King Zaal nodded. “Their young king, Cyrus, is not to be trifled with. He murdered his own father, as you well know, for his seat at the throne, and his attendance at the ball tonight, while not an outright portent of war, is no doubt an unfriendliness we should approach with caution.”
“I fully agree.”
“Good. Very g—” His grandfather took a sharp breath, losing his balance for an alarming moment. Kamran caught King Zaal’s arms, steadying him even as the prince’s own heart raced now with fear. It did not matter how much he raged against his grandfather or how much he pretended to detest the older man; the truth was always here, in the terror that quietly gripped him at the prospect of his loss.
“Are you quite all right, Your Majesty?”
“My dear child,” said the king, his eyes briefly closing. He reached out, clasped the prince’s shoulder. “You must prepare yourself. I will soon be unable to spare you the sight of a blood-soaked countryside, though Lord knows I’ve tried, these last seven years.”
Kamran stilled at that; his mind grasping at a frightening supposition.
All his life he’d wondered why, after the brutal murder of his father, the king had not avenged the death of his son, had not unleashed the fury of seven hells upon the southern empire. It had never made sense to the young prince, and yet, he’d never questioned it, for Kamran had feared, for so long after his father’s death, that revenge would mean he’d lose his grandfather, too.
“I don’t understand,” Kamran said, his voice charged now with emotion. “Do you mean to say that you made peace with Tulan—for my sake?”
The king smiled a mournful smile. His weathered hand fell away from the prince’s shoulder.
“Does it shock you,” he said, “to discover that I, too, possess a fragile heart? A weak mind? That I, too, have been unwise? Indeed, I’ve been selfish. I’ve made decisions—decisions that would affect the lives of millions—that were motivated not by the wisdom of my mind, but by the desires of my heart. Yes, child,” he said softly. “I did it for you. I could not bear to see you suffer, even as I knew that suffering was inevitable.
“I tried, in the early hours of the morning,” the king went on, “to take control of my own failings, to punish you the way a king should punish any man who proves disloyal. It was an overcorrection, you see. Compensation for a lifetime of restraint.”
“Your Majesty.” Kamran’s heart was pounding. “I still don’t understand.”
Now King Zaal smiled wider, his eyes shining with feeling. “My greatest weakness, Kamran, has always been you. I wanted always to shelter you. To protect you. After your father”—he hesitated, took an unsteady breath—“afterward, I could not bear to part from you. For seven years I managed to delay the inevitable, to convince our leaders to set down their swords and make peace. Instead, as I stand now at the finish of my life, I see I’ve only added to your burden. I ignored my own instincts in exchange for an illusion of relief.
“War is coming,” he whispered. “It has been a long time coming. I only hope I’ve not left you unprepared to face it.”
Thirty-Two
ALIZEH DROPPED HER CARPET BAG to the ground outside the servants’ entrance to Follad Place, all too eager to relinquish the luggage for a moment. The large box that held her gown, however, she only readjusted in her tired arms, unwilling to set it down unless absolutely necessary.
The long day was far from over, but even in the face of its many difficulties, Alizeh was hopeful. After a thorough scrub at the hamam she felt quite new, and was buoyed by the realization that her body would not be battered again so quickly by interminable hours of hard labor. Still, it was hard to be truly enthusiastic about the reprieve, for Alizeh knew that if things went poorly this evening, she’d be hard-pressed to find such a position again.
She shifted her weight; tried to calm her nerves.
Just last evening Follad Place had seemed to her terribly imposing, but in the dying light of day it was even more striking. Alizeh hadn’t noticed before just how robust the surrounding gardens were, nor how beautifully tended, and she wished she hadn’t cause at all to notice such details now.
Alizeh did not want to be here.
She’d been avoiding as long as possible this last, inevitable task for the day, having arrived at Follad Place only to return Miss Huda’s unfinished gown, and to accept with grace the lambasting and condemnation she’d no doubt receive in exchange. It was perhaps a minimization of the truth to say that she was not looking forward to the experience.