Soraya couldn’t help lifting an eyebrow at that. She wanted to remark that she was no treasure, but the way Azad was looking at her—that gentle, dreamy look, like he wasn’t quite sure she was real—held her back.
“I was captivated,” he continued. “I would stay up long into the night, wondering what you looked like and why you were kept hidden, imagining that I would ride up to the palace in a majestic horse to free you. I used to think that we’d…” He looked away, his cheeks coloring slightly. When he faced her again, his eyes gleamed with something that Soraya couldn’t recognize. “Do you see now why I recognized you? You’re my favorite story. I feel like I’ve known you for a long time.”
Soraya drew in a breath, unable to speak. For the first time, she saw herself as Azad had imagined her—the heroine of a story, not the monster. It was only an illusion, of course, born from a young boy’s uninformed romantic dreams, but for the space of a breath, she let herself enjoy it.
She didn’t want to tell him the truth. She wanted his version of her to keep existing, if only in his mind. And so she knew what she had to do.
“Well, you did come to my rescue today, so now that you’ve lived out your dreams, I’ll be on my way.”
His face fell at once, a wrinkle of dismay forming at the center of his forehead. “Is there anything I can say to persuade you to stay and talk with me for a little longer?”
Soraya smiled sadly and shook her head. “Trust me. It’s better that we—”
But before she finished speaking, a loud voice startled them both: “I thought I saw you in the crowd.”
She and Azad both turned at once to see the approaching figure of Ramin. She took a hasty step away from Azad, but that only made her look guiltier.
“It’s reckless of you to be out on such a crowded day.” He looked at her with a significant arch of his eyebrow. “You’ve even made a new friend. Are you sure that’s wise?”
All of Soraya’s muscles tightened at once. He wouldn’t dare tell Azad about her curse—to do so was to risk angering the royal family. Soraya was torn between the competing urges to shrink away, or step forward and show him she was unafraid. But her guilt from almost losing control the night before still lingered, and so Soraya simply said, “That’s none of your concern, Ramin.”
But Ramin wasn’t even looking at her anymore—he was focused on Azad, who was standing stiffly, not moving or speaking. Ramin moved closer, coming to stand directly in front of him. Only then did Azad take a breath, his shoulders drawing back so that he was standing at his full height. There was a strange energy surrounding Azad, like clouds gathering before a storm, or the stillness of a snake about to strike. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.
“You’re that villager we brought back,” Ramin said. He lifted his chin, his arms crossed, and nodded at Azad in approval. “You proved yourself to us all that day, so let me give you some advice, from one soldier to another: stay away from this one.”
Azad tilted his head slightly, his long neck moving with slow, deliberate grace. “I don’t think I need your advice,” he said.
“Ramin, this isn’t necessary,” Soraya interrupted, trying to keep her voice calm.
Ramin looked directly at Soraya, disdain curling his lip, and said, “I don’t need to hear from you, Soraya. You’re not part of this conversation.”
There was a sudden cracking sound—the snake had struck at last. Soraya barely even saw Azad’s fist move, but it must have, because now Ramin was sprawled on the grass, rubbing his jaw.
And for the first time since Ramin had approached them, Azad looked away from him and turned to Soraya. “I’m sorry,” he said at once, but his eyes were still burning with anger, his hand still closed into a fist.
Soraya felt that strange energy wrap around her now, the two of them practically trembling with it. And she realized that her hand was also a fist, like she had struck Ramin herself, like Azad had become an extension of her. He was the arm of her anger, lashing out when she could not. He was the force of her rage, unbound.
She looked Azad in the eye and shook her head. “Don’t be,” she said, with a firmness that surprised her.
Ramin pushed himself up from the ground, a dark bruise already starting to appear on his jaw. “That was a mistake,” he said to Azad. Ramin started to charge toward him, but Soraya threw herself in between them, forcing Ramin to come to a sudden stop directly in front of her.
And now Soraya was the snake, her venom far deadlier than Azad’s, and she wanted nothing more than to strike. She took a step toward Ramin, gratified when he took a hurried step back, a flash of fear in his eyes.
But the flash quickly transformed into a triumphant glint, and Soraya knew what was about to happen even as she knew she couldn’t stop it.
“Don’t think me a coward,” he said to Azad over Soraya’s shoulder. “I would fight you right here, but you have an unfair advantage. This girl is poisonous—cursed by a div. If you ever touch her, you’ll die.”
All the blood drained out of her as Ramin spoke, and she felt like she was made of ice, cold enough to burn. Soraya was glad her back was to Azad, in case her veins were visible. Something familiar was bubbling inside her—the same cruel urge that had made her want to hurt Ramin the night before. And as she had done last night, she swallowed the urge down and tried not to choke.
Ramin smirked at her in satisfaction and walked away. Laleh wasn’t enough for him, Soraya thought. He won’t be content until I’m completely alone.
Even when Ramin was gone, Soraya couldn’t face Azad. “It’s true,” she called back to him, the words scraping her throat. “That’s the secret you’ve always wanted to know. The mysterious shahzadeh was cursed by a div when she was just an infant, and that’s why she must be hidden away. If you touch me, you’ll die.”
She turned to him, knowing from the feel of blood rushing through her that her veins were etched dark green in her face. Azad was watching her, his face solemn, his eyes sad.
“Well,” she said, holding her gloved hands out to him, “am I still your favorite story?”
5
In a way, Soraya was relieved that Ramin had told Azad her secret. She had liked Azad’s version of her too much—it would have been hard to walk away from it. Let Azad be the one to walk away, then, and let him do it now, before she grew too attached.
But even as her half-taunting question still hung in the air, Azad didn’t back away. He came closer to her, so close that she saw the stubble along his jaw. He tilted his head, brown curls falling over his forehead. “You’re better than any story, shahzadeh banu … Soraya,” he murmured. She barely heard him, but she watched his lips form her name. He gave a slight, disbelieving shake of his head, as if surprised by the depth of his emotion. “In my mind, you were only a shadow. But now, I can see you and know you for what you are, beautiful yet deadly. I can speak to you. I can touch you.” Slowly, tentatively, he reached up to draw her hair away from her face, revealing more of the veins spreading out along her neck like vines. Beautiful yet deadly, he had called her. Somehow, he made one sound as sweet as the other.