How? How was she here? Had she come for him? Had she come to find him, to be with him—？
“Your Highness,” someone was saying.
“Sire, are you quite all right?” Another.
The prince watched, as if from outside himself, as a young man grabbed Alizeh’s hand. She spun around to face him, her eyes widening in surprise, then recognition.
He said something, and she laughed.
Kamran felt the sound spear him like a blade, his chest seizing with an unfamiliar pain. It was an ache unlike any he’d known; one he wished to tear out of his chest.
“That’s him,” Hazan whispered suddenly in his ear.
Kamran took a breath and drew back, the scene around him coming sharply into focus. Alizeh had gone; disappeared into the crowd. He saw instead the worried eyes of his aunt, the curious gaze of Lady Golnaz. The frenzy of the bloated crowd before him.
“It’s the gentleman with the copper hair, Your Highness. The one carrying the unusual hat. The Tulanian ambassador has confirmed it.”
It was a moment before the prince was able to say: “Is he quite certain?”
“Yes, sire.”
“Bring him to me,” Kamran said softly.
Thirty-Six
ALIZEH HAD SPIRALED AS SHE fell, plummeting through layers of night, nearing a death that grazed her skin without claiming her soul. She thought she’d heard herself scream as she tumbled, but she’d wondered, too, in a flickering moment, whether she might actually be dreaming, whether her whole life was not some strange, shimmering tapestry, infinite threads of nonsense.
She’d felt her feet hit the ground first, the impact shuddering up her legs, her hips, rattling her teeth. When she opened her eyes she’d crashed against him, braced herself against his chest. Music roared in her ears as she reared back, her head spinning, the din of chatter and laughter piercing the fog of her mind, the smell of sugar in her nose, the crush of bodies against her skin.
There was heat and sweat, sound and sensation—too much of everything. Still, she realized at once where she was, and worried right away for Miss Huda. She pushed away from the stranger and began to search for her new friend, wondering whether the girl had made it through, wondering whether she’d lost forever the ability to speak.
Alizeh trusted the stranger no longer.
She didn’t care if he was an ally of Hazan’s. How could she now believe anything he said? He’d proven both cruel and capricious, and she would never again le—
Someone took her hand and Alizeh spun, startled, to discover the very same blue-eyed, capricious stranger. She stared at their clasped hands, then at his face, wondering whether she imagined the terror that flitted in and out of his eyes.
“Where are you going?” He sounded different; the antithesis of the impassive young man she’d first met. “You don’t intend to run away, do you?”
Alizeh was so surprised by the fear in his eyes that she laughed. “No, I’m not running away, you ridiculous creature. I’m searching for Miss Huda. She is doubtless terrified somewhere and unable to call for help—because of what you did to her.”
Alizeh tugged her hand free from his and pushed on through the crowd, grateful for the protections offered her by the gown—and then frowned, biting her lip as she remembered who’d given her the garment.
He’d not lied to her about this, at least. The dress really was a miracle.
People seemed to pass by her as if she did not exist, their gazes never quite touching her face. It was unsettling to think so many strangers did not wish her well, but it was a comfort, too, not to worry about her eyes or her snoda. There was no one here to spit at her, no one to shove her out of the way, no one to order her to scrub feces out of porous stonework.
Still, Alizeh was made uneasy by the knowledge that she owed this peculiar stranger any thanks for her safety, for everything about him seemed suddenly traitorous. If he had the ability to render Miss Huda mute, what might he do to Alizeh if she crossed him? In fact, it was possible the dress and shoes were a trap. What if they’d been bewitched to carry her somewhere unsafe? What if she followed her feet to her own demise? Perhaps she should discard the gown—or destroy it. But then what about the shoes? What would she wear instead?
How would she escape?
“I have undone it,” the stranger called, trailing close behind.
Alizeh started, turned back. “You’ve undone what?”
“The other girl. The loud one,” he said. “She will be able to speak again.” He made no effort to lower his voice even as he closed the gap between them, evincing no apparent worry for being overheard.