Chapter 41
It was the day of the wedding. Too many maidens to count had gathered around me, both fussing over me and blocking my escape.
From morning until late afternoon. I hadn’t seen Pouran and Mariya all morning, heard nothing of Azar, either.
The younger maidens bathed and lathered me in soaps and oils.
I left the bathroom smelling of pomegranates, the scent filling the air as I walked.
My hair was curled, the front strands pinned back.
They spent a long time on my makeup, the weight of all the products hefty on my skin.
I was convinced I would look like a clown, but later in the mirror I couldn’t help but admire their work.
My eye makeup was smoky with a cat-eye, my waterline traced with black kohl.
My cheeks had been contoured, the bones there appearing sharp.
The blush they placed on my cheeks was subtle, suggestive even, while my lips were dark, a wine red.
It was not a typical wedding look, though neither was my dress.
It took two servants to bring in my gown, which they left hanging on the door of my wardrobe.
I avoided looking at it for most of the morning, but the color caught the corner of my eye.
I couldn’t ignore it. Black. My wedding dress was black.
Fitting, considering this was more like a funeral than a day of love, but still.
Once I had been tied into the dress, the servants pulling on the strings to tie up the corset, my back was erect. I was unable to slouch. They finally left my room when they finished, informing me that I had fifteen minutes before I would be escorted downstairs. The door was, of course, locked.
In the stillness of my room, I found myself standing in front of a full-length mirror.
The dress was an extravagant ball gown, the train six feet long, making it difficult to walk.
The material was heavy, the skirt multilayered.
I hated to admit that the bodice was beautiful.
What looked to be black diamonds covered the entirety of it, with chips of clear diamonds at the top, like stars in the night sky.
The sleeves were sheer and also flecked with diamonds.
They sparkled when the light hit them. The cut of the top was modest but showed my clavicle, which the maidens had massaged with oil, making my skin shimmer in the light.
Atop my head was a tiara made of diamonds and decorated with sapphire stones.
I looked nothing like myself but exactly like a jinn princess.
My fifteen minutes of quiet was soon interrupted by maidens charging into my room and ushering me out, gathering my train and practically carrying me through the corridors to my forced marriage.
It really sank in then, and I made myself as immovable as possible as I begged, “Please, I’ll do anything!
” I gasped as they shoved me out. The shoes they had given me had a high heel, and I could barely walk in them, not with the heavy dress and tight corset.
I had been in a daze until now, hoping I would find a way out.
And now that I was escorted by at least six maidens, with beefy guards surrounding us as we walked through the corridors, I realized it would be impossible for me to escape.
I clamped down on the fear, forcing steady breaths as I noted the different turns we took down the corridors and stairwells.
We stopped in an empty ballroom. On the walls were portraits, paintings of people who looked like my family, but I couldn’t focus on that, because on the other end were glass windows and a set of double doors leading out into a huge garden.
The night sky loomed ahead, tinged with a rusted orange glow.
Then fireworks lit up the sky. Pink. Orange.
Red. Yellow. Each bang skyrocketing my anxiety.
Slowly, the scent of smoke filled the air: bonfire and incense.
Tall lanterns illuminated the outside space, lit up by flames inside glass boxes.
My chest tightened as I studied the scene.
Hundreds of seats, everyone with their backs to me.
Heads of people—things—I had never met. The chairs were made of steel, and red and black flowers had been tied onto each one.
Over the large expanse of the garden, guards in cloaks protected each exit.
A violinist played something similar to traditional Iranian music.
I can’t breathe.
But I had to. Like Zain had told me, I had to just root my feet to the ground and focus on my breathing. Except I was unsteady in my heels, and even stomping caused me to wobble. Pouran entered the room and said something to me, but I couldn’t hear her over my heartbeat.
I need to get out of here.
She shook my shoulder, and I gasped.
“I can’t breathe,” I said.
Pouran pursed her lips and opened her mouth as if to speak. Except, she didn’t. Instead, she slapped me hard across the face. The sting of it shook me, leveled my aching heart. I snatched my hand up to my cheek, shocked.
A maiden I didn’t even notice rushed over to me, makeup in hand, pressing powder into my face.
“Better?” Pouran said.
Yes, actually. I no longer felt like I was dying. I didn’t say that, just nodded limply.
Pouran simply smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Now, when the next song begins, it’ll be time for you to walk to your betrothed.”
“Why do we need to make such a show of it?” I snapped. “There are hundreds of people, things here.” I had imagined the wedding to be a small affair. Just us and Keyon’s family exchanging ridiculous jinn vows. Not what appeared to be a traditional wedding.
“Your union is symbolic. You are the jinn princess, and he one of the most eligible bachelors in the Underworld. Many will want to bear witness to your union.”
I breathed deeply through my nose to stop from screaming. I channeled that energy into my palms, willing flames.
Pouran looked down at my hands, where sparks of fire were emitted. Her eyebrows quirked. “Your magic is weakened in the palace,” she said before stepping closer and whispering what I already knew. “He has warded these walls against it.”
The song outside ended, and a new melody began, louder this time, vibrating through the palace.
Pouran pressed a palm to the small of my back, pushing me toward the open double doors.
One of the maidens handed me a bouquet of black and red roses.
Pouran’s hand was now insistent; she practically shoved me into the gardens.
I stumbled over my train, even with the maidens holding it behind me.
I stole a look over my shoulder, and the same two maidens who had brought it down to my room earlier lifted it in the air to settle it correctly into place.
“If you don’t move in the next five seconds, he will make you and Azar suffer,” Pouran hissed, her voice harsh. “Go, get it over with. Do not be a coward—your mother would hate it.”
My face twisted at her words. My mother would hate this.
But with no way out, I began walking down the aisle.
Strangers stood, turning and watching me walk.
Some looked human, while others had completely black eyes and veined faces.
Most of the guests appeared bored, others unhappy.
This really resembled a funeral. My funeral, as I was walking to the end of the life I once had.
Halfway down, I caught eyes with a familiar face.
Jamshid. He wore a glimmering gold suit. His eyes were tight as he nodded at me.
At the end of the aisle was Keyon. He wore a black tunic with matching diamonds decorating the front. His jaw was set, eyes boring into mine with what appeared to be distaste.
“Great, just amazing,” I muttered to myself. I had to talk to myself, somehow see light in this, or else I would crumble right here in this suffocating dress, with these stupidly thin heels and a train that felt like walking with a duvet on my back.
The music came to a natural end as soon as I stood directly in front of Keyon.
I heard a small gasp and turned. In the front row was Azar.
Her eyes were teary, but pure rage radiated from her.
Her cheeks were pink, eyes narrowed, and even though a solitary tear fell down her heavily made-up face, she shook her head.
Next to her, Zahhak was watching me carefully, an unnatural smile on his face, like a proud parent.
They both wore finery, extravagance that matched my dress.
Across from us, the palace loomed large. And there, far away, were the open doors I had stood in when I spoke to Pouran. She stood by them, so small I could barely see her.
Between Keyon and me was a short man, the officiant.
He stood in front of a table where artifacts meant to bring good luck to the bride and groom were displayed.
A mirror and lit candle sat at the center.
Reflected in the mirror were my and Keyon’s grim faces, with the onlookers behind us.
This supposedly symbolized light and love.
There were other items, such as apples, eggs, and walnuts, in separate bowls, meant to bring fertility.
My mum had taught me about Persian wedding traditions; I had imagined adopting them for my own wedding one day, but not like this.
The officiant smoothed down his black and silver tunic as he told the guests to sit. They obliged, and once everyone was seated, he rattled on about the importance of unions between families. It was all so generic, and ordinary, that I tuned it out.
Keyon continued to glare at me in the mirror as though he was the one being forced into this and not the other way around. I narrowed my eyes right back at him.
I was the one who was being punished for falling in love with Zain—for always, inevitably falling for him. For our souls being fated.
For loving him in this lifetime too. I didn’t even know if he was dead or alive, if he hated me or loved me back. And if I didn’t get myself out of this, I’d never know.
My palms began to heat with that familiar burn.
Your magic is weakened in the palace. He has warded these walls against it.
The walls—but we were not within the walls anymore. And just as I let the flames grow, just before the officiant and Keyon noticed, I heard feral roars.
And then screams.