Chapter 39

My father’s eyes come to mine, narrowing as he no doubt compares how badly he wants the marriage to how desperately he wants Hamza dead. His need for me to marry Azar against his hatred for Hamza.

“But you must let Hamza go,” I say.

His mouth twists into a snarl, and he presses the knife deeper into Hamza’s skin. A thin streak of blood falls from the wound and trails down his neck until it hits his shirt collar.

“If you kill him I will never agree to the marriage. Never. If you let him go, I will sign the agreement right here and now.”

My father’s jaw ticks while he considers my words. Hamza’s own jaw muscles move back and forth. What must he be thinking? That I’m sacrificing myself, my future, for him, to save him. Doesn’t he know that I would do anything for him though? My eyes move back to my father as he lowers the knife, just a bit, but enough that the knot in my chest loosens some.

“You will sign it before this disgusting thing leaves the cell,” my father insists.

“I will. And you will not summon him again after I sign. You will cease trying to kill him. And you will not harm Maryam.”

“Done,” my father says quickly, too quickly.

“Widad will seal our promises between us before I sign.”

The narrowing of my father’s eyes tell me just what I assumed. That he would have had me sign then summon Hamza again anyway and kill him after I’d already agreed. But if Widad seals our words, makes them binding, then we will die if we break them. It is a spell I have read much about. I know my father values his life above all others, so if breaking the promise would end his, then he will keep his word as long as he lives. When my father takes too long to respond, I speak again.

“You will promise not to summon Hamza again, not to try to kill again. You will promise not to harm or kill Maryam. And I will promise to marry Azar. And I will not try to dissolve the marriage once I am queen.”

His eyebrows raise just the barest amount at my words. Everything he wanted is on a scar riddled platter before him. No war, to be rid of his daughter, to have Nur safe with Azar, at least in his eyes. And all he has to do is release Hamza to have it all.

“Do we have a deal?” I ask.

He stays silent a moment longer before giving a single nod. “We do. At last.”

At last. Bastard.

“Do the binding,” he tells Widad. “But do not let him leave until she has signed.”

He marches from the cell and when he returns, he’s no longer holding the knife. Instead the marriage agreement is in his hand. He came prepared for this. He knew what summoning Hamza would do. Although I rather think he probably did plan to kill Hamza and that would be what made me sign. Either way, his smug smile as he places the paper on the desk in the cell tells me he thinks I’ve played right into his hands. Little does he know, he’s played right into mine.

Suddenly Hamza is moving, and my eyes snap back to him. The ooze has left his feet, and he steps forward, rushing towards me. But when he reaches the mist still making a wide circle around him, he can step no further. He beats against the very air around him, and his fists come up against some invisible force. I don’t know if he can just leave the circle, disappear, but I hope he tries.

Then Widad is beginning the binding spell, first with my father. But my eyes stay on Hamza. His eyes plead with me, utter devastation clear on his face as he drops to his knees. He shakes his head again and again, trying to dissuade me the only way he can. But I give him a small smile, trying to convey, in my only way, that things will be okay. Or at least, I hope they will. That I’m doing this for me, for him, for us. For Nur.

His fist comes to the limits of the circle again, staying there while his forehead lands on it. His chest deflates with defeat as Widad and my father move closer to me. She takes my wrists, the movement making me wince when it stretches my arms and a few wounds, and places her thumb and forefingers around each. A slight burning comes from the circle she’s made, and I know her magic is sealing the promise I have made to me. Then she joins me and my father’s hands, my left on top of his, and his right on top of mine. I feel the way his hands want to recoil from touching mine, but Widad puts her hands under and on top of ours, keeping our hands together.

“State your promise my king,” she orders.

“I will not summon Hamza again. I will not try to kill him any longer. I will not harm or kill Advisor Maryam,” my father says through clenched teeth.

“And you, my princess.”

“I will sign the marriage agreement. I will marry King Azar. I will not seek to dissolve my marriage once I am queen.”

Every word I say makes Hamza flinch until his head hangs low, and I can no longer see his face. His ragged breathing fills the room after the silence of our promises.

“If these promises should be broken,” Widad speaks and red mist surrounds all of our hands. The burning around my wrist intensifies. “Death will come for you before that night is through. These words are binding for the rest of your days.”

When she finishes speaking, it feels like flames engulf our hands. Before I can even yelp from the pain, it goes from blazing heat to icy cold. Then her hands leave ours, and my father quickly snatches his hand away from mine, immediately reaching for the marriage agreement.

“Guard,” he yells.

A young man, no longer Mikael, rushes into the cell, stopping short when he sees Hamza.

“Bring me a feather and ink from the hallway. Now,” my father snaps when the guard doesn’t move quick enough.

The guard, still looking bewildered and confused, rushes from the cell before I hear his feet scuffle against the stone.

“I warn you,” my father says as the guard returns and hands him the items. “If I even suspect you’ve summoned him again, I will tell King Azar it was you who called The Unspoken One to his kingdom. And I think we both know his punishment for that would be something worse than a lashing.”

“I won’t summon him again.”

At my words, Hamza’s shoulders slump forward. I wish I could remove the confusion that must be swirling inside him. That I could give him the explanation and answers I’m sure he needs, but I can’t. Not right now. Not when I have to make my father believe I’m feeling the pain and loss of knowing I’ll never see Hamza again.

“Make sure that you don’t. Then you’ll be in Sameer, where he can’t reach and even if he somehow could, you’ll no longer be my problem.”

My father’s venomous words mean nothing, have no effect on me. Not when I’m looking at the one I love wither before me. I can see how Hamza’s eyebrows are furrowed, confusion clear even if I can’t see his face. His hands are balled into fists on his thighs, clenching and unclenching.

My father places the ink, feather, and marriage agreement on the floor near my head. The cot is low enough to the ground that I can reach down and sign. My eyes skim over the agreement, landing first on the signature I watched Azar sign in Sameer, then on the words, unchanged since I last read them.

“Sign it now,” my father commands.

I grunt as I move my arm to let it extend over the end of the cot. Slowly, I dip the feather into the ink. Even knowing I planned this, putting my name to this paper feels like I’m betraying my hand. As if my hand is a traitor to the rest of my body just for being what holds the feather. I sign my name to the paper, feeling like I’ve just sold my soul, and then let the feather drop to the ground.

“Now let him go,” I say, looking at a still bowed headed Hamza.

The witch does nothing but look at my father.

“Do it.” He permits her.

Look at me. I beg him in my mind. Look at me.

He does. As the mist recedes from the circle, his head lifts and his eyes, full of pain and despair, come to mine. It takes everything inside me not to break at that look. Not to try to get off this cot and run into his arms. Instead, I smile at him again, but it looks like his sorrow only deepens because of it.

“I love you,” I mouth.

He rises from his knees, his eyes going to my father, anger and a promise of revenge in them. But no, I cannot let that happen. I try to bring his attention to me with words I hope he understands.

“It will rain soon,” I rush to say.

His body stills, and his eyes come back to me. They narrow, maybe in a little bit of realization, before he tilts his head in the way that I love.

“Go,” I plead.

And he does. Widad slumps over as soon as Hamza leaves the cell, the strength it took to contain him having drained her. The black mist seeps back into her chest, her eyes closing right before she shudders. Tiredness makes her features look old beyond her years. She leans against the wall, clutching her chest and taking deep breaths.

The smell of rain washes over me, and the first semblance of happiness I’ve had since I stood with Hamza in the nursery comes to me. I will smell that again. I must.

“What was that about?” my father barks. “What you said?”

I let every ounce of heartbreak I feel rush forward, filling my eyes with the tears I didn’t want to shed in front of Hamza. They spill over, running down my face sideways and hitting the cot under my face. I need my father to see the very real pain I’m in, need him to believe it.

“It doesn’t matter now,” I croak.

My father looks at me for a few seconds, looking like he’s trying to decide whether to press it or not, but then he bends over and picks up the marriage agreement. He smiles as he looks it over, his victory achieved.

“I will send word to King Azar immediately,” he says as he rolls up the paper. “We’ll want to have the wedding as soon as possible.”

He means he wants to be rid of me as soon as possible.

“When I’ve received word that King Azar will still have you, I’ll have your things bought back to your room. You’ll need to begin packing for Sameer.”

“And my lady-in-waiting?” I ask.

“You can have her. She can be my insurance that you don’t do anything foolish until King Azar gets here.”

I grit my teeth. “I have signed the agreement. Our promises are binding. Is that not enough?”

“With you? Never,” he spits. “Let’s go.”

He walks out without another word. Widad doesn’t follow but knowing my father, he hasn’t noticed. He’ll have expected her to follow, not even checking if she has. She looks into the hallway while the sounds of my father’s boots on the steps get further away. When I no longer hear them, she steps closer to me and lays her hands on my back. I hiss at the contact, but then I feel the warmth of her magic flow from her fingers and into me. The pain goes almost completely away, becoming a dull ache rather than the inferno it was.

“I will try to remove the scars at another time, but this is all I can do for now. The spells have taken their toll on me,” she whispers. “I hope it helps some.”

I can move my arms without groaning now, so I bring them up until my hand encircles her wrist. “Thank you.”

She nods and takes sluggish steps from the cell, closing the door behind her. Her shadow disappears and then her steps follow until I’m alone again. I could probably sit up, but instead I let exhaustion from today and yesterday take over. I’m weary and tired. Hopeful and aware. A mixture of good and bad emotions. But only one thing flashes behind my closed eyelids again and again. Hamza, reaching out for me.