by Neha Yazmin
“Of course, brother.”
She couldn’t find it in her to call him ‘Your Highness’ and it didn’t sit well with him. But Leesha loved it when Malin called him ‘brother’, so he couldn’t do anything but look at her fondly whenever she addressed him as such.
“Thank you. Your sister, the Queen, has had the most brilliant idea about strengthening Adgar’s alliance with Khadak,” he’d said, smiling. “And is hoping that I could write to my aunt, Queen Noora, proposing that the Crown Prince of Khadak marry into our family. Nothing could unite the two Kingdoms better.”
Malin’s heart had dropped. For ten whole seconds, she couldn’t find words.
“But I’m too young for him!” she said when she could finally speak. “I’ve only just turned fifteen and it’s still too young to marry—”
“Calm down, Princess,” he chuckled. “She doesn’t mean for you to marry Ty. Like you said, you’re too young for marriage, for him. She was thinking of one of the twins, actually. They both showed an interest in him when he came for our wedding.”
He showed no interest in them, she’d thought, but rather, he proposed marriage to Aaryana. During her trial.
“Yes, but how will Leesha decide which one…?”
Sarsha and Ash didn’t look identical, not when you looked closely; they simply looked like sisters. But they were one person, really. How could you halve them for someone they both wanted?
“They both seemed equally enamoured by Prince Tyross,” Malin mumbled. “If he were to pick one of them himself, the other would be devastated.” Malin had tried her best to not look daggers at him.
“Indeed,” he said. “That’s why it’s better for your Queen to choose the best twin for this match.”
She chewed on her lip. “Brother, aren’t relations between Adgar and Khadak strong enough already?” she’d dared ask. “Does Leesha need to hurt any of her sisters?”
“I said the same thing”—I bet you did, Malin thought sarcastically—“but your sister was quite impressed by Ty this summer, and thinks he’d be the perfect husband for one of her sisters. And a great ally.”
Oh really? If Leesha found him so wonderful, why did she choose you over him?
“She just needs to decide which twin will take the rejection better. Which is why I am holding you up now—who do you think it should be?”
“I don’t know, brother.”
She didn’t want any part in this immoral plan. She didn’t think Prince Tyross would want to—should have to—marry the sister of the woman he’d once desired. Sadly, Malin had heard enough about Queen Noora to know that Tyross would have to do it, anyway. His mother would insist upon it.
“I’ll have to think about it.”
“Of course, sister,” Parth said. “Tell me when you have decided. And I do hope your headache goes away once you’ve locked yourself in the dark. Make sure to stay there until it does.”
There was a menacing glint in his eyes that sent a blast of icy water down her spine, and it was all she could do to not throw herself into a sprint to get as far from him as possible.
The lack of curls in her new black hair meant that Aaryana could go back to sporting a high ponytail or bun. As Jeena helped her get ready for dinner, though, she found that she missed the curtains that the curls used to form around her face. It had been like a barrier between her and the Court, keeping her separate from the Roshdani nobility, reminding everyone, especially herself, that this was not where she belonged.
Now that the wall had fallen away, she felt exposed. Like she would assimilate into Roshdan completely. She didn’t like the feeling.
But it was too late to take out all the pins and unwind the elaborate bun that her maid had fashioned on top of her head—she’d end up being late for the evening meal. And the last thing she wanted was to have all eyes turn to her as she returned to the dining room after her bout of illness. Especially when it would be the first time everyone saw her with her dark tresses.
The ladies would assume she’d purposefully delayed her arrival to draw everyone’s attention to her new appearance—no one liked a show-off.
She left her chambers wondering if the change in her appearance would anger or annoy Wyett. Was he even going to be at the dinner table, knowing that she was likely to turn up, too? Had he decided how he was going to react to her return? All eyes would be on the two of them… As it turned out, everyone at the feast ended up watching Rozlene and Erisa. Mother and daughter had finally returned to Court.
When Aaryana entered the dining hall, only half the chairs were occupied. After stalling briefly at the sight of Rozlene and her daughter, she headed straight to the empty seat next to Erisa. She and Rozlene were talking to Lisbeth and didn’t seem to notice Aaryana sitting close by. Either that, or they hadn’t recognised her.
She kept quiet as the rest of the empty spaces around the table filled, listening to Lisbeth listing everything that Rozlene and Erisa had missed at Court. It wasn’t long before Aaryana’s name came up; Lisbeth spoke of her mysterious stomach bug as though she wasn’t in the room. Aaryana realised that she looked so different that even eagle-eyed Lisbeth had failed to recognise her. Which suited her just fine.
Aaryana felt rather than saw Seth and Wyett come in, and when she suspected Wyett was watching her, she looked up to find him sitting directly across the table from her, staring. He obviously knew exactly who she was. Had he known it straightaway? Or had he spotted an unfamiliar person and scrutinised her until he figured out that it was the girl that he’d threatened earlier that day?
Quickly, she dropped her eyes, but she could still feel his gaze on her face. She thought that Seth was watching her, too, from his seat next to his brother. When she glanced his way, Seth smiled and gave her a little wave, both of which she returned warmly. He must have followed his brother’s gaze, wondering why the Crown Prince was staring at a black-haired girl, and eventually recognised her. If he’d known it from the moment he’d stepped into the room, Aaryana was sure that he would have come to ask her if she was feeling better.
He couldn’t come over now, though, seen as dinner was being served and the King had started eating. Aaryana ate quietly, happy to eavesdrop on the conversations around her, and indifferent to Wyett’s stare.
As the sweet dishes were being brought to the table, Erisa finally realised that it was Aaryana sitting beside her. “Lady Aaryana, is that you?” she asked, half-chuckling in surprise.
“I’m glad to see you back, Lady Erisa.”
Aaryana accepted a slice of apple tart from a servant before smiling at Erisa, the girl whose hair colour she now shared.
“I wanted to say hello, but you were talking to Lady Lisbeth and I didn’t want to interrupt.”
Indeed, Rozlene was still in deep conversation with Lisbeth and the others.
Erisa shook her head in bewilderment. “I honestly didn’t recognise you.” She giggled, looking Aaryana over. She seemed friendly and harmless enough. “What have you done to your hair?”
The carefree expression fell from her face when Aaryana said, “The same thing you did to your hair.”
Erisa froze for a few short seconds before her forehead creased. “What I did to… what are you talking about?” She shook her head and made a dubious face.
Aaryana smiled as she took a bite of her sweet and sour tart, still feeling Wyett’s eyes on her. Erisa’s secret was going to come out soon enough.
Chapter 8
“Let me tell you of the Princess of the Sea.
From the depths of the ocean came she.
Her lullabies were such, you see,
They lulled great men to sleep.
Yet, she fell in love with a man so ordinary,
And he gave her his heart full with bravery.”
Malin flipped to the first chapter of the Tale of the Sea Princess on Friday morning, wondering if the entire story would be told in rhyming verses, just as the opening epigraph had been. She wanted a clear picture of t
he Sea Princess’s life, and what it might tell her about the sea folk, not a glorified poetic version of it.
She had snuck out of her chambers after taking breakfast in her room to retrieve the book from the library—it was a dry day and she was feigning her migraine again—and she hoped she hadn’t risked being caught out of bed for something that would be useless in her mission.
If she wasn’t certain that Parth was swimming laps in the Pool, she would have looked over her shoulder constantly, fearing that he’d slither up behind her. He swam in the Palace Pool on Fridays; it was how he preferred to exercise and stay fit.
“I never much liked swordplay or running to keep in shape,” he’d tell anyone that queried his Friday morning routine.
Luckily, she wasn’t disappointed by the Tale. Although this was her first time reading it, the words were so familiar that she felt as though she’d read them countless times. The Sea Princess was such a popular fictional figure; most people thought they knew her story inside out.
The question was: Was she indeed a fictional character or had she existed in real life, a long time ago, somewhere faraway from Adgar?
Malin finished the book quickly—it was a children’s story, after all. There was just one detail that she’d forgotten from her childhood, but it was very significant to her investigation: The Sea Princess could sing people to sleep and wake them up when she wanted to.
It had been a long time since Wyett had dreamed of fire and woke up smelling smoke, but the best thing to do was to not think about it. Especially not about the people that had been burning. Stop!
He turned onto his stomach and buried his face into his sweat-dampened pillow. Still, the dream roared in his head. It would haunt his every thought, before the fire devoured the world around him, his father, his siblings. His Kingdom. Stop!
Wyett rolled off his bed, hoping the marble floor would cool him down. It did, a little. The floors would be icy soon enough, which would help. Summer was ending; winter would be here in no time. Just setting foot on the freezing cold marble would calm him.
But with roaring fires being left to burn in every fireplace in the Palace, there would be flames everywhere he looked, and they’d force him to relive the nightmares he thought had left him forever. Of course, they hadn’t left him; they never would. They were a part of him. Stop! Think about something else.
Pressing his cheek to the smooth marble, he pushed his thoughts into a different direction. Fire, but a different aspect of it. Eternal fire. It was just as well that they had eternal fire in Roshdan, considering how low the temperatures dropped in winter. If it wasn’t for the ever-burning flames, the poor would die from not having enough wood to burn. The winter season lasted an eternity, firewood didn’t.
Roshdan didn’t have much of an autumn, no in-between season when it wasn’t too hot or too cold. Wyett’s mother used to joke about how Roshdan was a one-season Island. “You only have winter,” she’d say. “Your so-called summer is just a winter that isn’t freezing.” She was right—it was never hot in Roshdan.
The late Queen had been right about a lot of things. The only thing she’d been wrong about was Wyett. “I believe in you,” she’d tell him all the time, “I trust you.” She shouldn’t have.
The nightmare reinstated itself behind his eyelids, burned his very soul. Stop! Think. About. Something. Else. Someone else—you know who. Now.
Grudgingly, he turned his thoughts to the Adgari. Anger towards her temporarily exorcised the ghosts of his past—her ever-changing hair, her mouth full of lies, her eyes looking greedily at his father’s Crown—and as he let his hatred of her crackle through him, he found the peace of mind to flood out the nightmares.
As Wyett slowly rose to his feet, he felt a heightened level of loathing towards the foreigner. She was the reason he’d been thinking about fire when he’d retired for bed last night.
The meeting with the King had ended quickly. There wasn’t much to catch her up on—Wyett hadn’t been able to learn anything of note while she’d been sick, and she clearly hadn’t done any investigative work from her chambers—and the King had dismissed them with a “goodnight” and a “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Aaryana.”
“Wait,” Wyett had blurted out.
His father halted at the hidden door that opened to the secret passageway back to his bedchamber. The girl stopped at the front door.
“I need a word with you,” Wyett said to the Adgari. “Goodnight, Father,” he added when the King nodded and left the room.
Wyett was sure that his father was concealing a smug smile.
“Has Your Highness decided to kill me now?” she asked in a sickly sweet voice.
“What?”
Then he remembered their conversation that morning. I want you dead. How quickly he’d forgotten; seeing your enemy change their hair to match your childhood friend’s tresses apparently meddled with your memory. Shame flickered to life in his chest. He didn’t want her to die, not really—he wasn’t a tyrant, or so disrespectful of human life that he’d want to end every soul that he loathed. He wished her gone, out of his life, yes. But not dead. Of course, not.
And despite all the things she’d said in retaliation—lies, he was certain they were lies; she didn’t wish for death, didn’t still love her former Combat Master—she hadn’t deserved it when the Crown Prince of her new home told her that he wanted her dead.
“I, well, no. I didn’t mean it. I apologise for my cruel words.”
“You’re sorry?” she asked, brows raised.
He nodded reluctantly, irritated by having to repeat himself, to dwell on this topic for longer than necessary.
“You didn’t mean what you said or didn’t mean to say it out loud?”
Wyett gritted his teeth. “Both,” he said, barely moving his lips.
She did it so easily—made him angry. Why did she have to be like that?
“That’s what you wanted to talk about?” She was smiling now, as smug as his father had seemed a minute ago. “To tell me you don’t want me dead, and that you didn’t mean to say it?”
“No,” he snapped.
“No? Then, what did you want to talk about, Your Highness?” She batted her eyelids, smiled sweetly.
He wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her. She seemed to gather this and her eyes widened in fear. Her mouth parted and her face paled.
Wyett stared. It didn’t make sense for her to be this afraid of his wrath; she’d never been intimidated by him before, and he’d been more furious with her in the past than he was at that precise moment. He was about to ask her if she was alright, when her hands slowly rose to cover her mouth.
That’s when he realised she was looking past him. The only thing behind him was his father’s desk, and behind that was the window. He turned around, and as he did so, the girl walked past him to look out of the window and up at the sky.
Before he could say a word, she spun around, almost broke the office door off its hinges, and ran out of the room. He heard her pounding down the stairs and found himself sighing and following after her.
By the time he caught up with her in the gardens, she’d sunk to her knees, teary eyes staring up at the night sky.
“The guards at the door said you threatened to gut them with your bare hands if they didn’t let you out,” he murmured, eyeing the lantern by her feet—the guards had complained about her snatching it from them.
The Adgari jumped to her feet and looked at him aghast, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“How does this not frighten you?” she demanded. “The sky’s on fire. The sky is burning.” She shook her head, hands on her chest. “Unless… Do you not see it? Maybe it’s just me that can see it…”
Wyett refrained from saying anything.
Then, she whispered to herself, “The world will drown and the sky will catch fire.”
“What?”
She was watching the sky again, muttering to herself, the words rushing out.
“The sky has caught fire, so does that mean the world is drowning? Is Adgar drowning?”
“What are you talking about?” Wyett asked, shaking his head.
But she didn’t respond. She was speaking the same words over and over, under her breath. The world will drown and the sky will catch fire. Adgar will drown or it will burn. The sky will burn. We have to leave. We have to get far away from here. We have to get Seth and go!
“What nonsense!” He went and stood in front of her, but she didn’t look at him, or stop talking to herself.
“We need to leave. We must wake Seth and get away from here.”
Wyett grabbed the tops of her shoulders and squeezed, hard. It seemed to startle her enough to shut her up, and she blinked at him. He brought his face close to hers and waited for her breathing to calm down.
When it did, he asked her, “What are you talking about?”
“The prophecy,” she said quietly.
There was genuine fear in her eyes. Her skin was as pale as the moon, and cold—he could feel it through the thin fabric of her sleeves. He withdrew his hands immediately, stepped back, and wiped his hands on his pants. If she hadn’t lapsed into momentary insanity, she would have found it rather insulting that he felt as though he had to clean his hands after touching her.
“What prophecy?”
“The world will drown in the ocean,” she said in a hollow voice, “and the sky will catch fire. And that—” she pointed at the sky with a shaking finger “—is the sky on fire.”
Aaryana woke up smelling smoke. She was covered in sweat as though the Nidiyans’ huge fire had been roaring beside her bed all night. She sat up and guzzled down the pitcher of water on her nightstand and fell back on top of her sheets. She could still see the flames from the night sky; the ceiling of her room seemed to glow yellow from the fire from her memory, from the fire in her dream last night. Last night…
She never got to find out what Wyett had wanted to talk to her about, what with the sky bursting into flames. The Crown Prince probably wanted to know what she’d said to make Erisa so edgy at dinner. She had avoided the girl’s questioning glances, deflected her cryptic queries, and made a prompt exit from the dining room once she’d finished her apple tart.
