Chapter Thirty-Two Amunet
THIRTY-TWO AMUNET
I woke with a groan, my face crushed against a pillow.
Gods, I felt like shit. Someone was beating a drum in my head, and my limbs weighed a ton each.
With effort, I pushed myself upright and wiped drool from my chin, grimacing.
My mouth tasted like metal, and my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.
I blinked once, twice, three times before the room came into focus.
Dim. A single candle in a wall sconce lit the space, seeming to throw more shadows than light into the room.
I could just barely make out the decrepit narrow bed beneath me, smooth stone walls, and the outline of a window that was entirely blacked out.
When I squinted, I noticed the glint of metal in the window, sheets of it lined up like boards to fully block the outside world.
Events came back to me with startling speed. Instant panic, sharp and biting, burst inside me. I ran to the door and yanked—
It didn’t budge. Locked.
I slammed my palms against it. “Hello?” I called, my voice cracking. I cleared it and tried again. “Hello!”
There was no response.
“Jasim? Are you there? Open the door!”
Nothing.
Sara probably killed him after she knocked you out, said the king. You really are all alone. In the dark. If I recall, you’re deathly afraid of the dark. Something to do with me?
My breathing picked up speed, sawing in and out of my chest. There wasn’t enough air in here. Too dark. Too much like my nightmares. I pounded both fists into the wood, wincing when I hit the slats of metal built into it. “Hello! Hello, can anyone hear me! Hello—”
The door opened. A man stood there. Dark dreadlocks grazed his hollow cheeks, and a beard reached to the center of his chest. Despite his malnourished frame, his immense height made him terrifying.
I’d only met him once in my life, but if I’d had any doubt about who he was, the pointed ears sticking out between the vines of his hair and the gold-flecked eyes would have made it obvious. Prince Anwar Lotfi of Haisab.
I glared at him. A pathetic show of bravery when he had the power to read and control my emotions. I tried anyway. “Release me and I promise to spare you.”
“Spare me?” He scoffed. “Oh, Gods-Chosen. I don’t think you understand what’s happening here.”
I let out an enraged scream and lunged—
My fury guttered. A candle snuffed out. I halted abruptly. The fear remained, but the desire to tear Anwar’s throat out with my teeth simply evaporated.
Anwar’s gold-flecked eyes glinted with the use of his magic. “Behave, Gods-Chosen. Or I might decide to make your stay truly unpleasant.”
Chills worked down my spine. “Where am I? Why am I still alive?”
“Because it’ll be easier to sit on the throne if the Gods-Chosen has given her blessing.”
I tried to muster up a scowl, but my facial muscles wouldn’t obey. “I won’t give you shit.”
“No,” he agreed. “But you are going to marry me. Which is just as good.”
I scoffed incredulously. “I’d rather die.”
“I’d rather you would, too. Unfortunately, killing you would probably bring the might of the gods down on me, which I’d like to avoid.”
I glared with the force of the Trench’s flames. “I will not marry you.”
The dim light from the single candle made Anwar’s smile look like it stretched entirely across his face.
“You already have. There will be plenty of witnesses—from Haisab and Reeda—who will attest to it. A little persuading, and the imbecile Nasir will profess the same. All I need from you, Gods-Chosen, is for you to keep on breathing. So you will remain here. Surrounded by iron.” He pointed to the door and the various metal beams bordering the room.
“Even when you go through the Igniting, you will remain here, as trapped as if you were a mere jinni.”
Iron could trap a jinni. But not just a jinni—it could incapacitate any creature of Shaya’s.
My heart bumbled around in a panicked frenzy, slamming into my ribs, staggering up my throat. No, no, no. No, this couldn’t be happening. Shaya wouldn’t let this happen. He wouldn’t leave this blasted moron to rule while his daughter rotted in the dark.
Maybe this is exactly what he wanted. Maybe he put you here. King Zaid snorted. Throw you in a dark hole and forget about you. If I’d thought of it, I’d have done it myself.
“Where’s my guard?” I demanded. Jasim would get me out. He would—
“Dead,” Anwar replied brightly.
That chasm in my chest yawned impossibly wider, nape and back of my head blazing with the need to scratch. They were lying. Jasim wasn’t dead. He’d been fine. Unconscious but—
Alone in the dark, King Zaid singsonged.
“You will be fed,” Anwar said, “as long as you behave.”
“No,” I stated, like it was obvious, like it was a fact. “You can’t leave me here.”
Anwar smiled again, that eerie, cutting line, and slammed the door.
I lunged to catch it but was too late. My teeth rattled as I crashed into it. Even though I knew it was futile, I yanked on the knob, but it was already locked again. I banged my palms on it. “Anwar! Anwar, let me out! Anwar! You can’t keep me in here! Not in here! Anwar!”
But no one answered.
Knees threatening to buckle, I staggered back as it slowly sank in.
Shaya wasn’t answering. I wouldn’t make it to the temple. Anwar had taken me captive. The single candle on the wall flickered, as if it, too, were against me, threatening to plunge me into total darkness. And Jasim…
The backs of my legs hit the bed. A rickety, tattered thing. But I barely registered it as I sank onto its uneven mattress.
Darkness was all around me. Pressing in. Just like that night all those years ago.
The king had said there was nothing about me worth loving.
He was right. Loving me had gotten Jasim uselessly killed.
At least his death in the temple would have meant something, a bridge to Shaya, but this…
there was no meaning in this. It wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t right. It wasn’t true, it couldn’t be.
I longed for my rage. But whatever Anwar had done had left me with nothing more than heavy, suffocating fear and crushing sorrow.