Page 6 of Every Spiral of Fate (This Woven Kingdom #4)

Six

THE MORNING OF HER WEDDING day, Alizeh was planted like a trailing flower in the window, legs hanging over the sill, head tilted toward the breeze as the sun stretched itself into dawn.

She’d finally been able to return to her own rooms, and she’d dearly missed these opulent views and lush gardens.

For the first time in days, she was enjoying the serene scenes outside without worrying she might accidentally stare into a pair of stranger’s eyes.

No faces could reach the windows here.

There were no knuckles pecking at the glass.

Instead, a spider the size of a saucer lowered itself on a glimmering thread, softly spinning as it slowed, then turned to stare at her.

Alizeh lifted a tentative finger to one of its furred legs and the spider retreated at once, hastily coiling itself back up into the lintel; and in so doing clearing her view of the locusts in the far distance.

Their swarm had changed locations today, choosing to hover beyond her rooms in a heaving cloud that seemed to breathe in the sky as a single body.

Alizeh worried this was a bad sign.

That they’d chosen to haunt her on the morning of her wedding seemed like a harbinger of things to come; she couldn’t think what else to make of it.

The buzz of their swarm provided a continuous hum of sound that was nearly overwhelmed by the rush of nearby waterfalls, which were so familiar to her now she hardly noticed the crash and clamor of the cascades anymore.

In fact, the sounds were altogether soothing.

Alizeh had wanted to detach from herself in the vibration of all this white noise; she’d wanted time to brace against the absurdity of her life, of all that was yet to come.

She wanted, for a moment, to simply be.

She drew in the all-familiar scent of roses, peering above her head at the flower vines that had relentlessly invaded her rooms. Here, too, scattered petals had decorated everything, whirling across the rugs and tables, occasionally steeping in her tea.

Fallen blooms eddied around her whenever a gentle breeze blew in through the window, and the experience was each time so tender it nearly brought her to tears.

So long as she denied her every other thought and emotion and focused only on this moment, Alizeh thought she felt almost content.

She decided to claim that as a victory.

From here, she could pick out the bright bodies of dragons prowling the grounds, and watched, breathlessly, as a gleaming green beast broke the surface of the waters in the distance, releasing an angry roar as it shot upward into the sky, its scales shimmering in the morning sun.

She wondered then what it might be like to be so freely enraged; to scream into the heavens and simply fly away.

She realized it was a maudlin thought.

All night she’d been caught in a maelstrom of feeling, and anger had been outpacing every other emotion by far.

This was an unsettling discovery for Alizeh, who was no stranger to suffering; while grief and sorrow had trod well-worn paths within her, she rarely befriended wrath.

She’d been trained from childhood to reach for compassion when invited to anger, for the latter was deemed volatile and unproductive.

She hadn’t even thought herself capable of so inelegant a feeling as rage, and yet she’d been inching every day closer to this unknown territory, and she hardly recognized herself for it.

Alizeh turned away from the sun, her eyes unfocusing as she gazed into the middle distance.

There was so much on her mind she occasionally imagined reaching into her skull and shucking her brain from its shell; she imagined scouring the tired organ in warm, soapy water, then letting it bake gently in the sun.

Had anyone ever been tender with her mind? she wondered. The poor thing was brutalized.

Just then, a single locust seemed suddenly to separate from the sky, landing without warning beside her, and Alizeh startled. The large bug studied her a moment, wings shifting as it canted its little head, then leaped, without warning, atop her lap.

Alizeh was so surprised she almost laughed.

When it made no move to flee, she walked her fingers gently toward its body, allowing the insect to decide whether to climb aboard her hand.

It appeared to consider her. The creature had just made a tentative move in her direction when Huda flung open her bedroom door in a panic.

“Where have you been?” she cried.

Alizeh nearly fell to her death, she was so startled. The locust seized the opportunity to toss itself desperately elsewhere.

“I’ve been here,” Alizeh said quickly, clambering off the ledge. “In my room. What’s wrong—”

“Cyrus has run away! He’s jilted you! He’s somehow broken his oath!”

Alizeh released a sigh of relief, her heart rate slowing as she retied her rumpled dressing gown. “What makes you think Cyrus has jilted me?”

“He’s not in his room! He’s nowhere to be found—and on the morning of his wedding!”

“Come, sit down,” Alizeh said gently, leading Huda to a small table. She’d rung for tea not long ago, and the pot was still warm. “Cyrus has not jilted me. He’s just there”—she nodded her head at the nearest wall—“in the adjoining room.”

Huda boggled. She did not sit down. “He’s just— Forgive me, but did you say, He’s just there ?” She, too, nodded her head at the nearest wall. “In the adjoining room?”

“Yes.”

Huda gaped. “Doing what?”

“Taking a bath.”

“ Taking a bath? ”

Alizeh fought back a smile. Huda’s hysterics were a welcome distraction from the sharp turns of her own mind. “Huda,” she said, “please sit down.”

Again, Huda did not sit. Instead, her voice fell to a conspiratorial whisper. “Do you mean to tell me the king is naked ? In your room? Splashing about in a tub?”

Alizeh took her seat, then began needlessly rearranging teacups.

She would not admit to herself what it provoked in her to hear the word naked associated with Cyrus.

She’d been feeling all kinds of things this morning: breathless things; furious things; desperate things.

“I don’t know about splashing,” she said impassively.

“And will you not tell me why you’ve done something as scandalous as allow the naked king to bathe in your room—before your vows have even been spoken?”

Now Alizeh did smile, though it felt forced.

“Hazan and I moved Cyrus to my rooms last night. The guest room he’d lately occupied had grown stale with fever and sickness.

I felt it would help him recover to be somewhere new.

Somewhere with private access to fresh air, where I might look after him.

” She glanced reflexively around, where the magicked pink blooms had touched everything.

The sight of these luminous roses—fashioned in her honor by the very man who refused to look at her—stoked the flare of heat in her chest, causing her to shift restlessly.

She’d been so preoccupied with the dramatics of her wedding day that she’d almost allowed herself to forget there’d be a wedding night, as well.