Chapter 14
Grey light filtered through the slats of the window, cutting across the rough walls. Aisha blinked a few times as she got her bearings. She was in Ashwaq. She was in Ashwaq and in bed with…
Aisha became aware of the warmth. Warmth and weight.
Looking down, she saw an arm draped over her.
Her lungs stilled when she felt Tariq’s body, solid and grounding, pressed to her back.
His sleepy breaths were slow and even against her hair.
Sometime during the night, that careful distance between them had well and truly disappeared.
She recalled being cold at one point, drawing the blanket up to her ears. Perhaps he had noticed. Or perhaps she had drawn him in too.
She lay still, studying his fingers lightly curled around the fabric of her abaya. If she moved, he would move, and for whatever reason, she wanted him to stay where he was for a little longer.
Perhaps he had been cold also.
Whenever she pictured their marriage, she had never pictured this part. She’d spent plenty of time imagining how they would look together in public and what they would achieve politically but not given much thought to the private moments.
She held her breath when Tariq stirred, his arms curling around her, drawing her closer until every inch of her back was pressed against every inch of his chest.
Breathe.
She probably should have exited the bed, saving them both from embarrassment. But that’s not what she did. She knew the exact moment he woke, because his body tensed. He was supposed to withdraw his arm, but he didn’t.
Neither of them moved.
He likely thought she was still asleep. Perhaps he wanted to try the moment on, like she had.
Summoning her bravery, she turned to face him, moving slowly so she wouldn’t scare him away. His grip loosened, but his arm remained around her. He watched her with a relaxed expression.
‘Are you warm enough?’ he asked, his voice rough with sleep.
Aisha was hot and cold all at once. ‘Yes.’
His gaze never left hers. ‘Good.’ He shifted slightly, but not enough to break the strange, fragile moment. His hold on her wasn’t possessive, just present.
Aisha studied his face in the soft light. He looked different without his usual frown. Younger, maybe. Less like someone carrying the weight of a dynasty.
‘Have you ever imagined what it would be like?’ she asked.
He frowned. ‘It?’
‘Waking up together.’
He considered the question for a moment. ‘I figured we would sleep separately.’
‘Oh.’
‘My parents have always slept in separate quarters.’ He searched her eyes. ‘But something tells me yours didn’t.’
‘Never.’ She found a smile. ‘Of course, this is Gruisea, so we’ll do things the Gruisean way.’
He was silent a moment. ‘I wouldn’t mind doing some things the Avanid way.’
She felt herself melting. Tentatively, she reached up and brushed her fingers along his stubbly cheek, studying the tiny details of his face.
Tariq didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned into her touch.
She traced the line of his jaw, his skin warm against her fingertips.
Never had she touched a man in such an intimate way.
When his gaze moved to her lips, she felt her stomach dip.
‘Are you going to kiss me?’ she asked, needing to know if she was reading the situation correctly.
His throat bobbed. ‘I’m definitely thinking about it.’
Her curiosity outweighed her fear of an unwanted vision.
So far, so good. She tilted her head up slightly, an invitation.
One he accepted. He closed the distance between them, his lips brushing hers.
Gentle, hesitant. Her eyes sank shut of their own accord as a new kind of warmth washed over her, and she moved closer to him. He responded by deepening the kiss.
Aisha inhaled sharply as all the heat gathered. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his sirwal, and—
A knock at the door sent her scrambling away from him. Tariq caught her by the elbow just before she fell off the bed. They stared at each other, breathing fast.
‘One moment,’ Tariq called out to the person at the door. He dragged a hand through his hair as he exited the bed, then threw his clothes on.
Aisha got out of bed also, walking over to the table and standing awkwardly next to it, as if she had spent the night in that very spot. She touched her lips, which still tingled.
When Tariq opened the door, Kaidon was standing there. The guard looked from him to Aisha, and his mouth tugged up at the corners.
‘Well, good morning,’ he said, a coy edge to his voice.
Tariq’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. ‘What is it?’
‘I came to tell you that the miners are returning to work as we speak.’ He looked pleased. ‘You did it.’
Tariq was still for a long moment. ‘Good.’ He nodded slowly. ‘That’s good.’
A frown settled on Kaidon’s face. ‘Really? Because you don’t look very happy.’
‘The king will be happy.’ Tariq reached for his boots. ‘That’s what matters.’ He looked back at Aisha. ‘I need to go to the mine and speak with Jibran before we leave. You can wait here.’
She didn’t want to be left alone again. Joining him at the door, she said, ‘I’ll come with you. Shame to come all this way and never see the mine.’
He looked torn but then nodded. ‘Get your boots.’
The mine looked like a jagged wound carved into the rocky hillside. The air near the entrance was thick with dust stirred up by the line of workers filing into the main tunnel. Their faces were already streaked with grime despite it being the start of the workday.
Tariq and Jibran were talking a few feet away from Aisha and Kaidon. She noted the tension in the prince’s posture.
‘I want men working on the additional reinforcements today,’ Tariq said, trying to compete with the noise of shuffling feet.
Jibran folded his arms across his broad chest. ‘The king won’t like it. He wants the miners mining.’
‘He wanted the mine open.’ Tariq gestured to the entrance. ‘It’s open.’ When Jibran let out a noisy breath, Tariq clapped him on the shoulder. ‘It’s open.’
Aisha’s gaze drifted over the workers in their tattered clothing, exhaustion carved into their faces.
Every time she saw a young boy, her stomach would twist. The youngest ones still had those small hands that should be used for playing, exploring, and learning how to write.
The saddest feature was their eyes, hollowed with routine.
She made eye contact with a boy walking by. His tunic was too large for his thin frame, the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. He stared at her with a dead expression, and she felt a pull to follow him.
‘Where are you going?’ Kaidon asked when she began walking off.
Tariq’s gaze shot to her. ‘Aisha.’
She barely heard him as she reached for the boy’s hand, stopping him before he joined the line of workers.
The moment her fingers wrapped around his, everything shifted.
The people around her vanished, and darkness swallowed her.
The cool morning air was gone, replaced by thick, suffocating heat.
Dust and sweat filled her nose and coated her throat.
The flickering light of oil lamps cast trembling shadows on the walls. Her hands were small and calloused.
She was inside the mine, but not as herself.
A deep, low groan reached her from somewhere within the mine, then the ground beneath her began to shake. The other workers paused as dust rained from the ceiling.
Another groan, followed by a sharp, deafening crack. Shouts rang out. Someone grabbed her arm, jerking her forwards.
‘Run,’ someone shouted, right before dust exploded into the air, burning her throat and choking her lungs.
The sun blinded Aisha as she returned to herself, wrenching her hand from the boy with a violent gasp before stumbling backwards. Strong arms caught her.
‘You’re all right,’ Tariq said quietly into her ear. ‘Easy.’
She couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t she breathe?
He turned her around to face him, eyes searching her face for clues as to what was happening. ‘Breathe,’ he told her.
She finally sucked in a ragged breath, her lungs awakening. Then she began to cough.
Kaidon appeared next to them, looking concerned. ‘What the hell just happened?’
The boy. Aisha whipped her head around, searching for him, but he was nowhere to be seen. ‘Where is he?’
‘Who?’ Tariq asked.
‘The boy.’ Her eyes locked on the mine. ‘We need to get him out.’
Kaidon followed her line of sight. ‘You mean the boy who ran off?’
Aisha looked back at Tariq, eyes pleading. ‘You need to get them all out.’
His eyes moved between hers, confused. Then a look of understanding settled on his face. He drew her closer to him. ‘What did you see?’
Her entire body went cold when he asked that.
‘What did you see?’ His grip on her tightened, as though he meant to squeeze the answer from her.
Why was he asking her that?
‘Aisha.’ Her name came out of him like a plea.
Oh gods. He knows.
Tariq lowered his voice. ‘If you want to save them, then tell me what you saw.’
Her gaze swayed to Kaidon. He, too, was waiting for her reply. They both knew.
Gritting her teeth, she looked back at Tariq. ‘The mine’s going to collapse.’ She grounded her feet. ‘You need to get everyone out.’
Tariq’s eyes widened slightly. Then he nodded, as though deciding something. Releasing his grip on her, he looked over at Jibran. ‘Clear the mine! I need every single person out of there—now!’
Jibran raised his hands in an exasperated gesture. ‘I just sent them in there.’
Tariq waved Kaidon into action. ‘Get as many people out as you can.’
Kaidon took off at a run.
‘Have you lost your mind?’ Jibran asked, marching over to Tariq. ‘You were the one who wanted—’
‘And now I’m telling you to get them out of there.’ Tariq looked over at the supervisors loitering nearby, eavesdropping. ‘Move! Clear that damn mine!’
The man looked at Jibran, who threw his hands up in defeat. ‘Go. Do it.’
Panic bloomed inside Aisha. It felt like nails were being dragged across her brain. The shouts of the foremen echoed against the rock, urgent and sharp, until finally, workers began to exit the mine. They looked around at one another, confusion on their faces.
‘I hope you realise how difficult it’s going to be to get them all back in there,’ Jibran said.
Tariq looked back at Aisha. ‘I’m going to help. Stay here.’
A low rumble reverberated through the ground, making the hairs on the back of Aisha’s neck stand up. The pair looked down at their feet, then up at each other.
‘Kaidon,’ Tariq breathed before taking off at a run towards the mine’s entrance.
Aisha followed him, weaving between the people now pouring out.
‘Kaidon!’ Tariq shouted, pushing through the gathering crowd.
There was a deafening roar before dust and debris exploded from the entrance. Tariq skidded to a stop, hands going into his hair as he watched the cloud of dust rise into the air. Aisha stopped beside him, blinking against the powder.
‘I can’t see him,’ Tariq said, searching.
Movement caught Aisha’s eye. A shadow emerged from the dust, solidifying into a figure. It was Kaidon. ‘There.’ She pointed.
Tariq folded in relief, leaning on his knees for a moment.
‘There are still a few inside,’ Kaidon said when he reached them, coughing into his hand.
Tariq straightened and took hold of the guard’s shoulder as he caught his breath.
Aisha looked around at the clusters of people, confused and scared, and spotted the small boy from earlier, tucked safely beneath someone’s arm. Their eyes met briefly before he was ushered away.
Thank the gods.
Dust swirled in the air, clinging to their skin and settling into the folds of their clothes.
‘We need the names of everyone who’s missing,’ Tariq said. ‘And clear a space for the injured—away from the dust.’
Kaidon nodded, then dashed off again.
Aisha couldn’t hold the question in any longer. ‘How long have you known?’
Tariq shifted his weight to one foot as he dragged his gaze to hers. ‘I didn’t know for sure—’
‘How long?’
He looked almost ashamed. ‘A while.’
‘Is that…?’ She struggled to ask the question because she was afraid of the answer. ‘Is that why you chose me?’
Tariq’s throat bobbed in place of an answer.
She felt sick suddenly. Sick and foolish. ‘I see.’
He had deceived her. Lied. He didn’t just want a better trading partnership or a strong queen at his side. He wanted a covenweaver.