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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I WISHED I HAD A GOOD REASON to turn Prince Cairo away, but it seemed that my mind turned blank every time I met him, and I couldn't seem to figure out the reason why.
Still, I could guess. It was probably the looming thought of murder.
"Weren't you sick?" Prince Cairo asked, walking towards me. There was a kerchief in his hands, stained with something red that was probably wine but looked eerily like blood, and as he walked, a tall man followed closely behind, their eyes pointed down to the floor.
When he looked up, he met my eyes long enough to nod a greeting, before looking back down to the floor.
At this point, I hadn't seen Ismal face-to-face in what felt like forever, and it was a forever that hadn't been missed. He seemed to have gotten thinner, his skin a little paler, his wrinkles a little deeper, his eyes a bit more sunken but gotten more vicious, looming over me like he would be ready to pounce and wrap his arms around my neck at any passing moment.
But he also looked tired, and I felt a surge of joy the moment I took notice of that.
Every bad thing that ever has and ever will happen to him, he deserves it, and I will rejoice.
"Where did you hear that, Shahzadeh?" I said, looking away from Ismal, only to plant my gaze squarely on the Prince's shoulder.
It was too much to look at his eyes right now.
"Your maid mentioned it to me," he said, folding over his kerchief. "She's a funny one. Took enough liberty to accost me in the middle of the hallway to specifically inform me."
I didn't need to look up to know he was amused; this prince was both too hard and too easy to read.
Inwardly, I cursed Maria.
This was the true definition of a pet biting the hand of its master in an attempt to lick.
"Apologies, Prince," I said. "Maria is a little young, so she doesn't know the rules very well. I didn't think she'd trouble you."
"No, no trouble at all. It was amusing to know that her first instinct was to call me." He paused. "Was it perhaps because—"
"Maryam tends to do things on her own accord. She's hasty but she's a good maid. She didn't mean anything bad, Prince."
My answer had clearly come out a little too hasty, for both him and me, but I didn't think I could bear hearing him finish the sentence.
Was it perhaps because you asked her to?
The thought itself was mortifying, and made even more so with the knowledge that Ismal was standing not two feet away.
