This Woven Kingdom (24 page)

“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.

“Did you think me a simpleton?” she asked angrily. “Why else would the prince of Ardunia be sent to spy on me? It was you who sent those men to kill me last night, was it not?” She turned away. “More fool me. I should have listened to the devil.”

“You are mistaken,” Kamran said with some heat.

“On what point? Do you mean to say you are not responsible for the attempt on my life?”

“I am not.”

“And yet you were aware of it. Does it matter whose lips issued the order? Did not the directive come from your own crown?”

Kamran took a breath, said nothing. There was little else he could say without making himself a traitor to his empire. His grandfather had more than proven how readily he would decree the prince's head be separated from his body, and despite Kamran's many protests to the contrary, he rather liked being alive.

“Do you deny these allegations, sire?” the girl said,
rounding on him. “How long have your men been watching me? How long have I been a subject of interest to the crown?”

“You know I cannot answer such questions.”

“Did you know who I was that night? The night you came to Baz House to return my parcels? Were you watching me even then?”

Kamran looked away. Faltered. “I— It was complicated— I did not know, not at first—”

“Goodness. And I thought you were merely being kind.” She laughed a sad laugh. “I suppose I should've known better than to think such a kindness might be granted without a hefty price.”

“My actions that night had no ulterior motive,” Kamran said sharply. “That much is true.”

“Is it really?”

Kamran struggled to maintain his composure. “Yes.”

“You do not wish me dead?”

“No.”

“The king, then. He wishes to kill me. Does he think me a threat to his throne?”

“You already know I cannot answer these questions.”

“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.”

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.”