Chapter 48

I’m escorted by one of my father’s guards to the queen’s quarters. He opens the door and closes it behind me when I walk in. When I find Zaynah inside the room, I almost collapse with relief at the sight of her. We rush towards each other, our arms wrapping around one another instantly. Her fingers clutch at my gown, her grip so tight, it causes pain, but it is exactly what I need right now.

“Are you okay?” she asks hoarsely. “When he took you down the hallway…” she backs up, shaking her head. “All I could do was watch. I wanted to rip him limb from limb for touching you.”

“I’m alright. Although I wish I could wash my mouth out a hundred times. And even then, I fear I would still feel his lips on mine.”

“I’m sorry, Your Highness. But here, I have brought your things from your room.”

She motions to the grand white dresser on the other side of the large room. I walk with her over to the bundle sitting atop it.

“Everything?” I inquire.

“As much as I could safely hide within the dress your father told me to bring here.”

“What dress?”

Her eyes cast sideways, and I pick up the white dress on the top of the bundle. I hold it up, letting it unfold until I can see it in its entirety. Although, there isn’t much to see. It is not my usual sleeping dress. Not what I’d planned to put on when I returned to my own bedroom. This dress has sleeves that will only come to my elbows. The neck line drops in a deep V that will reveal far too much. The bottom looks like it will only come to my knees, if that.

“The guard that brought me here took away the dress I had on the end of the bed for you,” she explains. “But I was able to bring a gown, headwrap, and a few…other things.”

I press my fingers into the odd shapes I see between the fabric of my gown and smile. “Thank you. They’re worth more to me than a sleeping dress. Well… no one said I have to actually put on the dress, right?”

“Your father’s guards will be escorting King Azar to the room, as well as his own guards. Your father said to inform you that should you still be in your wedding gown and not the sleeping dress, he would tell Azar exactly what the blue you’re wearing means.”

“His one card to play,” I murmur. “And of course, he would play it for this.”

I close my eyes at the intense desire for Azar to never set eyes on me in this dress. But I know my father will follow through on his threat. And for him to do that would disrupt every single thing I have put in motion. Every plan I have so carefully made. I can’t risk it.

“Help me out of my gown please,” I say low.

Zaynah steps behind me, beginning to undo the buttons as I remove my jewelry and crown. “It is only for a time Your Highness. Then all of this will seem like nothing when it’s all said and done.”

“I know, but I still hate it. This somehow feels worse than all the people seeing me with my dressed ripped open in the courtyard. Because it’s him who’s looking at me now. His eyes on me feels like snakes sliding across my skin. Disgusting and dangerous.”

“To even watch the way he looks at you. It just feels wrong. Predatory in a way.”

She moves to the lower buttons, and I push the hood off of my hair. It should be a relief to finally have my hair out, to let it breathe, but knowing Azar’s eyes will be on it ruins any of that. Zaynah finishes unbuttoning the gown, and I bring it down my body as she retrieves the sleeping dress, if you can call it that. Zaynah brings the dress over my head and as the silky fabric of the dress slides down my body, hatred rushes through me. Hatred that my own father picked this, had this made, for me. Hatred at knowing how Azar’s eyes will devour me when he walks into the room and sees me wearing this. Hatred that there will be nothing I can do to stop that look.

I walk over to the filled basin as Zaynah folds my wedding gown. To wash the paint from my face would be a right, a privilege, for my true husband. Azar does not deserve that. I bring the water to my face again and again until I see it come away clear of paint. When I turn around, I find Zaynah standing there, worry in her eyes and her hands shaking. She quickly hides them under the fabric of my gown.

“It will all go according to plan, Zaynah. And if it doesn’t…”

“There is no if, Your Highness. There can’t be. Because that would mean you get taken away from here, from me, from…him. So there is no if.”

I give a single nod. Then the door flies open. Even if my eyes didn’t snap to the door, I would have known it was Azar. Who else would enter without knocking, with such arrogance and authority? But since my eyes do go to the door the moment it opens, I see him enter. I find the look I knew I would on his face. Satisfaction, victory, desire…lust. They all sicken me. His eyes greedily look upon me, from my hair, to my chest, to my bare legs and feet. Then they come back to my eyes and narrow. I have my own plans for this night, but it’s clear that his plans include something cruel, something full of pain, something to do with what he’s always intended. Breaking me.

“Out,” he demands.

The guards closest behind him, his own personal ones, quickly walk away, stepping further back into the hallway. The Nur guards look between Azar and I, sympathy in their eyes when they settle on me before they too step back. Then only Zaynah is left in the room. She looks back at me, strength in her eyes. I take the courage she lends, sealing it inside myself. I will need every ounce of it right now.

“Out,” Azar roars.

Zaynah slowly begins walking across the room. When she reaches the doorframe, Azar turns around to the groups of guards.

“Do not open this door,” he commands. “No matter what you hear. Anyone who enters, dies by my hand.”

I’d like to think the chill that rushes over my skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, is from the lack of clothing I have on. From the slight bite of cold in the room. But then a breath leaves me as Azar closes the door, and there’s no denying that it’s him who invokes my reaction. He turns around, his eyes clashing with mine as he begins to do something he should never have the ability to do.

His hands begin at the top of the door and go along the sides until he drops into a crouch to complete encasing the door. My body shakes violently as I watch Azar perform a spell that will prevent anyone from opening the door he has just sealed shut with magic.

“No.” I breathe.

It’s not possible. There has never been a male witch. Never. This is some trick. Some magic from Arwa. It has to be.

But it’s all staring right back at me. The color of his eyes having bled away completely to become nothing but a black abyss of madness and evil. I can feel his magic, magic that he should not be able to possess let alone use thrumming through the room, vibrating from his body, like some live, anxious animal ready to strike at any second.

It all comes together piece by piece. That sick feeling I have whenever he touches me. The way he was able to subdue Hud in the village. The way his eyes looked the morning I was supposed to sign the marriage agreement. What I had always thought was some side effect of the protection Arwa gives him. What I’d thought was just something unnatural in him was really something that defies all logic, defies the very rules of magic.

He begins walking forward, smirk in place. His glee at my being stupefied is evident. I cannot wrap my mind around this, any of it. But I know that the danger I thought I was in has just multiplied a thousand times. He was a threat with just his bare hands. But now those hands can somehow also do magic, and the terror that rushes through me at that thought is almost paralyzing.

Almost. As he gets closer to me, I move, sidestepping him to keep distance between us. He walks towards the dresser I just stood in front of, and I walk along the wall until I’m now by the door. He doesn’t try and stop me, doesn’t reach out to grab me. When he reaches the dresser, he begins removing the belt that holds his sword. It thuds when it collides with the dresser. Then his knife. He spins it in his hand a few times, dangerously twisting it through his fingers before placing it beside his sword.

He watches me as if he has not a single fear. Has Arwa told him that I have magic as well? Does he even think I know what he just did at the door, that I watched him cast a spell? If he is a witch, can he feel the power within me like I can him? His confidence only causes more fear to rush through me. And when he begins undressing, other fears mount, making this room feel far too small, and the distance between us much too short.

He removes his crown and unbuttons his jacket, slowly, his long fingers taking their time undoing each one. I stand by the door, hating each piece of skin that becomes revealed as he goes. The last one is undone, and he shrugs his broad shoulders, letting it and the fur attached to it fall to the floor. If I thought his face had a lot of scars, his chest and abdomen are far worse. They crisscross across his skin, some old and fading, some new, red and angry looking. Whether they are from wars or training, I don’t know, but they tell a story of a man who should not have survived all these wounds. And now I know how. He could heal himself, he could fend off blows from enemy soldiers that would otherwise end his life.

Has Widad started her spell yet? Does Arwa know what’s happening? Will Azar be able to feel that something is happening if his own magic is connected to Arwa’s? There were already so many unknowns and now something I could never have expected, never have prepared for is staring me in the face. My plans are unraveling right before my eyes. But I can’t allow them to. Too much rests on what happens in this room.

“Would you like to finish?” Azar asks, his hands going to his pants.

“You don’t have to do this,” I protest. “We’re married. Nur is yours. You don’t have to complete this. No one would know.”

“I would know. And yes, I don’t have to do this.” He grins. “But I want to. And let’s hope you are a virgin because if not, I will go through this palace, slaughtering any man you’ve had even the briefest of interactions with.”

“You’re a monster.” I shake my head.

“Yes, I am. But never forget that you are bound to this monster until you die.”

Not until we die. Until I die. But Azar will find I don’t die that easily. I don’t give in or surrender that easily. In fact, not at all. I square my shoulders, and his grin widens.

“Good. Now you’re ready to play.”