In the winding streets of the Persian Empire, a poor girl is chosen to become the third prince's concubine.
Aliya Farhad has no interest in the lofty ideas of the palace, the staff, or her lover. Prince Cairo has all the interest in his blue-eyed A...
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MEN BORN WITHIN THE PALACE could never be simple.
Once, a long, long time ago, back when Maryam and I had first started getting acquainted, she had come over after dinner, claiming to need my company out of boredom. She'd sat down on the side of my bed, hugged a pillow — I couldn't remember exactly which one, or which color, because it seemed that the number on my bed increased every fortnight or so — and told me of a rumor her chambermaid had told her.
"Do you know, apparently, Persia doesn't just have three princes," she'd whispered. "We have four."
"Oh?" Maria was brushing my hair, and I didn't need to turn around to know by the slight pause in her hands that she'd most probably rolled her eyes.
I didn't try to lecture her. The two of them had never gotten along, and Maria was simply too good of a girl to approve of my friendship with Maryam — wild and childish and very, very cute, in a bubbly sort of way.
Maryam nodded wildly. "Yes. Apparently, there's Prince Raza, Prince Finn, Prince Cairo, and then another one — Prince Omar."
"Prince Omar." The name felt strangely foreign. "What an odd name."
"I know!" Maryam burst out. "Afi told me about him. Apparently, he's the second eldest after Prince Raza, a year older than Prince Finn."
Without waiting for me to reply, she continued, "He was also born from a concubine. Not the same concubine that birthed Prince Cairo, but a different one. I heard this one wasn't even a maid working in the Palace; apparently, the King had an outing somewhere once outside of Archaem. There, he had an affair with a common woman, and nine months after he came back, the woman dropped the prince off at the castle gates. She didn't even let the guards escort her into the Palace."
I wondered if Maryam could see the look of envy on my face.
How strong is she, that she can stop the guards from escorting her into the Palace?
What would my situation be, had I been able to do the same?
I didn't want to think about it, because all it did was bring back a wave of anger that rushed up past my throat, burning the back of my tongue like acid.
So instead, I said, "And where did you hear this from?"
"Afi, of course! Who else would share this sort of information to us?"
Behind me, I could hear Maria let out a sharp exhale, and it didn't take much for me to guess what was on her mind —
'Afi, of course! That chambermaid with no sense of duty and who only knows how to gossip, ruining this lady and my own Miss as well!'
—or something else along those lines.
"You say that as if you're not good friends with all of the other debutantes in the Palace," I said. "They would all love to hear this story."
