Page 13 of Every Spiral of Fate (This Woven Kingdom #4)

Alizeh took this all in, and, in her mind, she made a note.

Kamran, meanwhile, had taken a moment to collect himself before sitting back down, and then, with a forced air of unconcern: he cleared his throat, shook his head, and casually slung an arm over the back of Alizeh’s chair.

“As I said, I disagree. I see no point in prolonging this mockery. Best not to encourage attachment, I think, when we all know how things will end.”

At that, their small party fell silent.

Alizeh’s eyes, of course, went to Cyrus, who was staring impassively into the distance.

He had such extraordinary control over himself that it was almost impossible to tell what he might’ve been thinking.

It was only the subtle, strained rise of his chest that signaled to Alizeh that he might’ve felt anything at all, and she was possessed then by a nearly senseless anger. She wanted to shake him. Shout at him.

Look at me , she wanted to scream.

She knew he was not indifferent to her; it was precisely because she knew this that she was so tormented.

When Iblees had assailed her in the moments after a wedding ring appeared on her finger, Cyrus had not been able to conceal his feelings.

Indeed they’d only narrowly avoided public disaster, for the binding ceremony had so suffused their sphere with a magical radiance that the sight and sound of them had been shielded from view, they later discovered.

It was Huda who’d recounted the story to her.

It was Huda who’d described, in great detail, how the masses had crowded ever closer together as this luminescence slowly receded, breaths held and fingers knotted.

An eerie silence had descended over everything as the people waited, on cane and tiptoe, on roofs and shoulders, to witness the first moments of their king and queen.

The conjured bands of light were cleared from their globe the way one might wipe fog from a window: offering reveals of the scene beneath in inching, agonizing glimpses.

And when the eyes of the crowd finally settled upon the newlyweds, the anxious throng released an uproarious cry.

Alizeh and Cyrus had been caught in what appeared to be a passionate embrace, the king holding his queen as if he were lost in a paroxysm of emotion.

This, Alizeh remembered well.

In anguish Cyrus had cradled Alizeh’s face in his hands, searching her eyes then with the desperation of a man long denied.

She’d clung to him with equal intensity, clutching at his sweater as if she might rend the article in half.

They looked for all the world like two lovers caught in a dizzying moment of devotion, and it was enough for the masses to lose their collective mind.

Heavens, but she’d not imagined it when he’d called her angel , had she?

For then, of course—

Nothing.

Silence. Coldness. Distance. Indifference.

Alizeh felt she might explode.

As promised, Kamran had remained fixed beside her all day, and while she’d diagnosed the situation as absurd, she hadn’t known how to manage it.

She knew the dynamic was unsentimental and, at turns, merciless.

She did not feel for Kamran what she felt for Cyrus.

And yet there were a set of inevitabilities she could not outrun, facts that concretely defined her life:

First, that she had a responsibility to her people.

Second, that she was bound to a prophecy that informed this responsibility.

Third, that Cyrus would have to die in order to achieve the above.

It did not make logical sense, then, to push Kamran away.

She’d been considering his proposal a great deal these last few days, and she was forced, against her every instinct, to admit that it might make sense to braid the kingdoms of Tulan and Ardunia; if only because the legendary might of the Ardunian military would help keep her people safe.

Already, Ardunia was the largest empire on earth.

Together, they might withstand the collective violence of the world.

Perhaps she was indeed fated to marry the prince.

Perhaps it was the only way forward for the future.

Perhaps this was the reason he’d come into her life at all.

And if Cyrus was only a means to an end, did it follow, then, that Kamran was the end?

It would not have to be a love match in order to achieve the necessary political outcomes, but should she and Kamran indeed marry one day, she’d rather they got on as good friends. She would like, after all, to one day have children of her own, and she’d rather not be repulsed by their father—

Cyrus bolted suddenly upright; he looked pale.

“Forgive me,” he said unsteadily. “I feel I’ve fulfilled my duties for the day. I bid you good night.”

“Wait,” said Alizeh, stunned. She struggled to her feet, attempting to gather her train. “Where are you going—”

He did not answer her.

The king turned and strode into the hall and Alizeh would’ve chased after him except that Hazan stayed her with a gentle hand.

“He’s unwell, Your Majesty. Perhaps you will allow him to rest—”

“ Rest? ” Alizeh was scaring herself; she thought she might pick up a glass and hurl it across the room. “How is he to rest when I am not with him? When the effects of the blood oath continue to ravage his body?”

“Your Majesty—”

“I told you I would not leave him again, Hazan. I warned you that night never to keep him from me. It is only my bewilderment that holds me here, or else I should have gone to him already, for I would like to know why you continue to screen him from me when you know well that I might provide him respite from the agony he suffers in my absence—”

“My dear,” said Huda, stunned. “It is unlike you to be so overwrought—”

“I should like an answer, Hazan,” said Alizeh, fighting for composure.

She was beginning to worry she’d actually gone mad.

She heard herself—heard the shrill pitch of her voice—and still she could not find calm.

The fact that both Cyrus and Hazan could be so cavalier about his misery made her light-headed with anger.

Hazan had seen him.

Hazan knew , the way none of the others did, how torturous the effects of the oath could be.

It was, in fact, a direct consequence of Hazan’s dire warnings that Alizeh had imagined she and Cyrus might be forced, in the aftermath of the oath, to be together always, if only to stave off his pain.

Happily, she would’ve sacrificed her comfort to offer him relief.

Instead, Cyrus acted as if it made no difference to him whether she was near or not. He’d done such a thorough job selling this farce that she’d actually believed it might be possible—just until she’d broken down his door and seen the truth for herself.

Agony upon agony he would endure, if only to avoid her.

Now, rage would inhale her.

“Why do you insist on keeping him from me,” she said, her voice nearly trembling. “Why do you take his side in this, over and over, when you know how it hurts him—”

“Forgive me, Your Majesty.” Hazan looked suddenly ashen. “It was only a suggestion. I beg you disregard my opinion should you feel it is unworthy.”

“That is not an answer,” she said, turning sharply away as her eyes stung. Heavens, she was falling apart.

“Let him suffer should he wish to suffer,” said Kamran carelessly. “Why should it matter to any of us whether he wishes to marinate in his own pain?”

“He is at minimum a living being,” said Hazan, subdued. “Surely you must acknowledge—”

“Must I really?” Kamran cut him off. “Would you, in all sincerity, categorize him as a being equal to anyone else? A man who’s murdered his way through life, conjoined himself with the devil, and torn apart his own soul?

No, I do not agree—and I feel no pity for him.

No doubt he suffers now only due punishment for the darkness of his own misdeeds—”

“Forgive me,” Alizeh said, her voice breaking. “I must go— I cannot—I cannot bear to be here any longer—”

Alizeh gathered up her skirts and all but ran from the room, and though she fought to catch her crown as it slipped from her head, she did not look back when it fell, with an astonishing clatter, to the floor.