Chapter 7
Two days passed, and Aisha didn’t leave her rooms. Meals arrived on trays carried by silent attendants who left as quickly as they came.
She spent many hours with her forehead pressed against the cool glass of the narrow window, watching the world outside.
She missed the chatter of her siblings and the endless company.
All she heard now were her own thoughts—and they weren’t kind.
A knock at the door startled her. Rising quickly, she smoothed her gown and went to open the door. Tariq stood there, tall and composed, with dark circles enclosing his eyes.
‘You haven’t left your rooms,’ he stated plainly.
She folded her arms. ‘Where should I go?’
‘Anywhere you like. It’s not a prison.’ He exhaled. ‘Unless, of course, you’ve changed your mind and wish to return to Avanid.’
He was testing her. Gods, she wanted to take him up on that offer. But then what? Nothing would change if none of them were prepared to sacrifice their happiness. Avanid needed this wedding to happen. ‘I’ve not changed my mind. Have you?’
He shook his head.
‘I’m surprised your parents haven’t changed it for you,’ she said.
He looked past her into the room. ‘I’ve arranged a feast tonight. We call it a majlis, a gathering to welcome new guests and show honour.’ He paused. ‘It’s important the king and queen see you accepted by the nobility. If the court welcomes you, it will show people that this union has merit.’
Aisha didn’t know whether to be reassured or alarmed by this. ‘What would I need to do at this… majlis?’
‘Meet people. Talk. Maybe dance.’
She frowned. ‘I don’t know any of your dances. Lilah knows all of them, along with your traditions and customs.’
He leaned against the doorframe, appearing to relax a little. ‘Princess Zara was rather confident in her plan, wasn’t she?’
Aisha dropped her gaze. ‘Lilah was the obvious choice.’
‘Not for me.’
She couldn’t find it in her to look up.
‘I’m confident they’ll like you,’ Tariq said.
She forced herself to meet his gaze. ‘Your reassurance would mean more if the king and queen weren’t so blatantly opposed.’ She watched the discomfort play out on his face. ‘You knew they wouldn’t approve. You just didn’t communicate it.’
‘Would you have come here if I did?’
‘No.’ She bit her lip.
He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. ‘Then I did the right thing.’
Aisha unfolded her arms. ‘I need to know you won’t just throw me to the sharks tonight.’
‘I’ll remain at your side throughout the whole evening, if that’s what you want.’ He sounded sincere.
She stared at him. Of course she had to say yes. She couldn’t hide away in her room forever. ‘I’ll need something to wear.’
He straightened, nodding. ‘I’ve organised a permanent attendant for you. I’ll send her to help you. Whatever you need, she’ll organise it.’
Aisha felt her hostility towards him lessen. ‘Thank you.’
‘I’ll see you later.’ With that, Tariq left.
Later that afternoon, Aisha had just finished having a wash when there was another knock at the door. Wrapping herself in a robe, she walked over to the door.
‘Who is it?’
‘Your attendant,’ a woman answered.
Aisha opened the door to find a tall attendant standing there, silks draping her arm and tray in hand. The scent of herbal tea drifted into the room. The woman’s hair was cropped close to her head, her posture precise, her eyes light brown. Aisha guessed her to be in her late twenties.
‘Your Highness,’ she said, inclining her head to show respect without the tray moving at all. ‘My name is Maryam. Prince Tariq sent me to help prepare you for the evening.’
Aisha stepped aside. ‘Come in.’
Maryam entered, setting the tray on the small table by the window. Steam rose from the hammered-brass pot. She poured the tea, her movements as controlled as her expression.
‘To calm the nerves,’ she said, handing a cup to Aisha.
The porcelain was warm to the touch and instantly comforting. ‘Thank you.’ Aisha carried it over to the dressing table.
Maryam busied herself with the folds of fabric she had brought. ‘These silks were selected for their quality and colour. Gruisean nobility normally wear subtler shades, but this soft blue will honour your Avanid heritage.’ She held it up to show it.
‘It’s beautiful,’ Aisha said, finding a smile.
‘I am pleased you like it. Now we can begin.’ Maryam gestured towards the dressing table. ‘Take a seat. I will start with your hair.’
Aisha felt herself relax into the female company she had missed so much.
Maryam’s fingers moved through Aisha’s hair with practised ease. At one point, she started to hum, and it reminded Aisha of Lilah. Always humming. She watched the attendant pin her hair back in the mirror.
‘Now for your face,’ Maryam said when she was done.
She went to mix powders in a small dish, then traced colour over Aisha’s eyelids with a soft brush. Then she used kohl to darken the lashes and added a rose colour high on her cheeks.
Satisfied with her work, Maryam wiped her hands on a cloth before fetching the silks draped across the bed.
The gown shimmered when she lifted it. The fabric felt luxurious against Aisha’s skin as she slipped it over her head.
Maryam adjusted the folds and smoothed each crease until it lay perfectly.
She then added heavy jewellery at Aisha’s throat and wrists.
Aisha found the weight suffocating.
When she was finished, Maryam stepped back to look at her properly. ‘I believe you are ready, Your Highness.’
Aisha stared at her reflection in the mirror, and a stranger stared back. It was all so unfamiliar. ‘They’ll approve of this?’ she asked Maryam, turning to her. ‘The nobility?’
Maryam’s eyebrows rose ever so slightly. ‘Yes, Your Highness.’ She returned the empty cup to the tray. ‘When you are ready, I will escort you to the banquet courtyard. The prince is waiting for you there.’
Aisha didn’t think she would ever feel ready.
She looked around for her silk gloves, hoping Maryam wouldn’t ask about them. The attendant watched her put them on but didn’t say a word.
‘Are you ready, Your Highness?’ Maryam asked.
‘Ready.’
Tariq paced in front of the doors that opened to the banquet courtyard, exchanging pleasantries with passing guests as they entered. He could feel the quiet whispers already brewing on the other side. Kaidon was standing off to one side, watching him.
‘She should be here by now,’ Tariq said.
‘It’s early,’ Kaidon replied. ‘The guests aren’t going anywhere.’
Approaching footsteps had Tariq looking up again.
His feet stilled when he spotted Aisha walking towards him.
Her dark hair had been pinned back, and colour edged her eyes, making them look sharp and luminous.
His gaze fell to her painted lips, then to her gown, light enough to catch the glow of the hall’s lamps.
The neckline was modest, edged in silver thread, with long fitted sleeves that tapered to her wrists.
A wide belt cinched her waist, with delicate chains trailing down the front.
It was beautiful, but it was also deliberate.
Bold enough to remind the room she was Avanid royalty and restrained enough to silence accusations of ostentation.
He also noticed the gloves.
‘You’re staring,’ Kaidon whispered to him. ‘In a creepy way.’
Tariq quickly averted his gaze, not looking at her again until she was standing in front of him. The stirring in his chest was most unwelcome.
‘What do you think?’ Aisha asked, turning in a circle.
He ran his eyes briefly over her. ‘You look nice.’
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kaidon look up at the ceiling.
The words had come out flatter than he’d intended.
Perhaps he was trying to make up for the fact that he’d been caught staring.
It wasn’t the gown—it was her. It had been the same when he first arrived at Khorasan Palace, when he had spotted her on the balcony.
She had a way of holding a person’s attention.
Perhaps it was one of her covenweaver abilities.
‘Thank you.’ There was definitely disappointment in her voice. ‘You look nice also.’
He regretted his choice of compliment. Nice was not beautiful, and she was beautiful. But it was too late to do anything about it now.
His own attire was simple in comparison: a tailored indigo tunic trimmed in gold thread, a leather belt with a silver clasp, and black trousers.
‘Anything I need to know before we go in?’ she asked.
He glanced at the doors. ‘I’m sure I’ll think of something once we’re in there.’ He offered his arm. ‘Just follow my lead. Tell me you’re thirsty if you need to exit a conversation at any point, and we’ll go and get you a drink.’
She took his arm as if she had done it a hundred times before. The warmth of her touch reached him through the fabric.
Kaidon stepped up to the doors and pulled them open. Tariq felt the weight of the nobility’s eyes on them as they entered, speculating. Aisha carried herself well, back straight and head high. He prayed that strength would last the evening.
‘Let’s start with an easy one,’ he whispered, steering her towards some members of his family.
They paused their conversation when they saw him approaching.
‘May I present His Excellency Eyad and Her Grace Kalila. My aunt and uncle.’ He gestured to Aisha.
‘This is my esteemed guest all the way from Avanid, Princess Aisha.’
Aisha bowed her head. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you both.’
Kalila’s smile was immediate. ‘What a pretty thing you are.’ Then to Tariq, ‘Much prettier than I was expecting from your mother’s description.’
Aisha was quick to reply. ‘In the queen’s defence, she met me straight off the ship after a bout of seasickness. Her assessment at the time was probably fair.’
Eyad barked out a laugh, nearly spilling his drink. ‘A royal with a sense of humour is a rare find these days.’ He leaned towards Tariq. ‘I must say, I am a bit surprised you picked a funny one.’