Chapter 46
Unsurprisingly, he has thrown custom aside, and his face is bare of paint. His eyes blaze as they look upon me, the scar at his eyebrow moves up with his clear excitement. Here I am. Surrendering myself to him, because there’s no other word for it. Surrendering, submitting…giving in. His eyes rove up and down my body, and I boldly open my arms, hands palm up, for him to get a better view. He smirks.
“Remove the headwrap.” He demands.
“Not unless you wish me to unbutton my gown here, in front of everyone to do so,” I reply.
“You play a very dangerous game, Ameera. Lucky for you, I like games.” He leans in closer and whispers, “Because I always win.”
A shudder runs through me before I can stop it, and he grins at the sight of it. He extends his hand to me, and I place mine atop it as we turn to face Arwa, and my father. My father’s eyes look down on me in pride, for once, pride. Not at me, but for me doing his bidding. For marrying Azar. I damn myself for ever wanting him to look at me that way because now, it only disgusts me. I glare at him and his look changes to one of arrogance, his head tipping back a bit so he can look down his nose at me. Then he’s standing, rising from his throne with all the dignity of a king who isn’t sacrificing his daughter to save his own crown.
He wears black today, scarlet buttons going down the front of the jacket that comes almost to his knees. His black pants have scarlet trim where they meet his shiny black boots. I look back at Azar while my father walks down the steps towards us. He wears a heavy white fur around his shoulders as if he’s still in Sameer. An almost blindingly white jacket is under it, tight across his chest. His pants and shoes are white as well, like the untouched snow of his kingdom. Even the buttons on his jacket are white. All that stands out with color is his crown, large and silver, spiked with jewels shining in it.
“This joyous wedding joins together two great kingdoms,” my father’s voice booms in the room. “Nur and Sameer will now become one. Princess Ameera becoming Queen of Sameer and when Ameera ascends, King Azar will become King of Nur. I cannot think of a better way to seal the bond between us. This will secure peace and prosperity for both our kingdoms, for all time. Proceed.”
My hands begin to shake anew, making Azar look down at them as my father walks back to his throne and Arwa steps forward. Azar brings the back of my hand to his lips, and I can barely contain a growl that tries to escape my throat. Arwa’s hands raise high as her eyes go completely black. On an occasion where I would think the room would lighten, it darkens instead with her magic. Even though the high windows around the room are open, the light seems to mostly disappear as she continues.
I cast a weary glance at Maryam, wondering if this has all been an elaborate trick for Azar to get inside our kingdom, our palace. If he has no intention to marry me at all, but instead slaughter everyone in this room with his witch’s help. She looks back at me with wide eyes, but then the light begins to return to the room.
My head whips around at the sudden frigid hold on my left hand, and I find Arwa’s all black eyes on me. Fighting not to flinch away, I watch her take Azar’s hand in her other. She brings me and Azar’s hands together, making our palms touch.
“Ameera of Nur,” her scratchy voice grinds out. “Do you enter into this marriage of your own accord and freely give yourself to Azar of Sameer?”
It seems like every single sound in the room is swallowed as everyone awaits my answer. Azar’s grip on my other hand tightens and when I look at him, his eyes warn me not to dare turn away from him now. Just for that look, I wait a second longer before speaking.
“I do,” I answer.
I could swear I see my father all but slouch in relief in his throne. Coward.
“Azar of Sameer. Do you enter into this marriage of your own accord and accept Ameera’s giving herself to you?”
I narrow my eyes at her changing the wording, and Azar grins. He licks his lips before answering, savoring this moment.
“I do. I gladly accept.”
I try to break the witch’s hold on my hand, thinking the ceremony over, but Azar curls his fingers, linking them with mine, locking our hands together. The pure triumph in his eyes terrifies me. Arwa reaches into some hidden pocket of her dress and brings forth a pin. Again, I try to wretch away my hand, but this time it’s Arwa who grabs it closer to her. She quickly sticks the pin into my finger and I gasp at the sharp pain. She releases my hand and does the same to Azar’s finger.
She holds both of her hands out, palms up, and Azar squeezes a drop of blood into the palm of her left hand. He looks at me, waiting for me to do the same. I don’t even know what giving her my blood means and the not knowing stills me. But I don’t have a choice. I complete this ceremony or everything falls apart. The blood begins to run down my hand, curving until it reaches my wrist and the sleeve of my gown, staining the white.
“Your hand my queen,” Arwa demands through clenched teeth.
There’s no going back now. I repeat it to myself over and over as I extend my hand and let the drop of blood fall into the palm of Arwa’s hand. My hand comes back to my side, the now small drops of blood falling to the carpet beneath my feet. Arwa claps her hand together and an energy like the one felt in the cell during the binding ceremony passes through me, except this one is much more painful, like a red hot flash traveling from my head to my toes. I gasp at the pain and even see Azar grit his teeth as it happens to him as well.
My magic fades. Disappears, all sense of it leaving me. Nothing in my stomach. My eyes look at Arwa in a panic, knowing she’s done something to me. That whatever she just did has stripped me of something. Stripped me of everything. My gaze darts to Widad sitting beside the council, and her wide eyes tell me she senses something as well.
Then it returns, but it’s a flicker of what it was. It’s only a glimmer of what I had even before Widad unleashed my full power. My magic once again feels like it has all my life, tampered, weak. Like everything Widad helped blossom last night, Arwa has now caused to wither within me, barely clinging to existence. Deep sorrow flows through me to feel it again now after knowing what it should feel like. But that sorrow is quickly replaced with fear and panic. What has she done to me?
I search within myself, trying to figure out what just happened. Is this something that all witches feel when they marry? Is this just a part of the ceremony? I don’t know, but I’m terrified. Hands trembling more than before, I turn back to Azar when Arwa begins speaking again. There is pure want in his eyes, pure malice, and utter arrogance.
“It is done My King…and My Queen,” Arwa says hoarsely, her face suddenly looking haggard and worn.
Pushing my fear aside for a second, I can at least smile at that. Her powers depleting. Her strength weakening. I look at Widad again and find her watching Arwa as well.
Azar removes my crown, tossing it carelessly to the ground beside him and reaches back. A guard hands him another crown, larger, more harshly made. It’s silver, five spikes rising from it, shorter than the ones on Azar’s crown, with different colored jewels in the middle of each one. He places it atop my hood, and I can see the way he grimaces at having to do so. The heaviness of it matches what I’ve been feeling on my shoulders all day.
Loud applause makes me look towards the crowd gathered. Azar holds our joined hands in the air as we turn to face them. The Sameer nobles cheer. The council looks on, straight-faced. My father’s boots sound until he’s standing before me, clapping the loudest, his smile beaming.
“Now for a feast,” he announces, gesturing for Azar and me to walk ahead of him.
A guard hands Azar back his weapons, a long sword he holsters to him with a belt around his waist and a knife he sheathes at his thigh. Then he practically drags me down the aisle. But he doesn’t turn to go towards the dining hall. Instead he leads me past Zaynah, who waits right outside the throne room doors. The same alarm I see in her eyes courses through me as we pass her. He takes me down an empty hallway and dread fills me when I look behind me and see no guards coming to follow us. What could they do now anyway? He’s my husband.