Page 37 of Every Spiral of Fate (This Woven Kingdom #4)

Thirty-Six

THE PRINCESS SASHAYED THROUGH THE winter scene in a vision of fractured light, the sun shattering the colors of her bejeweled ensemble across the snowy path before her, providing an endless runway as she moved.

She was carrying a copper tray laden with tea things, steam curling away from the nose of a plump, pear-shaped teapot.

She settled herself at their table without invitation, arranging cups before Alizeh and Hazan with the enthusiasm of a child playing pretend.

“No, thank you,” said Hazan, pushing away the proffered saucer. “I’ve no interest in learning how I might die today.”

“Terribly unsporting of you,” said Firuzeh, though her enthusiasm was undiminished. “It’s a good thing I’m here for the queen, then, isn’t it?”

“But you’ve already read my fortune,” said Alizeh, struggling to curb her impatience. “You announced that I would die of scarlet fever or else perish in childbirth.”

She waved a hand. “Yes, well, it was either the heat of scarlet fever or a birth of scarlet blood—either way a great deal of red awaits you, darling—”

“A birth of scarlet blood?” said Hazan.

“But the future is ever-changing,” Firuzeh went on.

“Every day you make decisions, each decision affecting a different future. We cannot assume the fates are fixed and unchangeable, and any seer who says otherwise is a fraud, you mark my words.” She punctuated these final syllables with sharp raps of her knuckles against the table, causing everyone to jump. The porcelain rattled.

“Why does it matter whether my fate has changed?” asked Alizeh. “Why must you read only my fortune again, and not the others?”

Firuzeh lifted the lid off the teapot, releasing spirals of steam as she peered inside. “Because, dear”—she replaced the lid—“why should so many people bother with all this effort if you’re only going to die?”

“Your Highness,” said Hazan, irritated, “I beg your pardon, but your opinion is not exactly welcome—”

“I don’t recall asking you for your opinion as regards my opinion,” she said, deftly pouring a cup. “You might let the queen speak for herself.”

“The queen is tired—”

“Then she’ll be happy for some tea,” said Firuzeh, cutting him off. She turned to Alizeh. “Won’t you, darling?”

Alizeh sighed, then aimed a resigned look at Hazan. “I haven’t been sleeping well,” she said. “Tea sounds nice.”

“Well,” said Firuzeh briskly. She placed a cup in front of Alizeh before appraising her. “How tragic for the rest of us that a lack of sleep only seems to have improved your complexion, whereas it leaves the rest of us looking like death. Why, pray tell, haven’t you been sleeping well?”

Hazan scowled. “Not that it is any of your concern, but the queen has a great deal on her mind—”

“And what of your king, dear? Where has your terrifying husband gone?” She posed the interrogative with an air of indifference, rearranging a small platter of sweets that had already been arranged. “Few have seen him scowling about the grounds lately, and many have been asking questions.”

“You may tell them he’s busy making preparations,” said Hazan. “As we have a great deal to manage—”

“Does he always natter on like this?” said Firuzeh in a stage whisper, shooting Alizeh a concerned smile. “Answering questions he hasn’t been asked? Puffing out his chest like a freckled bird, as if the effort might protect you? It must be so diverting to have him around.”

“You are impeccably rude,” said Alizeh, amazed, even as she accepted the tea. “I’m genuinely fascinated by the artful way you dispense your verbal poisons, or else I’d never be able to tolerate your company.”

“Oh, everything is made better with a little panache,” said the princess, stirring a lump of sugar into her tea. “Even cruelty. You might try it some time, darling. Your doe-eyed affection tends to grate on people after a while.”

Hazan muttered an oath under his breath.

Firuzeh beamed at him. “Tea?”

“Fine,” he said sharply.

“Anyhow, I thought I overheard you two describing a delicate situation not moments ago,” she said, fixing Hazan a cup with a conspiratorial smile. “A situation as pertains to our missing king, is it? You needn’t pause your conversation on my account.”

Alizeh stiffened, and Firuzeh noticed.

“I must say,” said the princess lightly, “you really are a fascinating beauty.”

The non sequitur felt like a trick.

“Yes,” said Firuzeh, arranging her skirts as she settled into her seat.

“It’s easy to see why my thickheaded son has been so charmed.

Your faultless skin, your fine little features, all that glossy hair.

You’ve got that tragic, breathless sort of appeal—you always look a bit windswept and mournful, as if you might burst into poetic tears at any moment.

Your eyes, of course, are quite extraordinary,” she added with mild disdain, “though I imagine you’ve heard that many times. ”

Alizeh felt as if she’d been slapped.

The experience was in fact so outrageous she was nearly prompted to laugh. “Did you just insult me by paying me a series of compliments?”

Firuzeh broke into a wide smile. “Impressive, isn’t it?”

“This is an idiotic discussion,” said Hazan irritably. “The queen’s beauty is far from her greatest asset, and you do her a disservice by reducing her to her mere physical attributes—”

“Oh, I’m sure she is all that is as good and pure as the driven snow.” Firuzeh offered Alizeh the plate of sweets. “Worry not, my dear. Life will before long cure you of all that revolting kindness.”

“Well, it’s always nice to have something to look forward to,” said Alizeh, declining the sweets with a frown. “Forgive me, but what is the point of this conversation?”

“The point, darling, is that extraordinary beauty has rarely spared a person from being stupid.”

“ Enough ,” barked Hazan. “Watch yourself—”

“I’ve been made aware of the shape of your plans,” said the princess, “and it sounds a great deal like the kind of tripe only the finest idiots could encourage each other to find intelligent.”

“I beg your pardon?” Alizeh sat back. “Which plans?”

“I’d like it known that I don’t think it’s a good idea. Naturally, my son will not listen to me, but I’d like to state, here and now, that I think you should change course while it’s still possible.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” said Alizeh.

“Where on earth is your husband?” said the princess, regarding Alizeh over the lip of her teacup.

“Trouble in the marital bed so soon, my dear, is not a good sign. I’ve already seen far too much red in your future.

You must get your house in order, get your colors sorted. Allow me to be of service.”

“I beg you will not,” called Kamran, walking over.

He looked tired but charmingly rumpled, his cheeks batted about by the cold.

It was almost startling to observe him then; to remember that he was to play an important role in her life.

Alizeh had to remind herself that there’d been a time when she’d all but swooned for Kamran, which—while hard to believe at this current juncture—was not difficult to imagine now, as he approached them.

He was every inch a pedigreed royal prince: charming and powerful; arrestingly handsome.

The bolt of gold bisecting his eye had begun to fade a little over the last several days, and though no one could say for certain what had accounted for the change, the improvement had done a great deal to buoy his spirits.

He seemed to grow lighter as Alizeh grew heavier, and she found herself both drawn to and repelled by his energy, not unlike a fly attempting to exit through a glass window.

She watched Kamran as he took a seat, tugged off his gloves, and accepted a cup of tea—and he glanced at her before doing a double take, looking back again in surprise. He appeared both stunned and delighted by the intensity of her attention, so much so that she felt almost guilty.

Alizeh offered him a tentative, experimental smile, and he blossomed at once before her, his face brightening into a version of himself she hadn’t seen in some time.

Heavens, had she so thoroughly ignored him?

Alizeh supposed this was yet another problem that required her attention; she really ought to spend more time in the company of the man who might one day become so essential to her. The idea, after all, was that he would be her enduring husband, after she’d killed the first one.

The thought settled badly inside of her, upsetting her so completely that she knocked over her teacup.

Her hands were once again shaking.

“Forgive me,” she said, struggling to right the pieces. “I didn’t mean—I don’t know why—”

How could she have thought this was a good idea? How could she have ever believed she might be capable of casual murder? How had Cyrus ever managed to convince her he was worthy of casual murder?

She felt sick with self-recrimination.

She’d wanted to do what was best for her people; she’d made what seemed like the necessary, difficult sacrifice for securing their freedom. All the while she’d been certain she was being thoughtful and careful: never rash, never impulsive. And all the while—

The realization arrived like a scream.

Heavens, how had she not seen it? How had she not understood? She should’ve known from the first that no truly corrupted soul would offer themselves up for slaughter like a sacrificial lamb.

Like a martyr.

“That’s quite all right, dear,” said Firuzeh with a surprising gravity. She began mopping up the mess. “A spilled cup tells its own story.”

“I didn’t knock it over on purpose,” Alizeh said, trying to gather herself.

“No,” she said. “You didn’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” said Hazan.

Firuzeh paused to study the queen with a serious, yet curious expression. “It means her fate is currently changing. Unfinished and therefore unknowable.”

Alizeh felt a spark of premonition then, something dark and doomed, and though she looked away from the woman, she could feel that the heated eyes of the princess remained firmly fixed on her face.

“Perhaps we should move on,” said Hazan.

“Do, let’s,” said the princess. “We were speaking of the queen’s marital bed.”

“Anything but that,” said Kamran, repulsed. “I’ve no interest in hearing sordid things leave my mother’s mouth, especially not as regards the woman I intend to one day marry.”

Firuzeh turned a brilliant smile on her son. “Then you might drive a dagger through your ears, dear, and settle the matter at once.”

Kamran’s smile dimmed. “Are you incapable of even a moment of maternal normalcy?”

“Where’s Huda gone?” asked Alizeh with forced levity, attempting to restore the conversation.

“Who knows?” said the prince. “I think she ran off to check on Omid.”

“Is there something the matter with the boy?” said Hazan.

“He was complaining of a stomachache earlier.” Kamran took a sip of his tea. “Personally, I think he’s just embarrassed.”

“Over what?” asked Alizeh.

“Allegedly, Omid tried to ride off on one of the dragons without permission—or possibly he was trying to feed the beast, the details were unclear—and it had not gone over well—”

Hazan frowned. “Was it Cyrus who took offense?”

“No, it was the soldiers who stopped him. There was a bit of a scuffle, apparently—”

“One of the dragons landed within the outpost?” Alizeh asked. “Had it come to deliver a message?”

Kamran tilted his head. “I can’t say.”

“But why would the child attempt to approach a dragon? As if it were a simple matter?” Firuzeh was astonished. “He might’ve had his head bitten off.”

“Omid was training as a young keeper back in Fesht,” explained Hazan. To Alizeh, he added, “Ardunia’s dragons live exclusively in Fesht province, Your Majesty. The crown has many holdings there.”

Alizeh’s brows drew together. “I never knew Omid wanted to be a dragon keeper,” she said. “I thought his parents were farmers.”

“He was raised on remote farmland not far from a prominent dragon den,” Kamran supplied, warming his hands around his teacup.

“I once threatened to demote him to a stablehand—and he was so horrified by the idea that I’ve taken to torturing him with the suggestion when he does something brainless.

He’s begged me several times to grant him a position with the royal dragons should I ever tire of him.

” He reached for the sugar bowl. “Apparently he hates horses, but he’s quite comfortable with the more terrifying creatures. ”

“But—”

“Ah, and here comes a terrifying creature of our own,” said Firuzeh. “Welcome, sire. We’ve been eagerly awaiting your arrival.”

Alizeh flushed with heat; the tether within her coiling taut.

Finally, Cyrus had reappeared.