The Prince
The thick doors swung open, slow and ominous.
I strode inside the throne room, where light cascaded into the chamber from the windows circling the ceiling.
When night fell, they only served to make the room even more beautiful, the twinkling stars visible to all who looked up.
It had been a month since I’d stepped onto Northern soil, and the moment my boots had touched the white sand, a heaviness had filled my chest. Advisers and commanders were lined up, their attention burning into me.
Yet when I glanced toward them, they looked down.
I stopped before the velvet-covered throne.
It was large and spread out for the shah, who rested on it as though it were a bed.
A low table sat before the throne, adorned with a bowl of violet grapes, the shah’s favorite.
“Shah Jihangir,” I said, breaking the tense stillness. “I have come to report.”
“Wazir Elmas has filled me in on the occurrences.” My father leaned forward to grasp a round grape. He popped it into his mouth, then chewed with precise slowness. “I asked you to bring me Kasim as a prisoner so I could slay him myself.”
“Bahir—”
“I gave you the order.” His steel eyes flashed.
The thick beard swarming his jaw was oiled and brushed.
He was still strong despite abandoning the battlefield years ago.
The silver ring of shahs passed down for generations circled his finger, and the polished lapis stone glinted in the light as he reached for another grape.
I knew how proud he was of it. How hard he’d worked to ensure it came to him.
“I did my best to fulfill my duty.”
“I am sure.” The scorn that always lurked on his face deepened. “Then let me inform you of the news.”
I stiffened. The words brought forth a sense of foreboding. He only ever “informed” me of my punishments. Even if I’d failed him the slightest bit, the recompense was far worse.
“We are considering an engagement ceremony.”
My blood froze. My father’s lips curved up.
“Wazir Elmas told me of his desires. I was just about to give him my response when you arrived.”
My eyes snapped to the wazir, his lanky figure a hovering shadow at the edge of my father’s seat. His cunning brown eyes met mine before he glanced toward the opening doors. I followed his gaze. Bazmara entered. Her rosy cheeks darkened at the sight of the council.
“I apologize, my shah. I didn’t realize.”
Wazir Elmas smiled, eyeing her in a way that made me want to tear him apart limb by limb.
My father waved her away, and my sister sent me a desperate stare before leaving the chamber.
She hadn’t greeted us at the entrance with my mother, but I knew she must have come to see me after hearing of my arrival.
Wazir Elmas spoke up. “An engagement ceremony is just what we need, my shah. It will distract the people from the fact that our crown prince is marrying a Southern—”
“Leave us.” The air crackled as the two words left my mouth.
Wazir Elmas’s lips clamped together, and the thick brown hair of his mustache twitched.
Silence descended as my eyes remained on my father, never leaving him.
He stared back, his pinched brow smoothing as he waved the others away.
The men shuffled out, and the doors closed with a bang, leaving just the two of us.
“You promised me.” I detested that I sounded betrayed. After all these years, after everything he’d done, after everything he’d made me do, I should never have trusted him.
“You failed to accomplish your mission in full.”
“I protected Bahir and vanquished our enemies.”
Shah Jihangir shot up from the seat. His cobalt robes covered in embroidered gold pooled around him as he stepped down from the raised platform.
He approached me with those thudding steps that used to drive fear into my heart so many moons ago.
He used to look so imposing, steel-gray eyes sharp as his shamshir, proud head swiveling to stab me with his weapon of a gaze, his height towering over me at my young age.
But now, as he stopped before me, he had to tilt his head up.
Those gray eyes had dulled. And fury replaced the power he had once possessed.
His hold on me was slipping, and he was grasping whatever he could to keep the strings.
“Bazmara is past the age to be coddled. She should have been married long ago.”
At twelve, the first time you tried? Or thirteen, to a man who was old enough to be her grandfather? I banished the words building on my tongue, gritting my teeth instead.
“Wazir Elmas has connections that work in our favor. And his nephew, Farmandeh Bechar, is in command of many of our troops. His word holds sway. If we have him in our palm, his nephew has no choice but to obey us.”
Shah Jihangir was attempting to keep all his warriors as his puppets. The only thing that mattered was servitude.
“No,” I said.
“No?” he repeated.
“You said you would keep Bazmara out of your schemes as long as I did what you asked.”
The shah clicked his tongue in disapproval. “You did not complete your mission to my satisfaction.” His expression turned calculating, burning a trail of loathing through me. “If not Bazmara, her younger sister will do.”
My hands clenched as I stepped forward to close the distance between us. I spotted the eager gleam racing through his features. He’d spied the rage I worked so hard to conceal.
“She is a child,” I whispered, my tone so scathing it burned my own ears.
Shah Jihangir’s lips curved, the expression so similar to one of Bahir’s that it made my gut twist. “I will consider leaving them be if you follow my orders.”
“You said I would be free after the conquest.”
He shook his head, and I could read the unspoken words hovering above him: You will never be free. I was forever his prisoner. As long as his shadow covered the ones I loved, I could never escape him.
“What do you want?”
“To start, I want your allegiance.” Seconds passed, and then he barked, “Kneel.”
I flinched but remained standing.
“Kneel.”
I moved slowly, lowering myself before the tyrant until my knees touched the smooth stone. He towered over me now, as he had all those years ago. A real smile creased his lips. He didn’t want to see my allegiance. He wanted to see me broken.
Hours later, when the sun and moon had greeted each other for the spare minutes they could before darkness blanketed the city, I made my way through the torchlit halls until I entered the door I was searching for.
It was a wide room with plenty of space.
An open window allowed cool air to filter inside.
I turned toward the bed, where two shapes were nestled beneath covers.
I strode forward and flung the cloth away.
A shriek resounded as I grasped the man by his collar and slammed him into the wall.
The woman cried out, her silk robes fluttering as she rushed away.
Wazir Elmas reached out desperately as his courtesan ducked from the room.
I leaned in, crowding his sight with my face—a view I knew he would never forget.
Something about being attacked in your own chamber made your life seem worthless.
That someone could enter your private space and end it any moment they wished.
My fingers curved up, wrapping around his throat.
“Shahzadeh, I beg of you, release me.”
His face was pale in the shadow of night. Sweat trickled from his brow, and his lips blubbered as he continued pleading. I squeezed his throat, effectively silencing him.
“This is your first and only warning,” I said in a slow whisper, ensuring he soaked in every word. “If you dare to look at my sister once more, I will carve out your eyes.”
His face was a sheet of white tinged with green before red began to creep in.
Spit escaped his mouth in his struggle for air.
Just a bit more and his neck would snap.
A surge of satisfaction filled me at the thought.
They would find his corpse in the morning and know the prince of death had struck again.
But he nodded against my hand as best he could.
“I swear,” he wheezed. “I swear it.”
I thrust him away, and he collapsed onto his bed, a mess of coughs and saliva. I moved to the chamber door and cast one last look toward him. Pure fear lurked in his gaze as he watched me.
Good.