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
“Why?” He lightened up a bit. “Angling for information that will help in your tests?”
Had he been still my Cyrus, I would have countered his teasing. But as the prince, I had to continue maneuvering him for the answers I needed. “Why? Are we fighting witches in one?”
“Close. But no, I wouldn’t know how one banishes a witch. My grandfather forbade teaching me any witchcraft.”
“It’s a skill that could come in handy.” A skill I wished I had to fix my problems. “You might as well learn now that the old king is gone.”
“If you’re that interested, perhaps we could learn it together.”
I could barely contain my blush.
Our carriage ran over a bump, waking Cora with a start, and ending my interrogation.
I hadn’t learned all I needed to know, but it was enough for now, to know more about Nariman as a person. And by his suggestion, I might have a chance to know more in a coming test, because if it involved witches, maybe I could learn how to repel one.
We spent the rest of the ride back to the train in idle, lighthearted chatter, broaching many subjects, none invasive or polarizing. It felt different than before, talking as prince and lady, in the company of others. A public sort of familiarity that wasn’t as intimate as our time together in the tunnels and the vault or in the market, but was new and exciting nonetheless.
The shock of his real identity had at first made me hold on tighter to my impression of Cyrus, and reject the possibility he could have anything in common with the Prince of Cahraman. Now I found that I wanted to really get to know Cyaxares, and I could see myself loving that side of him as much, and as easily.
But that was a fantasy I couldn’t entertain. I had to stick to the reality of my mission. I wasn’t aiming to win him for myself, but for the chance to save my family.
But when no amount of logic could deter my fantasies from taking over, one thing did.
The repulsive thought of Cyrus’s and my future children calling Nariman Nana.
Chapter Ten
At the stroke of seven, Cherine burst into my room and hassled me out of bed.
Groggy and confused, I got dressed as she complained that our second text had been advanced to today.
It took over a half-hour for all five of us to be rounded up for a quick breakfast with only Loujaïne. I supposed Cyrus and Farouk’s absence had to do with the sudden shift in our schedule. Throughout the meal, Fairuza and Loujaïne traded whispers, likely discussing the test and how Fairuza was to pass it. Nariman may have made the competition cheat-proof, but that didn’t mean Fairuza couldn’t be coached by her aunt.
I kept an ear out for any information as I drank many small cups of coffee. I needed to be as alert and attentive as I could. Yesterday’s success would become pointless if I flubbed today’s test.
When the clock struck nine, a guard knocked and announced the arrival of our guests.
Like a coiled spring, Loujaïne bounced to her feet and clapped. “Time to go!’
Fairuza, Agnë and Meira moved past us, one of the handmaidens slamming a shoulder into Cherine.
Cherine made to chase her, but I caught her by the skirt. “Shhh, let it go. You can hide her shoes later when they’re helping Fairuza bathe.”
Her indignation subsided quickly, hazel eyes brightening. “That’s not a bad idea.”
“Of course not. None of my ideas are bad.”
“You were going to give that child to both women,” Cherine reminded with a wag of her finger.
“That was just a ploy to find out who the real mother was.”
“That was irresponsible! Imagine if they’d both agreed!”
“But they didn’t, that was what I was depending on.”
“Yes, but what if they had?”
Cora leaned down, sticking her head between ours. “Doesn’t matter. It didn’t happen. Don’t dwell on the past.”
“Why not? We learn from the past,” Cherine argued.
“Only if you let it pass, otherwise it becomes ever-present,” said Cora.
That was a fact I needed to remember. My tendency to dwell on what happened and what-ifs kept me from moving forward. It didn’t matter if everything could have gone differently, bad things had happened and now I had to make sure they got better.
Loujaïne turned to face us in the circular hallway. “If there’s anything you will learn to do as a wife, not just a princess, it is to influence the views and positions of your husband’s guests and allies.” Her voice rang around the soaring walls and expansive, marble floor. “Today, those are three dignitaries from neighboring regions. The king, the prince and myself will hold audience with each of them. Your job is to receive and accommodate those who accompany them. You must find a way to convince them to influence their superiors to agree with our demands.”
“Why?” Cherine asked, mouth full of pins, blindly fumbling around the back of her head to stabilize her chignon.
Loujaïne’s silver eyes sliced an annoyed glare her way. “I just told you why.”
“I didn’t get it.”
A deep huff slumped Loujaïne’s shoulders, dropping her beaded shawl to the crooks of her arms with a soft rattle. “A merchant-prince of Lower Campania, a captain of the Deep Red Sea and the Crown Prince of Almaskham are visiting today for business negotiations. Each is bringing companions with them. Your job is to attend to them.”
“But there are five of us,” I pointed out.
“I believe one is bringing two companions, so two of you will have to entertain the same party.” She moved to lead us out of the hall. “It should be a good exercise in court politics for you.”
Picking up her skirt to hustle after her, Fairuza seemed a bit fazed. “How can we share one guest? We’re competition!”
“I don’t have to spoon-feed you everything,” Loujaïne grumbled, volume rising with her thinning patience. “You’re all women of marriageable age from royal or noble families. You should know how to entertain guests in the presence of others.”
“I do, but not while competing,” Fairuza argued, distressed.
A muscle flickered in Loujaïne’s cheek as her glared hardened.
Fairuza’s lips trembled, but she said nothing. Neither did anyone else as we continued our departure from the dining hall.
At the first turn, Cyrus appeared, with Master Farouk right by him, reading him something from a scroll as he listened and nodded.
His hair was combed back and arranged neatly off his face today, bringing out more of his bone structure, making him appear older, more intense, especially as he frowned in concentration.
Like at the courthouse, there was something wildly different about him in that moment, something mysterious and powerful. The way he held himself, the clipped words and straightforward tone, the commanding gestures.
This was the man who would be king.
This was something I would never get over. That he could be two people on opposite ends of the spectrum so convincingly. It left me to wonder which was the version he would normally be on an everyday basis, Cyrus or Cyaxares. And which I wanted more.
The problem now wasn’t that I’d seen him as two very different people. Those were already starting to merge, with me recognizing him as the same person with many facets to his character, and still retained my intense feelings towards his whole person.
But the princely aspect of him didn’t stop at his personality, but continued past him into the realms of tradition, responsibilities, duties and all that made the kingdom go round.
Cyrus noticed us as we approached, breaking out that wide, white smile to greet us. “Good morning, ladies. I hope you had a good night’s rest. Have you been briefed on today’s mission?”
I resisted a flinch at the word “mission,” and the reminder of my real purpose here. That damned l
amp, and Bonnie’s lifeline beginning to slip through my fingers.
“Not really,” I admitted. “What are we supposed to convince the guests of your guests to do exactly?”
“Good question,” he said. “But first, let me give you an explanation of every guest’s business here.”
As he turned, beckoning us to follow, I caught up with him first, listening intently as he told us about one of our guests—a navy captain, and how he tied into Cahraman’s need to build port cities along the Deep Red Sea.
He gestured as he spoke, his rings glinting softly, catching the morning light from the soaring windows. I wanted to ask about the silver pearl, about his mother, about what else he knew of Nariman, if he had known my mother. Ideas of telling him everything dangerously circled my head again like vultures.
But even if I didn’t get arrested on the spot for deception and possibly treason, I couldn’t ask a man to rob his own father, his king. Cyrus already knew I was looking for the lamp, thought that I had to retrieve it for a goddess, but it would be beyond suspicious of me to tell him, “By the way, it’s in your father’s personal safe. Do you happen to have a spare key?”
Unless I could convince him. Today we were supposed to convince people to do something for the crown. Plant the idea in their companions’ heads so they could in turn influence them. I supposed we had to convince them of something they were resistant to, or at least ambivalent towards.
If I convinced him to do something he would never normally do, he could help me with this, then help me with Bonnie then—
Cherine caught my arm, briefly unbalancing me and ending my foolish musings. “You better not be getting tips on today’s mission.”
“I would give her no such thing,” Cyrus assured her in mock-seriousness.
Fairuza hustled closer, the materials of her skirt rustling menacingly. “What are our individual missions then?”