by Lucy Tempest
The way he spoke of his father, despite my own conclusions, didn’t add up, just like his parents’ relationship. Unless Darius had happily accepted Jumana as his wife and, unbeknownst to him, she’d never returned his affection. If so, that made their situation a lot sadder than I thought possible.
I stepped closer to him, lowering our linked hands to hold onto his arms. He moved closer as well until I set my head on his shoulder and he rested his head on mine.
Being affectionate came so easily with him, like we had been in each other’s personal space for years and didn’t need to think about it anymore. That we had already passed the awkward stage, the part where we would figure out what was okay and what wasn’t, and jumped straight to this.
This. Comfortable, comforting ease and intimacy. It was something his parents had never had. A side effect of most, if not all, arranged marriages that he wanted to avoid. His choice to reject Fairuza not once, but twice, made more sense now. He didn’t want to doom them both to a trapped marriage or risk his children losing their mother.
But now I’d learned that his rejection could be what doomed Fairuza to a fate worse than death.
Choking on the thought, I said, “Tell me about her.”
His chest moved beneath my cheek as he exhaled raggedly. “She was the only girl left in House of Morvarid, which made her targeted by all nearby kingdoms and princedoms who wanted wives for their heirs. She got so many offers she took a whole year to decide which one she’d accept.” He sounded detached all of a sudden, like he was reciting an old folktale. “After a lot of thought, she was going to remain in Almaskham and marry one of her second-cousins, Prince Azal.”
This was maybe the fifth or sixth time I had heard about Prince Azal, and judging by what Ayman told me, he was a colossal jerk.
“Why didn’t she?” I asked.
“The ruling prince at the time, Aurelia’s husband, decided against it. My mother was the only girl and they were a small princedom. They needed alliances especially to their closest neighbors. So, my mother chose my father and Azal was married to Loujaïne.”
“Loujaïne?” I exclaimed, shocked that I hadn’t considered her husband’s identity before, even when Marzeya had taunted her with my mother.
So that’s the prince who’d taken my mother as a mistress? Was he the reason she’d escaped to Ericura?
This was another piece of the puzzle of my incomplete history.
“Is Loujaïne still married to him?” I barely held back the question. “If not, why hasn’t she married Farouk?”
He shrugged, moving our tangled arms up.
“So what happened?”
He made another noncommittal move, feigning ignorance.
“That wasn’t something you were supposed to tell me, was it?”
“It was not.” He pulled back slightly, an uneasy smile flitting over his sculpted lips. “But, you ought to know now anyway.”
“Why’s that?”
“Can’t you guess yet?”
Heart doing another series of summersaults, I rose on my toes to bring my eyes closer to his, my voice a tremulous sigh as I whispered, “Looks like you’re going to have to spell it out for me.”
Slowly, he lowered his face to mine, bringing us nose to nose so I could see nothing but the shimmering waves of the summer sea in his eyes.
Then with one shared breath, he pressed his lips to mine.
Chapter Thirty-One
The never-ending buzz that had plagued my head for years was instantly gone.
Empty and quiet, it was like I was floating in the aether, finally free of the world and its worries. The only thing in my sight, taking all my attention, engulfing all of me, was the sun. Warm, golden and powerful enough to pull me in into its center. The sun that was Cyrus.
This was the peace I had been searching for my whole life.
Time stopped and the world no longer existed—until Cyrus broke off the kiss.
He pressed his forehead to mine, hands gently settling on my upper arms to hold me steady. “Do you understand now?”
“Mmm, I think you’re going to need to explain it a few more times for the fact to stick,” I said dazedly leaned my spinning head against his chest.
His chuckle reverberated deeply under my ear. “What are you thinking?”
I hummed, feeling as if I’d drunk too much wine. “I’m thinking if you end up choosing Ariane after this, I will fill your pillowcases with eggshells and your mattress with fish heads.”
His laugh boomed, his chest shaking beneath my cheek. “Oddly specific, and innocuous Wouldn’t poison in my wine be a more appropriate threat?”
I gawked up at him. “I would never hurt you! I’d do anything to keep you from harm, no matter what.” I smothered my face again, harder in his chest. “I only wished you’d choose me, for every possible reason, but I still never thought I’d win, not when the others are so much better than me.”
“If that’s what you think after all this, then my wedding gift to you will be a roomful of silver mirrors.”
“The mirrors are unnecessary because my self-esteem is bad enough as it is,” I said sarcastically, before rethinking his words and everything stopped.
My jaw dropped and I could swear I felt it hit the ground.
I gaped up at him for what felt like an hour.
Then from an unending tunnel I heard my voice, pitchy as scratches on a blackboard. “Did you say wedding gift?”
I thought he’d brought me here to tell me I’d won, but that he’d still needed to discuss it with his judges and the king.
I felt totally numb as I watched Cyrus nod, his gorgeous face beaming down at me. “Two days from now is the final day, the day I announce my choice to the kingdom. Tomorrow is the day my father meets you for himself.”
The mention of his father dimmed the world around me. “Does he have to approve your choice?”
“Of course, his approval does matter, especially regarding how people will respect you. But he’s agreed to the Bride Search, said that he wouldn’t approve anyone who didn’t pass all our tests. That was why it was vital for you to do so. Now that you have won, even he can’t contest my choice.” He suddenly gave me a sly wink. “But don’t tell anyone else that yet.”
The way I was feeling, I might never tell anyone anything ever again. I could barely remember how to speak.
He moved back enough to dig through his coat pocket. He pulled out something small. “This isn’t what I wanted to use, but for now please accept it as a placeholder. It doesn’t look like much, but it should throw off any suspicion until the announcement.”
It was a small, crude brass ring set with a brownish red stone—not jasper but something close. A carnelian maybe. It looked like an antique, very old compared to the heirloom rings I’d seen every woman in this place wearing. It seemed made before they mined enough gold and before rubies were plenty. Or made as a poorer approximation to gold and ruby rings.
But he was giving it to me. The fact that he thought of giving me something was enough, but if it was this specific piece rather than any of the prettier options in the vault, then it must mean something to him.
It finally hit me that he was giving me a placeholder for an engagement ring.
“You’re proposing to me?” I spluttered, unable to get a grip on my mouth or voice, or any other part of me. “Aren’t you—isn’t this—”
“Early? Presumptuous? Not on one knee?” he offered cheekily. “But no, I’m not. Yet. I will, officially, at the final ceremony. I just found it impossible to wait two more days.”
I shook my head, wanting to say so much, but all words deserted me. What could I say to something so unbelievable?
All I could say was, “Why?”
He caressed my cheek. “Ada, I almost lost you before I could get to call you mine. We both came so close to death in that mountain, and we would have died not just before I could choose you but on distant terms. We never know when the Fates might tear us ap
art, so I wanted to mend our bond and establish a new one as soon as possible. I would have proposed right after we left the mountain, but I wanted to have the ring first.”
He held out the ring to me, asking for my hand. “What do you say?”
Too overwhelmed to speak, I let out a cross between a sob and a laugh. I held out my trembling hand.
He held it, steadying it, and slipped the ring on my finger.
A shiver ran through me the instant the cold metal settled on my skin.
I half-turned to hold my hand up in the light, to see it from some distance. “Is there any significance to this ring?”
He came up behind me, a hand on my shoulder and the other around mine, moving it side to side, watching the stone catch the light. “You asked for the ring that could grant wishes. Ayman and I have made many trips back down to the vault to try on each ring we could find and make demands of it. We eliminated every single one until this one. I believe this might have some magic to it.”
“What did you wish for?”
“Ayman wished for a darker complexion and I wished for random things like pink snow or for all statues of simurghs to come to life.”
“Clearly none of those happened, so what tipped you off about this one?”
He moved his hand up against mine, threading our fingers with our arms outstretched before us. “I had an ache in my back from killing all those ghouls and wished for it to stop, then this morning it did.”
Which could be the effect of a good night’s sleep.
So, was this ring wish-fulfillment or wishful-thinking?
A flash gleamed across the stone, darkening its color just a bit, like a layer of dust had been blown off it, intensifying its shine and shade. At once, another shudder coursed through me, this time infused with both elation and foreboding.
Was this my answer, or was that what every girl felt when the man she loved slipped a ring around her finger?
Chapter Thirty-Two
Cyrus and I walked back inside, our hands still clasped until we reached a point where we could be seen. I hadn’t been ready to let go.
It was still unbelievable, that Cyrus wanted to marry me, that he’d taken me to his mother’s grave, given me a magic ring and told me all I had left to be his bride was to meet his father. The father who would invite me into his quarters.
I was really doing this? I was going to be all Aurelia said I could be? I was going to be his partner, his princess, his everything? I didn’t have to choose between my future with him and the safety of the Fairborns anymore?
This development, this path to a happy ending he had put me on was so—surreal.
My head ought to have been in the clouds, light with happiness, but worry for Fairuza anchored me to earth. Even though I knew that her fate wasn’t my fault, and that stepping aside would not save her since Cyrus didn’t love her, I still felt like I destroyed her spirit, that her will to fight for her life had been snuffed out like a candle.
Cyrus waved Ayman out of the shadowy hall, turned to face me, holding my hand between us. “I must leave you now. Ayman will accompany you back to your room.”
I tiptoed to whisper in his ear, “Will Ayman attend the celebration?”
“He should, if he doesn’t find an excuse to hide in the corners and slip away.”
“We could dye his hair, maybe get him tinted glasses.”
His eyes softened, a look of heart-aching tenderness and affection I would never get tired of. “You are very thoughtful. Why do you ask, though?”
“He is your best friend, right? And I was asking because maybe if he has a companion he’ll stick around.”
“A companion? How would you manage that if I couldn’t?”
“You tried setting him up?”
“A few times with girls who’ve caught his attention.” He heaved out a heavy sigh. “He refuses to show up.”
“I think I can manage.”
“And you still wonder why I chose you.” With that he pecked my cheek then my hand, giving me one last glance filled with excitement and promise before walking away.
Ayman approached bunching up his hair to settle it under his helmet. “Let’s go.”
“Have you given my offer a thought?”
Sliding on his helmet, he murmured, “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why?” I whined. “She’s interested. Aggressively interested, and so are you. Why are you letting this chance pass you by?”
He just put his hand on my back and pushed me forward. “You need a nap before dinner and you’re wasting your sleep time.”
“Hey!” I tried digging my heels in but my foot hurt too much and he was too strong. He had me gliding all the way to the stairs, catching baffled looks from passers-by.
The stairs, which I’d thought would be a good place to stop and argue, proved to be no problem for him, as he picked me up, set me on the fourth step, pushing me up the rest.
I leaned my weight back to slow him down. “Would you just consider it?”
“I have. My answer is no.”
“She’s not going to chase you like an idiot forever, she’s a noblewoman, she’ll have lords circling her like hawks the second Cyrus announces his pick.” I clapped to emphasize the urgency of the matter. “You better act now.”
He didn’t answer. I took it as him mulling it over.
At the top of the stairs, he once again pushed me to my room like I was a cart. He was close to shoving me inside and tucking me in for my mandated nap when I swerved and knocked on Cherine’s door.
She opened at once. As Ayman turned to leave, I stomped my good foot on his, pinning him in place as Cherine bounced to the tune of her own excited babbling.
“Ada, did you find him? The silver prince? I know I need to focus on the competition but how can I think of Cyaxares when he’s around? And I doubt I will win. But I’ve made it to the Final Five, which guarantees me great prestige and a good marriage to a great man.” She jumped again. “Do you think I can ask for him, whoever he is? What do you think he is? A real prince? An ambassador?”
“Would it matter if he’s not either of those? I mean, if he works here then you’ll live in the palace with him either way, right?” I asked Ayman more than her.
She tapped a finger on her chin. “Hmmm, we’ll see. I just need to get him when he doesn’t have to rush anywhere. You said you could find him for me, didn’t you?”
With all my nerves flailing, it was harder than ever trying not to grin. “I did.”
Cherine took my hands in her hers and shook my arms with every begging hop. “Please, please, please!”
“I’ll try my best.”
She squealed excitedly and rushed back into her room, slamming the door.
I turned to Ayman who already had his helmet in his hands, teeth worrying his lower lip.
“I figured you needed to see just how much she wants to meet you.”
“I’ll do it.”
“If that’s how you feel then—what?’
“I’ll do it,” he said firmly, glancing at her door. “I’ll show up at whatever place and time you pick.”
“And you won’t chicken out at the very last second? Because there’s no use in getting her hopes up only for you to slink off into the shadows.”
“I won’t.” He spread his big gauntleted hand over his heart with a slight bow of his head, as if in a pledge.
I held out my hand. “Shake on it?”
Briefly hesitating again, he took off his gauntlet and lightly grasped my hand.
As he moved to let go, I gripped his hand a bit tighter, leaning in. “Now that that’s dealt with, I need a favor.”
“Anything,” he said immediately. “What do you need?”
My heart squeezed with guilt at his ready answer. At what I had to do.
No matter how I tried to work it, any distraction I planned to steal the lamp when the king invited me to his quarters could be what unraveled all my efforts and got me killed.
/> With no proof to the ring’s magic, there only reliable way of getting that lamp hinged on Ayman sneaking me into the king’s quarters through the tunnels.
Then I’d either get in and steal the lamp before the celebration, or better still, I’d find out where the lamp was once the king invited me into his quarters, then come back for it later.
In a perfect world, once my mission was complete, I’d leave the palace through the tunnels, deal with Norman, get the Fairborns back then come back to Cyrus.
Though everything was going far better than I’d ever dreamed, I still couldn’t dare dream of that perfect world. All I could do was take the next step and hope it wasn’t the one to bring everything crashing down.
I finally exhaled. “But you can’t tell Cyrus.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Once in the privacy of my room, I lifted my aching foot on the bed and studied the ring.
Whatever it could or couldn’t do, I’d find out nothing without trying it myself.
“I wish I had Nariman’s lamp,” I said to it.
As expected, the lamp didn’t magically appear in my hand.
“I wish Bonnie and her father were here,” I tried again, less of a true wish and more of a sad sigh.
No tiny, bookish girl and absent-minded smith materialized before me.
“I wish I knew the truth about this stupid lamp,” I huffed in defeat.
Nothing happened again.
I gave up and stood to change my clothes—and noticed The Anthology of the Dunes open on the other side of the bed.
That was neither the place nor the page I’d left it on.
After an initial fright, thinking someone had been in my room, I closed in and found it open at the first story I’d read back during our first test, The Silent City of Alabasta, where Esfandiar of Gypsum had to answer three riddles to be allowed out by the guardian beast, once again, a simurgh.