BY DINNER, MY HAIR was dry and I’d calmed down. This would all be handled by the end of the meal. I hadn’t endured years of training in court etiquette just to let one difficulty ruin my entire life. This was my kingdom.
The royal court milled about in the Great Hall, conversing, waiting for my father and I to be seated before finding their tables. A wave of their thoughts, mostly unclear, surged over me.
“To the high Shazada, much beauty,” a girl said. She was just a year or two younger than myself, displaying a crown of dark braids and a shocking ability to bow so low in such a tight dress.
I hid a smile as I dipped my chin and accepted her wishes, returning my own. “To the daughter of Marzban-Shah, many admirers,” I replied, remembering how she’d turned down a sour proposal. If only I could take her aside for some tips on how to do the same.
Maybe she could help me, the girl thought even as she stood. Her smile trembled and her eyes blinked too much, something I may not have noticed without the thought. Why did she want help? When I stared too long, she blushed and apologized, melting away into the crowd. Only when she turned her back did I remember: she was the Gifted girl. Maybe a part of me had wanted to forget. A very large, guilty part. I swore to myself I would try to help her the moment I resolved my unwanted engagement.
One difficulty at a time.
I moved through the room, greeting everyone who approached.
“To the high princess, a happy marriage.”
“To the Madani family...” I struggled to find a response, “much wealth.”
“To the high Shazada, a blessed marriage.”
I wanted to groan. “To the Berange-Shah... a good day.” It was a disgraceful response, but I couldn’t find it in myself to care. I picked up my pace, making my way toward the raised dais at the front of the room where I would sit with my father and King Amir, and hopefully avoid any further conversation.
When my father and King Amir joined me, I managed a smile, though it was mostly teeth. The king didn’t seem to notice, only nodding as he pulled out his chair. I expected to hear my father’s thoughts about my attitude, even if he didn’t voice them, but there was only silence. Strange.
Across the room, everyone sat at the long tables, and a hush fell. The pressure of their thoughts increased.
Such a pretty dress, an unfamiliar woman’s voice.
This engagement ruins everything, another woman. She was meant to marry my son!
I’d grown accustomed to not reacting during meals, but still I flinched. This wedding would not happen!
With a flourish, the musicians played a rolling trill of excitement to signal the start of the feast, and the silence broke. I breathed a soft sigh as the noise level returned to normal, the music plucking along light and airy. Everyone’s focus returned to their food. Amir patted the hound who lay at his feet.
The first course was served. Stewed venison from my father’s hunt last week, prepared with flavoured sauces, herbs, and spices. The servants held out bowls of water for us to wash our hands before we ate, but Amir waved them away. “I’ve already washed,” he told them.
I blinked when they didn’t react, glancing at my father when Amir dipped his dirty fingers directly into the bread trencher before us, ripping off a piece. The stale bread from the kitchen that served as a thick long plate was meant for holding food, not for eating, but Amir ignored dinner etiquette altogether.
Baba frowned. “Even a king should respect his peers and wash for dinner.”
“Oh, but I have, can you not see?” Amir spread his hands. A hair from his hound that clung to his sleeve drifted down onto the table. He spoke loud enough for the whole room to hear, and those who were listening nodded, returning to heaping their plates with food. Of course he’d washed. How could Baba question him?
“My mistake,” Baba hurried to agree, lifting his spoon. “I do apologize.” The room waited respectfully for him to take the first bite, before they began their meal.
I could’ve choked as another dog hair drifted through the air toward my bowl.
Why is she unconvinced? At Amir’s thought, I stopped watching the hair and smoothed my frown into a peaceful smile, as if all I ever wanted was to sit there and eat. I pretended to bump my bowl, moving it to the left—the hair just missed it—and took a bite. Amir would call for a Severance if he sensed even a whiff of my Gift.
Strange.
The word came through crystal clear, which meant he was still thinking directly about me.
I swallowed my bite, not daring to look up, and scooped another.
She has a strong mind. He had no idea how strong. I’ll have to keep an eye out for her...
The thoughts faded. I focused on breathing. In. Out. Don’t draw attention. Bite after mindless bite. At least if he ever plans to murder me, I’ll have forewarning, I tried to console myself. But it didn’t help. To even think of going through with it... I shook my head, gripping my bowl with both hands to keep them from trembling.
Soon, the notoriety of our guest diminished and the noise tripled as conversations and drinks flowed.
I stayed silent. My father wasn’t one to chat during meals, and Amir was focused on the food as well. The meat tasted like dust in my mouth. The servants served fruit and nuts to cleanse our palates before the next meal. I picked at the grapes.
The next course was more exotic. Roast peacock. Our cook always took every opportunity to impress guests, and there was a generous helping of leeks, onions, and peas incorporated into the sauce that soaked into the bread platter.
I nibbled at the bread, dipping it in the sauce to give it some taste. If Amir had paid me any attention at all, he would’ve noticed my anxiety, but instead he devoured his meal, draining another cup of our finest wine.
Only when he’d picked over the last course full of baked apples, candied pears, and a cheese platter, did Amir settle back into his chair with a belch, and turn to address me, “What are you doing tomorrow, my bride-to-be?”
The term of endearment made my skin crawl. I swallowed, pushing a smile onto my face, though it didn’t reach my eyes. “I thought I’d go for a ride in the morning.” I’d always loved to ride, even more so as my Gift took over. Anything to get out of the castle.
“Oh no, I don’t think so,” Amir said, dipping his dirty fingers in the water bowl finally, though it was too late to be helpful, then wiping them on the bread bowl so that no one else could eat it. “Can’t have the future Queen of Sagh out riding around the country like a vagrant, can we?”
I couldn’t tell if he was using his Gift, or if it was just my fear of disagreeing with him, but I fought to find the right words. “No, I suppose not...”
Amir grabbed the trencher, pulling yet another chunk of bread from the side and dipping it into the last bit of leftover sauce. “Glad that’s settled,” he said through a mouthful. “Don’t you worry now. You’re going to be a very happy bride.”
This time, his Gift swept over me and I had to fight it. He pushed back his chair and stood, making his way out. There was no need for me to pretend my acceptance. He’d grown so used to the effects of his Gift, he’d just assumed. I should be grateful for that. Because if he’d turned back even once, I knew he would’ve seen the fury written all over my face.
I crushed the bread in my hand until it was a solid lump. It was either that or cry in front of the entire court.
I glanced at my father who still sat beside me, stiff and silent. What had Amir done to him? Same wavy white hair and beard, same gold crown perched on his head. Same warm, brown eyes, except the warmth had vanished, leaving a blank expression I’d never seen before.
“Baba,” I whispered so no one would overhear. He started to turn to me. “How can you let this happen?” Hurt slipped into my tone and I had to stop before my voice broke. At my words, his eyes stopped at a point on the table, transfixed. He continued chewing, as if he hadn’t heard me. What had Amir said to make him come to an abrupt halt at even the slightes
t reference to the wedding?
Staring down at my trencher, I tried to eat a few more bites so I wouldn’t be hungry later.
“Can you pass the cheese?” my father said out of nowhere.
Speechless, I lifted the platter and handed it to him. “Do you want the grapes too?”
“No, no,” he replied right away. It felt almost normal. “I have my wine.”
“Of course, Baba,” I whispered, watching him finish his meal and stand to leave.
“Goodnight Arie-zada,” he said, patting my arm. He moved toward the closest door.
“Baba, wait,” I stood on impulse, and followed him out into the hall, before wrapping my arms around him and burying my face in his tunic, feeling his scratchy beard on my forehead.
He tilted his head to peer at my face. “What’s this? What’s come over you?” His voice was gruff, but his thoughts were concerned, Something’s wrong... As he pulled back and unwrapped my arms, his eyes were alert and normal. Had Amir’s spell worn off?
“It’s King Amir,” I babbled. “He’s trying to force me to marry him and he’s convinced you to—”
My father pulled out of my embrace and turned to go.
“Baba, wait!” He didn’t. And worse, I couldn’t hear a single thought from him, as if he couldn’t absorb any conversation about the wedding. What had Amir commanded him?
“Why don’t you hear me?” I cried after him as he rounded the corner. He didn’t respond. He couldn’t. I swallowed back tears, holding onto that thought. It wasn’t his choice. He didn’t mean to leave me alone. It wasn’t his fault.
I ran to my rooms before anyone could see me cry. He couldn’t help me. He couldn’t even help himself.
I went to bed that night wide awake, ignoring the teardrops trailing down my cheeks and hitting my pillow as I wracked my mind for a solution. A way out. I’d do anything—absolutely anything—besides marry the king of lies.
Chapter 5
Arie
WHEN I HEARD HAVAH’S slippered feet come in the next morning, I was ready. I didn’t even roll over. “I’m not getting dressed today Havah, you can go.”
She curtsied. “Yes, Princess Arie.” Ever the obedient one. Unlike me. “I’ll get you some breakfast.”
“Two helpings please,” I called after her before she left the room. “Extra bread and fruit. And cheese!”
Her thoughts were judgmental, but she didn’t say a word, only nodded and left, letting the door swing shut.
It wasn’t long before she came back with a full tray and another servant helping her carry the second. “King Amir requests you join him and your father in the library.”
“Tell him I’m not feeling up to going out.” If he wasn’t in my presence, then I could feasibly disobey without him suspecting my Gift, couldn’t I? “It’s my time of the month. I’ll be staying in my room today.”
I ate as much as I could stand and wrapped up the leftovers, carefully hiding them in the back of my wardrobe. At first, I expected Havah to return or Amir himself to show up, disregarding etiquette that forbid him from entering a lady’s bedchamber, but he must have accepted my excuse because no one came, except Havah to bring the noon meal, and much later dinner. Each time, I asked for extra servings of everything. Though they thought I was acting strangely, they obeyed.
As the day dragged by, I went over my options one last time, making certain this was the best choice.
My father, King Mahdi of Hodafez, was vacant and disconnected from his own kingdom, his own daughter. He couldn’t save me. Our armies weren’t strong enough to fight Amir’s, even if he hadn’t had the advantage of his Gift. They couldn’t save me. My father was well-loved, so others might fight with us. But how could they even begin negotiations with Amir in their midst? He’d seen our weakness and exploited it. No one could save me.
There was only one thing he hadn’t accounted for.
I was not a weak woman. I could save myself.
AS DARKNESS FELL, I had Havah bring me food one last time; who knew how long I’d need my supplies to last. Once finished, I dismissed her. “I’d like to be by myself tonight, you may go. I won’t need you until morning.”
Though extremely offended—it was her turn to stay the night in my outer rooms in case I needed her—she went. That was all that mattered right now.
As soon as she shut the door, I flew to my dressing room. Now that I was finally alone, I needed to hurry.
My travel bag was stuffed to the brim with food and hidden on the back shelf. It was lightweight, but too conspicuous with the intricate designs, beading, and jewels. Ripping them off earlier in the day had felt almost physically painful.
Next, I removed my nightgown and slipped into a shift, followed by a simple gray dress I’d picked out hours ago. It was meant to be embellished with another lace top piece that decorated my arms and shoulders but little else, with a suggestive cut-out over the cleavage. Instead, I pulled on a more modest—and warmer—top piece made of a soft white wool that covered my arms completely and most of my torso. It was difficult to button it in the back without Havah’s help, but I managed, and then added a warm spring cloak to my ensemble as well, just to be safe. Summer was on the horizon, but the nights could be cold. Underneath my skirts I’d pulled on warm leggings and riding boots.
I stepped up to my floor length-mirror, pausing for a moment to study myself. The simple brown cloak over a gray and white dress still looked far too rich for a commoner. I tugged the cape closer together and tied it. My posture screamed nobility. Curving in my shoulders, I lowered my chin, imitating our servants, pulling the hood of the cloak over my head.
It would have to do.
“Why does everything have jewels or lace or trains?” I muttered as I turned and tripped on the excess fabric of the gray dress. Did village women even have trains?
I sighed. Of course they didn’t. Why would they? There was no need for frivolous clothing as a working woman. I swallowed. It wasn’t the thought of working that terrified me, it was the number of unknowns; my mind spun at the uncertainties.
I shook my head. This was for the best—not only for me, but for my father as well. Amir couldn’t very well force my father to marry him. As long as I stayed away, our kingdom would be safe from his clutches.
Turning sideways to see the back of my dress in the mirror, I took the knife I’d used on the bag earlier and carefully cut the train off. Much better. The cloak would cover any jagged edges.
I pulled my long hair back in a braid, winding a strip of leather around the tail.
Focus. No time for fear.
I left the useless gray fabric on the floor of my dressing room. The goal was speed, not secrecy. Once they figured out I was gone, they wouldn’t need to see the evidence of my plan to guess what it was: blend in. Disappear.
Picking up my travel bag, I untied the strings, packing another cloth full of cheese, sliced bread, fruits, and nuts leftover from my last meal.
My eyes caught on the tiara on the dressing table behind me. Back-tracking, I placed my crown deep in the bottom of the bag. A backup in case things didn’t go as planned; another kingdom might be willing to harbor a princess, at least briefly. Returning to the dressing room where I’d discarded the jewels from my travel bag, I stuffed those inside the bag as well, before pulling the drawstring tight. They would fetch a good price, if I couldn’t immediately find work.
The bleakness of my future spread over me like a heavy cloud, weighing me down. I fought the urge to crawl back into bed and go to sleep. This is for Baba, I reminded myself. For my kingdom. And for me. It was better for everyone if I was out of Amir’s reach. With time, Amir would leave, and I could return.
Swallowing hard, I stepped up to the enormous mirror on my wall: the final stage of my plan. The silver spun edges of the mirror twisted with designs, hiding the entrance to the secret tunnels behind it—which were never to be used except in dire circumstances, such as a revolt or a fire. My situation definitely qualifi
ed as a crisis.
Behind this mirror, the tunnel led past my father’s room—which wouldn’t help—and also past my mother’s old rooms—which had been sealed off since her death—exiting out of the castle through the stables on one side, and out onto the cliff walls on the other.
Feeling along the edges of the mirror, I searched for the hidden pressure point. It’d been years since I’d even thought of the tunnels, much less used them. My fingers slipped over along the edge, finally landing on the piece of metal that was discretely detached from the rest of the ornamentation. There was a satisfying click.
Picking up a candle, I swung the mirror open. The hinges squeaked in protest and I winced. If I ever returned—no, when I returned—I would make a point to oil each of the doors—
“Where are you going?” Havah’s voice stopped me, one foot over the threshold, and the other out. My grip on my bag tightened. I didn’t know if I could hurt her. But if she was going to sound the alarm...
With a candle in one hand and my bag in the other, I lifted my chin, holding myself tall, and answered simply, “Please don’t tell anyone.”
Havah’s cheeks were pale. “Is this... because of your wedding? I don’t understand, why wouldn’t you talk to your father? He’s always been reasonable before. I’m sure if he knew you were about to—”
“He can’t know!” I interrupted, setting the candle holder down on a nearby table with a bang. “His mind is not his own. And I’m not entirely sure yours is either.” I advanced toward her, a step at a time.
She faltered backward, holding her hands up in protest. “Of course I’m—are you suggesting—he wouldn’t! It’s against the law!”
“What good is a law if there’s no one to make him keep it?” I snapped. But I stopped moving. As far as I could tell from her thoughts, there was no deception in her. “Havah, do you trust me?”
An Aladdin Retelling: The Stolen Kingdom Series, #1 Page 3
