Chapter 35

“You lying bitch,” he spits. “All this time. All this time!” he roars. “All of this could have been avoided had you not been so useless all your life. Now, it’s too late. Too late.”

I see the muscles in his arm bunch, preparing to drag the knife across Hamza’s throat, and know there’s no more time to waste. Letting the magic build in me in ways I never have before, I use a spell Maryam has only let me try on her once and pray it works. I bring my palm out, point it at my father and let the magic free. My father freezes, stunned, looking just as paralyzed as Hamza. But I know it won’t last long. I use another pulse of magic to throw my father backwards until he lands at the foot of his beloved throne.

Then the mist of the circle is receding. My eyes quickly dart to where it’s begun to disappear. The blood that’s leaked from Hamza’s leg is running through where the circle had enclosed moments before. Now just a white chalky line shows itself. The black ooze leeches away from his feet, freeing them. The moment Hamza’s body unlocks, he tries to go towards my father, but his knee buckles on the leg he was stabbed in, my healing having not been enough. He groans as his knee collides with the hard floor, his palms slapping against the tile as he tries to regain some balance.

“Go!” I scream.

Hamza’s head snaps up, and he looks at me with pure anguish in his eyes. The one remaining capable guard is up and getting his spear. I can fight him off, but Hamza must go. He cannot defend himself should I falter, and I refuse to watch his die.

“Go,” I repeat hoarsely.

I can see he wants to say something, but I dare not ask him what in my father’s presence.

“Guards,” my father shouts, calling for help I know will come.

He moves now into a sitting position, my spell wearing off some, but not completely. He tries to rise and his legs fail him. We have to hurry. I can hear the many boots of guards charging towards the room. I cannot fend them all off.

I rush towards Hamza and drop to my knees before him. His gaze is full of pain and hesitation. I bring my hand to his cheek and feel his heavy breath skim across my face. It may very well be the last time I ever feel his breath on my skin. The last time I look into these dark, lovely eyes. The last time I can touch him.

“Please,” I plead, “Leave and be ready to come back when I summon you again. For when I do, it’ll be for a war of our own.”

Light enters his eyes then, but they shift to behind me, to my father and worry fills them.

“I love you. Go.”

He disappears just as the doors burst open bringing guards bustling into the throne room. I savor the smell of rain that fills the space before me. It may very well be the last time I ever experience it. Even though I told Hamza I would summon him again, convincing myself of that is harder than saying it. Because when I turn around and see the promised vengeance in my father’s eyes, I know I will suffer in all the ways he has promised for this.

“Seize her,” he growls.

The guards look around the throne room in confusion at first. I turn around, seeing the room as they do. Batil clutching his broken leg, whimpering from where he lays near the unconscious guard. The other guard stands near my father now, glaring at me like this was truly all my doing. And maybe that’s how it looks to the other guards because when my father repeats his order to seize me, this time they don’t hesitate.

The one who reaches me first wrenches my hands forward, roughly tying them with coarse rope before turning me to face the throne. My father slowly walks over to the dropped knife and bends over to pick it up. His eyes look it over for a moment, then his eyes move to me and for the first time tonight, terror for myself blossoms. He stomps over to me, nothing but a body full of rage, bent on destruction. It’s a fearful sight coming towards me. A fearful sound is the thud of his heavy boots echoing in the room, until he’s so close his nose is almost touching mine.

But that’s not what makes my breath hitch. No, that is due to the bite of cold steel I feel at my throat. Even through the fabric of my gown, it leaks into my body. I don’t even swallow the saliva that’s flooding my mouth for fear it’ll make the blade cut into my skin.

“I should rid this kingdom of you right now,” my father screams as spittle from his mouth lands on my face.

I dare not flinch away.

“You are a traitor unlike any I have ever seen. You have betrayed not only your father, but your kingdom. And now, not only are your lies exposed, but you have let our enemy live. Defended him, harmed your own people to protect him.”

I stay silent, my eyes moving back and forth between his own.

“Have you nothing to say? No defense for the power you’ve kept hidden? No words for the filth you had the nerve to touch before my very eyes. You would deserve me watching every ounce of your disgusting, vile blood spill onto my boots.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Maryam’s voice roars.

I forget the knife at my throat for a second and turn my head. My skin moves, stretches, against the blade, and I hiss when it cuts through the fabric of my gown.

“Your beloved princess is an enemy of Nur,” my father states. “She has hidden magic from the kingdom. She has summoned the Unspoken One.”

“No.” Maryam breathes but I hear it like it echoes in my mind.

Her shocked and sorrowful gaze turns to me. I try to apologize for not telling her with my eyes. I try to convey that I was trying to help Nur, in the beginning, and then I fell in love with Hamza. But I can see all that’s going through her mind is the punishment I will now receive. I have watched hundreds of lashing, but now it will be me. I shudder, and the knife cuts into my neck this time.

The other members of the council stand beside her, surveying the damage behind me before their eyes come to me. They look as if they don’t know what to make of all this. It looks as if their princess has attacked royal guards, stood against her father, all to protect someone who’s been banished, for what crime they don’t know.

“Arrest Advisor Maryam,” my father tells the guards.

Knife or no knife, I struggle against the hold of the rope around my wrists when the guards begin to close in on her. Surprisingly, it’s Medinah who steps forward and speaks.

“You cannot arrest a member of this council without a unanimous vote from the others permitting it,” she reminds my father.

His face vibrates with anger, his jaw clenching tight.

“We will vote now,” he states, then warns, “And I advise all of you to vote wisely. Raise your hand if you permit the arrest of Maryam.”

None of them do. A vice releases from around my heart, but a different type of pain engulfs me when my father backhands me. Thrown off balance by having my hands tied, when my head whips to the side, my body follows it. Unable to brace myself as I fall, my shoulder and the side of my head hit the tiles, making me see stars for a moment.

Maryam rushes forward, helping me off the floor. Her eyes search my face, for what I don’t know, but when they fill with tears, I go to bring my hand up to comfort her, but the rope only lets them separate an inch before it cuts into my wrists, making me hiss. She wraps her hands around my joined ones instead. I don’t know if hers or mine are the ones trembling.

“What have you done, my child?” she whispers, her voice pained and hoarse.

“What I must,” I reply.

“Oh, don’t worry.” My father gives a bitter laugh. “She can heal herself. With the powers her worthless mother gave her. With the powers she has hidden for years. The powers I am sure you helped her hide.”

His eyes are solely on Maryam.

“And this is the offense you wish to claim Maryam has committed?” Hunayn asks. “What you would dare to have an advisor of this council arrested for?”

“Maybe you’re looking around this room and wondering how these men ended up injured.” My father gestures to Batil and the other guards. “Maybe you’re thinking it was The Unspoken One. It was not. It was Ameera who harmed them. With magic I was told she does not possess. With fighting skills I would never have had her taught. And so who would have taught her these skills but the one she is closest to? Who else but Maryam would have sought to keep her powers hidden so she could turn the heir into a weapon against her own kingdom?”

“If her father would not seek to use her as a means to an end, then you would not see her as a threat.” Maryam seethes. “You would not see her skills as a weapon, but as an asset, if only you took any type of pride in your own child, in your own heir. Yes.” She stands up. “I taught her to fight. I taught her many a thing you would not. There is no crime in that.”

“A crime is what I say it is. But no matter. You, an advisor of mine, who should be loyal to your king, has chosen to stand by your traitorous princess. So it is Ameera who will take the punishment that was meant for you, Maryam.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she spits.

“You would not believe the things I dare, Advisor,” he grits out.

I try to get up, and when I struggle, Maryam helps me.

“I will take it.” I jut my chin up. “I will take her punishment.”

“Ameera, no,” Maryam pleads.

“Is there nothing prohibiting the king from punishing his heir?” Bilal questions, looking at the other advisors.

“No,” Maryam snaps. “Because no one would ever think any ruler of Nur would be so horrid as to punish their own child in such a way.”

She looks back at me, and I stare into her glassy eyes and smile. My body aches with some phantom pain, knowing my father will make sure he tears my body to shreds for this. But for Maryam, I smile. She has given all to me. She has done all for me. I will do this for her. She shakes her head, and I give a single nod. She’s always told me to sacrifice her to save myself, but I find I cannot. And I don’t want to.

“It’s okay,” I croak.

“You most certainly won’t be saying that once the first lash falls,” my father cuts in. “Take her to the dungeon to await punishment. And you,” He turns to Widad, who watches me with sorrowful eyes. “You will go with them and do a spell to make sure she doesn’t use her magic to escape.”

A guard drags me away. I don’t look at my father and what I’m sure is a grim happiness on his face. I don’t look at the advisors to see what their reaction is to all this. I only look at Maryam. Her heartbreak is clear on her face. Her hands tremble at her sides as if she wants to reach for me and is barely keeping herself from doing just that. Just as I reach the door, I see the first tear fall from her eye. Hers’ are the last words I hear before the doors close.

“You will pay for this Qarun.”

I grin even as the guard shoves me to walk faster. He leads me past my bedroom and down a hallway I know all too well. When Mikael sees us approaching, he begins to smile before his eyes go down to my hands, and he notices they’re tied together.

“Open the door,” the guard demands.

“For the Princess?” Mikael asks, baffled.

“Yes. Open them now. She will remain here until it’s time for her punishment.”

Mikael’s brows furrow in confusion, but he does as he’s told and the door creaks open. The guard could escort me alone, but Mikael follows us, a few steps behind Widad. I’m grateful for his presence at my back while I walk down the steps. The guard unties my hands and shoves me into one of the empty cells. Once he closes the door, he removes the key from it and places it on the wall across from the cell.

“Do what needs to be done.” The guard barks at Widad.

She gives him a scathing look, surely reminding him she does not take orders from him. But she steps forward regardless because she does have to do as my father bids. Refusing isn’t an option. She brings her hands to the top two corners of the cell door, and a faint light glows, following along the trail her hands take to the bottom of the door.

I don’t know the spell she uses, but it doesn’t matter anyway. There’ll be no escape for me from here, and not from the punishment that’s coming.