Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
KAMARAN
“You’re here.” Kamaran leaned against the doorframe of the sitting room he had already come to think of as Rana’s.
She looked up from her seat on the divan, amusement pulling at the corners of her mouth. “You said that last time.”
“I was surprised then, too. You’re a rather difficult woman to find.”
In fact, if it weren’t for a casual comment dropped by his page, he had all but given up hope of finding Rana on his own.
“You’re the Sultan. Couldn’t you just send a servant looking for me or something? Surely you, of all people, have the resources to track someone down.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Just because I can doesn’t mean I should. I do understand boundaries. You already have a negative enough opinion of me; I didn’t need to add forcing my company on you to my list of crimes.”
“I see. Is that why you’re lurking in the doorway instead of coming all the way in? You can sit down, if you like.” She gestured to the cushioned chair he had occupied before.
The smile that took over his face was wide and unforced as he stepped into the cozy space and dropped into the chair, and it grew when he spotted the plate of colorful sweet cubes on the low table between them. “Is that Adhavian Delight?”
“Made by my Teta. It’s our favorite.” Rana stabbed her needle into the embroidery hoop.
He recognized the emerald fabric from their first meeting, though it was covered now with intricate gold patterns that hadn’t been there before.
She set the hoop down and reached over, plucking a cube off the plate and popping it into her mouth.
She closed her eyes and hummed in appreciation.
“These ones are flavored with rose and orange.”
“That sounds delicious.” Kamaran leaned forward to take one of the candies, but Rana swatted his hand away before his fingers touched the plate. He looked up in surprise.
“Those are mine. Get your own plate.” Her eyes were narrowed at him, and he could not determine whether the glare was meant to be playful or serious.
He erred on the side of caution and pulled his hand back. “You’re not going to share?”
“Sharing implies that I offer, and you accept.”
“Are you going to offer?”
She tapped her chin thoughtfully, the motion drawing his attention to her soft, full lips, and he wondered for a brief moment if her kisses would be as feisty as her words tended to be.
The unexpected thought caught him off guard, and he hastily shoved it away.
The last thing he wanted to do was scare her off, especially when it had taken so long to earn her regard.
“I don’t think you realize what you’re asking.” Rana shook her head sadly. “Once you taste Teta’s Adhavian Delight, you’re going to be ruined for all other kinds.”
“I’m willing to risk it.” He held out his hand, palm up.
“You can’t say I didn’t warn you.” She picked up one of the ruby-red cubes and placed it in his hand. The tips of her fingers grazed his skin, and Kamaran’s nerves lit up with far more electricity than was reasonable at the simple, innocent touch.
He pulled his hand away, masking his reaction by delivering the candy to his mouth as quickly as possible.
His eyes widened as the sweet, citrus taste danced over his tongue, perfectly complemented by the light floral notes.
“This is amazing,” he said, forgetting his manners and speaking with his mouth still full.
Rana grinned smugly as she settled back into the divan. “I told you.”
He swallowed and laced his fingers together over his knees to keep them from reaching for another. “I’m telling Zamar to cancel the Queen’s Contest. I’m going to marry Teta.”
She laughed, and he wanted nothing more in that moment than to bask in the brightness of her smile. “I think there might be a few more qualifications for being queen than ‘Makes the World’s Best Adhavian Delight.’”
“Name one.” He mimicked her posture, leaning back into his own seat.
“Diplomacy? International relations?”
He waved the suggestions away. “What better diplomacy is there than giving your allies the best sweets they’ve ever tasted?”
“Knowledge of trade and economics, then.”
“Simple. After we’ve given them a taste of the best sweets, they’ll be willing to give us anything we need in exchange for a supply of their own.” Kamaran nodded to himself. “Yes, I think Teta is the woman for me.”
She gave him a dry, amused smile. “Kamaran.”
“Rana,” he answered in kind, propping a hand under his chin.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I think you mean brilliant.” He winked, then grinned at the way she fought the widening of her own smile as she rolled her eyes.
I don’t think any woman I’ve met before has ever been so unafraid of expressing themselves. Even Aida was reserved until provoked.
He froze as a sudden realization washed over him. “You called me Kamaran.”
Rana stilled, her eyes widening as a rosy blush appeared on her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. Aida always calls you that, and I suppose it just kind of…slipped out.”
His eyebrows rose. “You know Aida?”
“Of course. That’s why I’m here.”
Kamaran nodded slowly.
I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised. Aida is a princess, after all. It would make sense that she would have friends amongst the upper class. It also explains why Rana was so set on disliking me from the beginning.
“I really am sorry, Your Majesty,” Rana continued, obviously mistaking his silence for displeasure.
“Don’t be. It’s nice to be reminded every once in a while that I do, in fact, have a name.
” He emphasized the words with a self-deprecating laugh that cracked slightly at the hard lump of emotion that suddenly appeared in his throat.
Other than Yasmin’s forced attempt at familiarity, the last time his name was used in casual conversation was the night before his father passed.
Her head tilted to the side, as if she were trying to solve a particularly interesting puzzle. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged, trying for a cool, nonchalant attitude.
“It’s generally frowned upon for subjects to refer to their rulers by anything other than titles and honorifics.
Names are reserved for family usage, and, well, I don’t have that.
” His efforts at remaining unaffected were thwarted by the rebellious tears that were trying to stage a coup in the corner of his eyes.
He blinked, switching tactics to humor instead.
“I’m a poor orphan Sultan in need of a family, hence, the contest.”
The corners of her mouth pulled down into a frown, and he had the uncomfortable feeling that she could see past his mask into the raw corners of his heart that he kept hidden. “You’re allowed to be sad, Kamaran,” she said softly.
A bitter laugh escaped him. “No one wants a sad Sultan. The people want strength. Stability. Economic growth and peaceful borders. Heirs that promise a peaceful transfer of power down the line.” He took a shuddering breath.
A warning voice in the back of his mind shouted that he was being too free with his emotions, that he was sharing too much, but now that he had started, he couldn’t bring himself to care.
“Father was barely cold before I was being ushered into a room with the Council of Viziers and plans were being made for my coronation. The crown was on my head the moment his body was sealed in his tomb. Grief is a luxury, and one that I can’t afford if our country is going to maintain the health and prosperity that Father worked so hard to bring about.
The people already regard me as a disappointment; I don’t need to add weakness to my list of crimes. ”
Rana’s eyes glistened with unshed tears that matched his own, and he both hated and craved the empathy he saw there. “He was your father. I doubt anyone would blame you for grieving his death.”
“Not as long as the actual grieving took place behind closed doors,” he amended.
“But on the outside, the country still needed to function. Life didn’t stop just because Father no longer has a part in it.
People still wanted reassurance that everything was going to continue just the way it had before. A Sultan doesn’t have time to mourn.”
The words were hardly eloquent, and he doubted whether they were even coherent, but in the silence that followed, Kamaran felt a weight rise from his chest, as if he had been suffocating so slowly that he had hardly realized it was happening.
“I lost my parents, too.” Rana’s voice was quiet.
“I’m sorry,” he started.
She shook her head. “I’m not telling you to diminish your feelings, but because I want you to know that I understand, at least a little. No one should ever have to walk through something like that alone.”
He shrugged a shoulder. “It’s been almost two months. I should probably be over it by now.”
“A loss like that never really goes away—and there’s no reason it should. You’ll never stop loving your father, which means that you’ll always feel the ache that comes from having nowhere for that love to go. It will get easier to manage with time, but it will always be a part of you.”
Kamaran blew out a long breath and swiped away the lone tear that refused to be contained. “Those are some wise-sounding words.”
“My Teta is a wise woman.” Rana slid the plate of Adhavian Delight closer to him. “And foremost among her wise sayings is that a sweet treat can fix almost anything.”
He eyed the plate cautiously. “I won’t incur your wrath by touching your plate again?”
She smiled. “There’s no wrath, just desserts.”
Kamaran chuckled at the callback to their first meeting as he carefully selected another piece of candy—green this time, with bits of pistachio hidden in the soft, chewy center. “I don’t suppose you would be willing to forget this all happened, would you?”
Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Why?”
“Not everyone needs to know that their Sultan can be so easily manipulated by a plate of candy.”
She made a show of looking around. “There’s a Sultan here? I only see a Kamaran.”
The words hit him with far more of a punch than she likely realized, and Kamaran knew, in that moment, that he was done for. He was like a man who, after stumbling about in a desert, had finally caught sight of an oasis, and he would do everything within his power to reach it.
Which means, he realized with a sinking feeling, that I need to make sure she wins the contest. Does she even want to?
She’s been avoiding everything but the weekly challenges.
On the other hand, her presence here would imply that she’s at least comfortable with the possibility of winning, despite her initial opinion of me.
That seems to have changed, but is it enough?
I don’t think my heart could handle it now if it were anyone else.
But then again…what happens if she does win and then discovers the truth?
“Kamaran?”
He blinked, belatedly registering that she had asked him a question. “What?”
She shook her head and smiled, unaware of the storm of emotions swirling in his chest. “I asked if you were ready for the rest of the story.”