It struck a traitorous image, even she could see that.
Shame suffused Alizeh’s skin with a sudden heat; shame she need not own or claim, but felt regardless. Her confusion and apprehension tripled; for her mind would not now cease conjuring new questions.
Had Hazan struck a deal with the Tulanian king? If so, how? Why? What grand favor would a minister have been able to provide a king, so much so that he’d risk his reputation as sovereign of a formidable empire to assist her? What on earth had Hazan done?
Alizeh looked up again when she heard the stranger’s voice.
“And you must be the prince,” he was saying. “The beloved Prince Kamran, the melancholy royal of Setar, friend to street child and servant alike. Your reputation precedes you, sire.”
“How dare you speak to the prince in such a manner, you miserable swine,” Miss Huda cried, angrily swiping at her tears before lifting the candelabra above her head. “Guards! Guards!”
“Oh, yes, by all means,” said the young king. “Please do summon the guards. Bring them forth, have them confess aloud their sins. All under the order of King Zaal are complicit in his crimes.”
Kamran drew his sword and approached the flames at a proximity that made Alizeh gasp.
“You would speak ill of the king in his own home—on his own land?” said the prince with thunderous calm. “Release the girl now, or I will have your head.”
“Pray tell me, sire, how will you reach my head? With what magic will you walk through fire to claim it? With what power will you extinguish mine when your Diviners are all dead?”
At that, the room erupted in gasps and shouts, cries of astonishment and fear. Alizeh spun around, taking it all in. Her heart wouldn’t stop racing in her chest.
“Is it true?”
“He’s a madman—”
“Where is the king?”
“—but it cannot be—”
“Don’t believe a word of it—”
“The king! Where is the king?”
King Zaal appeared then, came forth through the crowd with a silent dignity, his head held high even under the weight of a hulking crown.
The young king extinguished his fire at once, releasing Miss Huda in the process. Several people rushed to her side, helping her to safety, while the blue-eyed fool charged forward to meet King Zaal, erecting another fiery circle that trapped the two sovereigns inside.
Alizeh realized then that she would rather rot in the gutter than go anywhere with this copper-headed scoundrel. So these were the few tasks he’d meant to accomplish? This was the business he’d claimed wouldn’t take long?
Oh, she wanted to slap him.
“Your fight is with me, is it not?” King Zaal said quietly.
“Not at all,” said the fool brightly. “There will be no fight, Your Majesty. When I am done with you, you will be begging me to end your life.”
King Zaal barked a laugh.
Someone in the crowd screamed, “Call for the soldiers! The magistrates!”
“The magistrates?” The southern king laughed aloud. “You mean your weak, corrupt officials? Tell me, fine nobles of Ardunia, did you know that your magistrates are paid extra by the crown to collect street children?”
Alizeh felt Omid tense beside her.
“Ah, I can see by the looks in your eyes that you did not. And why would you, really? Who would even miss a surplus of orphaned children?”
“What do you want here?” King Zaal said sharply. He looked different then—angry, yes—but Alizeh thought he looked, for a moment—
Scared.
“Me?” The madman pointed to himself. “What do I want? I want a great deal too much, Your Highness. I’ve been bled dry for too long in repayment for my father’s sins and I’m tired of it; tired of being in debt to so cruel a master. But then, you know what that’s like, don’t you?”
King Zaal drew his sword.
Again, the southern king laughed. “Are you really going to challenge me?”
“Your Majesty, please—” Kamran moved forward as if to enter the fiery ring, and King Zaal held up a hand to stop him.
“No matter what happens tonight,” King Zaal said to him, “you must remember your duty to this empire.”
“Yes, but—”
“That is all, child,” he said thunderously. “Now you must leave me to fight my own battles.”
“As I’ve already told you, Your Highness.” The madman again. “There will be no battle.”
The Tulanian king raised his arm with a flourish and King Zaal’s robes tore open at the shoulders, revealing large swaths of skin that were both scaly and discolored.