Chapter 10
10
“I WISH TO SPEAK TO F ATHER .”
Ali, who has guarded King Halim’s private chambers for the last decade, replies, “Unfortunately, Your Highness, he is not present at the moment.” At his back stretches double oaken doors, cut no thinner than a hand width. Even as a child, I was not welcome to enter Father’s rooms without an appointment. Always, I must knock as a stranger would.
“Then where is he?” I demand.
“He is in a meeting, Your Highness.”
This early in the morning? It is not yet dawn.
At my side, the South Wind shifts his weight, features pressed into fine creases. He, too, distrusts this meeting at so inconvenient a time.
Together, we hurry toward the war chamber, marked by doors paneled in gold, and flanked by four guards. At our approach, a broad-shouldered man bearing a long, pointed spear steps neatly into my path. “King Halim has asked not to be disturbed.”
“I must speak with the king,” I snap.
“I cannot allow that, Your Highness.”
The South Wind edges forward so that we stand shoulder to shoulder. The display of solidarity momentarily takes me aback.
“Princess Sarai has ordered you to stand down,” he murmurs, voice no louder than what is required for intimate conversation. “May I remind you that she outranks you tenfold and has the power to order your execution for obstruction of justice, should she desire it? Now step aside.”
The air begins to stir, roused to life by the South Wind’s budding ire, and the guard flinches back. He glances to his comrades, who appear equally fearful. Inwardly, I smile. I never claimed pettiness was beneath me.
A low groan as the doors open wide enough to grant Notus and I entry. At the disturbance, the two men occupying the long table stretching the length of the war chamber glance up in surprise. King Halim—and Prince Balior.
It is so vast a space my footsteps echo against the pale stone walls, the gleaming slabs of marble gracing the floor. Father regards our unexpected appearance with reproach. Meanwhile, Prince Balior regards me curiously before his gaze flicks to Notus. The blacks of his eyes flatten with a distaste he does not attempt to hide.
“Father.” With the ease of practice, I soften my expression, the tense pinch of my mouth. I smile warmly at Prince Balior, as if in silent apology of the intrusion. After all, he is our guest. “May I speak with you in private?”
King Halim digs the tips of his fingers into the cushioned arms of his chair. Its rust-colored upholstery paints his complexion with a yellow tinge. “Our meeting is still in session. You will have to wait.”
“The matter is urgent.”
“As is this meeting,” he retorts, “which is now delayed due to your interruption.”
An all-too-familiar heat begins to pinken my face. I stand tall by force of will alone. Indeed, the rules are clear. But I am trying my best to do what is right. “Please.”
“I will not repeat myself.”
I am your daughter , I wish to say. But I know what will occur, should the situation escalate. And after? When I have been shamed into silence, as if my emotions are a burden, and must be hidden as such? My mouth shuts, my words swallowed. I say nothing at all.
“Your Majesty.” The South Wind steps forward, drawing Father’s attention and, as a result, his anger. “I apologize for the interruption, but Princess Sarai would not interject unless the matter was as pressing as she claims.”
In this moment, I am a body with two minds. The woman who seeks to push aside any existing fondness for Notus, and the girl who leans toward him as though he is star bright. Even when I have treated him contemptuously, the South Wind still attempts to shield me. I do not deserve this kindness, but I appreciate it nonetheless.
“Very well,” King Halim growls with a wave of his hand. “You have the floor. Speak your concerns.”
All eyes come to rest on me. My heart flutters in uncertainty. I ask myself if I am willing to step from this cliff’s edge without knowing what awaits me at the bottom of the drop. For my people, for my realm, there is only room enough for yes .
“Father, I strongly prefer that we speak in private.” The prince’s attention continues to shift between me, Notus, and the king. “As I’m sure you would agree, I do not want to burden Prince Balior with news of Ammara’s toils.”
“If Prince Balior is to one day oversee Ammara, then he should be given a full image of the realm’s current state.”
My intention was to discuss my concerns with Father, calmly and concisely. I would lay out the information, no matter how implausible, though the implications are grave, and the details are few. Maybe I’m overthinking and forcing connections when none exist. But I fear what will happen to Ammara when my twenty-fifth nameday arrives and I am forever gone from the world. There is the army inside our walls. There is Prince Balior’s interest in the labyrinth. There is the beast, who seeks escape. No matter my fading days, I must find a way to force the prince—and his army—out of Ammara.
“Father—”
“Damn it, Sarai. Spit it out.”
Well then. He asked for it. “I cannot marry Prince Balior.”
Silence.
It is drowning, this stillness. Prince Balior sits frozen in his chair. Notus stares at me with rare bewilderment. King Halim’s mouth hangs open, jowls quivering. For half a heartbeat, I fear I have driven him to insanity.
Then Father lifts a hand to alert the guards. “Please escort our guest from the room.”
Prince Balior shoves to his feet. “I mean no disrespect, Your Majesty, but don’t you think I should hear what Princess Sarai has to say, considering I’m the topic of conversation?” A thin film of venom coats his words.
It takes a great effort, but eventually, the king stands as well, using the table for support. It hurts to watch him struggle for balance. But I know better than to show outward concern over his health.
“I apologize, Prince Balior. Please excuse Sarai’s behavior.” Despite his lack of stability, the king’s voice rings with strength. “She has not been feeling well of late—”
“I am feeling perfectly fine, Father,” I say through gritted teeth. Oh, if there were no witnesses in the room, I would have a story to tell. “If I could speak with you privately —”
“This heat would make anyone mad,” he goes on in response to Prince Balior. “Why, just yesterday—”
The lump in my throat thickens, and I turn from the king. I’m not sure why I try so hard to be heard when it is clear he does not care to hear my voice.
“Sarai.”
The touch of a gentle hand on my arm draws my attention to Notus. His eyes soften as they rest on me. They promise sanctuary. What fool am I, that I might reach out and collect what is promised? I never wished for Notus to see me in this pitiful, weakened state. If I am not strong, if I am not assertive, if I am not self-reliant and encased in armor, then I am vulnerable. And that simply cannot be.
“Was this your plan, Your Majesty?” the prince demands. “Lure me with the promise of an alliance. Then, when my guard is brought low, humiliate me?” His voice, which has climbed in volume, pelts the stone and marble of the room.
“Not at all, Prince Balior.” I hear it then—the king’s panic, which in turn ignites my own. As the prince paces, his gestures grow wild, an outlet for a fury that swells and overwhelms. In attempting to avoid conflict, have I in actuality set the spark?
“I have journeyed over twelve hundred miles through desert sands to get here. Now I’m expected to return home without a wife, without a union, as if this was no more than a holiday?” The prince barks an incensed laugh. “It is absolutely the worst treatment I have ever received in any kingdom or realm. You promised me your daughter’s hand,” he argues. “Now you’re going back on your word?”
King Halim’s face is so deep a red I half expect him to burst into flames. “I assure you, Prince Balior, that no one is going back on their word, least of all me. Like you, I am hearing of this for the first time. My daughter is simply confused… heat-stricken.”
Prince Balior smiles cuttingly. “I’m sure.”
With a heavy sigh, the king lowers himself onto his chair, bent in defeat. I glance at Notus, failing to mask my fear. If Prince Balior retaliates, Notus will protect Father, protect Ishmah, protect the realm. This I know. “I swear to you, Prince Balior, I would never disrespect you in this manner. I ask only for your forgiveness.”
The prince glances between me and the king in suspicion. “I have your word, Your Majesty, that you were not aware of what Sarai would say?”
“ Princess Sarai,” Notus growls to the prince in warning. “Do not address her so informally. You are not yet betrothed.”
Prince Balior studies the South Wind with arms crossed, posture loose, mouth slanting into his cheek. “As it turns out,” he says, “that is what King Halim and I were discussing—before you so rudely interrupted.” He slips from between the table and chair to circle the room, bypassing the guards stationed along the walls. When he begins to approach, Notus steps between us, hand gripping the hilt of his sword. Distaste curls the prince’s upper lip. “The king and I have reached an agreement. Princess Sarai and I are soon to be wed.”
My head whips toward Father, who refuses to meet my eye. We had an agreement, he and I. Yes, I agreed to an arranged marriage. But first, I would meet this prince and determine his character. Father promised that we would discuss my betrothal following the courtship before a final decision was made. Now he has gone behind my back and made this decision for me, without my consent?
And now my alarm has burrowed deep. I cannot separate myself from it. Because if Prince Balior’s motives are as nefarious as I suspect, my options have been reduced even further. I did, indeed, have a plan. And now Father has ripped a hole clean through it. No water will hold. It must be patched—quickly.
“Is there something I have done to offend you, Princess Sarai? Is that why you refuse to marry me?”
Prince Balior’s question draws my attention. Peering around the South Wind’s broad back, I regard Um Salim’s adored prince warily. For a heartbeat, I wrestle with the absurd desire to press my palm flat against Notus’ spine, absorb his heat and strength.
“No, Prince Balior.” Lies.
“You’re sure?” He cocks his head curiously. “Because if that were the case, I would hope we might discuss it like reasonable adults.”
“It’s not that,” I say. He cannot know the why. If I mention the army, the darkwalker, the beast, who is to say the prince will not retaliate? No, to abandon this plan, the reason must be sound. Indeed, it might be the only clear-headed decision I have made since the prince’s arrival.
“I cannot marry you,” I explain, “because Notus and I are engaged.”