Chapter 2

I used to think one would get used to things after experiencing them so many times. But I know now I was wrong. I have seen and heard countless people lashed for speaking of The Unspoken One since he was banished thirteen years ago. My father forces me to be present for each and every punishment carried out. But I have never gotten used to seeing the guard inflict such pain on another person. Never been able to stop the way I flinch at the first strike. Never been able to stop my stomach from rolling as I see the first piece of skin split open under the whip. Never been able to stop my jaw from clenching at the screams of anguish.

My father makes me watch, trying to harden me, but it only drives to strengthen me never to be like him. A tyrant, unforgiving and hard-hearted. It only increases my hatred for him with each lash. As the whip falls for the last time, the man being punished sags in the chains that prevent him from collapsing to the ground. My father approaches me, and I close my eyes, making sure all emotion bleeds from them before I look at him. And when I do, his eyes bore into mine as he towers over me.

“You’ve stopped crying at the lashings. That’s something at least,” he says.

I stay silent, only looking at him with dead eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of my emotions. His face, pockmarked from a sickness in his youth, and now a pale brown from how little he leaves the palace walls, fills my vision. Black eyes that always look tired and half-lidded, narrow even more with his disdain for me. His nostrils flare before his lip curls on one side, and he speaks again.

“Nothing to say, Ameera?”

“What is it you’d like me to say?” I ask with a monotone voice.

He glares at me. “Oh, we’re being the dutiful daughter today, are we? Okay then, I’d like you to say that you agree to marry King Azar.”

My eyes cast to the side now. I should have expected that to be his response. It’s all he cares about now. It is the point of every discussion we have, the few we have. I have not agreed to marry King Azar since my father promised him my hand a year ago. Azar is king of the cold and foreboding Sameer Kingdom. The only kingdom with a bigger army than ours, and stronger. The only true threat to Nur, and my father would have me marry Azar to be secure that he won’t cross our borders and take his crown…and his head along with it.

The laws of our kingdom dictate that should an heir be forced to marry against their will, without signing their consent on the marriage agreement, when they become the king or queen, they can have the marriage dissolved. My father knows that is exactly what I will do should he force me to marry Azar. And I will not agree because, although my father has chosen to ignore Azar’s reputation, I have not. He has had two wives suddenly die, under circumstances no one ever seems to really know the details of. Only that they are alive one day and dead the next. I will not be the next bride he kills, taking my kingdom after my death.

“It could be you next time,” my father whispers menacingly, stepping closer to me until his broad shoulders block out the sun. “You can be chained to the posts and lashed until you agree.”

Like always, when he threatens me, my magic surges inside of me, tearing at my center to be released, wanting to protect me from a man I should not need protection from. But I have trained with Maryam for years to gain self-control, to increase my self-restraint. The few times it has slipped over the years, something breaking in a room for seemingly no reason, the wind howling through a room it shouldn’t, have only caused him to watch me closer, salivating for proof that his marrying my mother was worth it, that my existence can still be of some benefit to him.

I quell the magic within me, having expected the threat this time. He’s been escalating in his attempts to make me sign the marriage agreement. First, three months ago, he took away my ladies-in-waiting. When he saw that didn’t affect me enough to sign, he had me contained to the palace, unable to leave its walls for any reason. This has hit me hard since I enjoy being out in the village much more than in the palace, but it isn’t enough to make me even consider signing the agreement. The last time we spoke of this and I once again refused to sign, he backhanded me so hard, I saw stars before I tasted the blood filling my mouth. Still, I would not sign. But I am anxious over what he will do next, and apparently I’m right to be.

“I will not marry him.” I grit out, even as fear makes my muscles lock, bracing against another hit.

“I don’t think you understand just what lengths I’m willing to go to for a simple signature.”

Oh, I do. I really do. But he doesn’t comprehend the lengths I would go to for my people. Because I know it is them who would suffer the most. My father will die, and I would become queen, but a queen married to a king even more corrupt than my father. Azar would make my kingdom like his own, or worse, and that I will never allow. The people need change, now more than ever, and I can only give it to them if I can rule the way they deserve when I sit upon the throne.

I don’t even know if Azar would let me live long enough to become queen. And it’s not a chance I’m willing to take just to protect myself from my father and whatever evil thing he thinks of doing to me next.

“Get out of my sight before I lock you in the dungeons.” My father waves me off.

I am glad to be dismissed, having never wanted to be on this balcony in the first place, watching people be punished for nothing more than uttering a name. But it is exactly that name that has me heading towards the library instead of returning to my room. My gown swishes behind me with my movements, the only sound in the empty hallways of the palace. All others stay far away from the courtyard when someone is being punished, whereas I am given no choice in whether I wish to witness the horrors that take place there or not.

I turn down hallway after hallway of the mostly one level palace. It would be easy to get lost in the maze of hallways if I had not been walking them all my life. The lower level is much simpler, only having two rooms, the hot springs for bathing, and the dark, dank dungeons.

I push the double doors of the library open, creaky with its rare use when I first started coming here, but opening silently now. The darkness and quiet of the library comfort me. It’s kept hotter here, fires burning to keep any moisture from affecting the books. It’s the only place where my long-sleeved, high-necked gowns and hair wraps make me feel the heat of their presence. The rest of our kingdom is always perpetually autumn. Not too hot, not too cold. Always cool.

I sigh as I walk into the library, feeling a freedom that’s nonexistent in the rest of the palace, where I feel eyes on me at all times. Either those of spies my father has told to watch me, or the eyes of the people, judging if I will be just like my father or if I am more like my mother was rumored to be. My father never comes here, and it feels untainted for that very reason. A room, more or less, to myself. Well, me and the librarian. He smiles at me as I walk over to him.

“I left the books you were reading yesterday on the table for you, Your Highness,” he tells me.

“Thank you Imran.” I smile, looking over at the stack of books beckoning me.

“I do wish you would tell me what you’re looking for. I’m sure I could help you if I knew.”

“I know you could, but I like the search. Something to fill my time.”

He nods and sits back down in his chair, head bending over the book in front of him. I would never ask for his help. Not with this. The thought of him in the courtyard, getting lashed because he helped me search for anything involving The Unspoken One would be too much to bear. I walk over to the table and light the candle Imran left for me. Setting it a good distance away from me, I reach for the book at the top of the stack and open it.

Just like all the other books about the histories of our kingdom, a name is blotted out again and again, black ink placed over whatever letters had once been there. It’s been the same thing for weeks as I’ve searched for any information about The Unspoken One. Blotted words, black ink telling me I shouldn’t be looking for him, but he’s my last hope now. With each day, my marriage to Azar draws nearer. My refusal to sign the marriage agreement has not at all deterred my father from continuing to promise Azar that our wedding will take place and end the tensions between our kingdoms. More and more I’m realizing that I have nowhere to turn. A father who cares so little for me, he’d hand me over to a, by all accounts, brutal killer. Advisors who have tried to intervene on my behalf, but can do very little to convince my father to call off trying to force the marriage. So now I look for the name of the only one I know is an enemy to my father, hoping he can save me somehow. It’s a foolish thing to hang my future on, I know, but it’s all I have right now.

All I’ve found so far is that The Unspoken one is summoned by his true name. That people call upon him in times of desperation, but what kind of desperation, I don’t know. And can he even still be summoned, since he was banished? The witch who cast the spell died years ago, but I don’t for a second believe the spell died with her. And if so, my father would have had the current witch cast the same spell the moment she was found and brought to the palace. Such is his hate for The Unspoken One.

I glance through book after book, placing them in another stack on the left side of me once I decide they’re useless. I’m on the last book when I see a word that makes me pause, my body going still in my seat. I know I have never seen this word in any of the books before, have never heard it said before. That tells me of its importance, and the first letter being capitalized tells me it’s not just a word, but a name. A name that should not be spoken in this kingdom, lest you end up like the man I just witnessed in the courtyard.

I purse my lips to say the name, but stop myself, remembering what I read about his name summoning him. I can’t do that here. It would put Imran in danger and myself as well. No, later, when the palace is asleep, I will find somewhere to say this name.

Hamza.