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This Woven Kingdom(This Woven Kingdom #1)(59)

Author:Tahereh Mafi

“Don’t be stupid,” Hazan said, but Kamran could tell his heart wasn’t in it. “You know it is more than that. You know it is about far more than you.”

Kamran shook his head.

“I have sentenced her to death, Hazan, and you know that is true. It’s why you were loath to tell me who she was that night. You knew even then what I had wrought.”

“Yes. That.” Hazan dragged a hand down his face. He looked tired suddenly. “And then I saw you with her, in the street that night. You miserable liar.”

Kamran lifted his head slowly. He felt his pulse pick up.

“Oh yes,” Hazan said quietly. “Or did you think me so incapable of finding you in a rainstorm? I am not blind, am I? Neither am I deaf, unfortunately.”

“How very accomplished you are,” Kamran said softly. “I admit I had no idea my minister aspired to the stage. I suspect you’ll be changing careers imminently.”

“I’m quite satisfied where I am, thank you.” Hazan shot a sharp look at the prince. “Though I think it is I who should be congratulating you, sire, on your fine performance that evening.”

“All right. Enough,” said Kamran, exhausted. “I’ve let you berate me at your leisure. No doubt we’ve both had our fill of this unpleasantness.”

“Nevertheless,” Hazan said. “You cannot convince me that your concern for the girl is all about the goodness of her heart—or yours, for that matter. You are perhaps in part moved by her innocence; yes, I might be persuaded to believe that; but you are also at war within yourself, reduced to this state by an illusion. You know nothing of this girl, meanwhile it has been foretold by our esteemed Diviners that she is to usher in the fall of your grandfather. With all due respect, sire, your feelings on the subject should be uncomplicated.”

At that, Kamran fell silent, and a quiet minute stretched out between them.

Finally, Hazan sighed. “I admit I could not see her face that night. Not the way you did. But I gather the girl is beautiful?”

“No,” said the prince.

Hazan made a strange sound, something like a laugh. “No? Are you quite certain?”

“There’s little point in discussing it. Though if you saw her, I think you would understand.”

“I think I understand enough. I must remind you, sire, that as your home minister, my job is to keep you safe. My chief occupation is ensuring the security of the throne. Everything I do is to keep you alive, to protect your interests—”

Kamran laughed out loud. Even to himself he sounded a bit mad. “Don’t fool yourself, Hazan. You have not protected my interests.”

“Removing a threat to the throne is a protection of your interests. It does not matter how beautiful the girl is, or how kind. I will remind you once more that you do not know her. You’ve never spoken more than a few words to the girl—you could not know her history, her intentions, or of what she might be capable. You must put her out of your mind.”

Kamran nodded, his eyes searching the tea leaves at the bottom of his cup. “You do realize, Minister, that by having the girl murdered my grandfather is ensuring that she remains embedded in my mind forever?”

Hazan released a breath, exhaling an obvious frustration. “Do you not see what power she already holds over you? This young woman is your direct enemy. Her very existence is a threat to your life, to your livelihood. And yet—look at yourself. Reduced to these infantile behaviors. I fear, sire, you will be disappointed to discover that your mind at the moment is as common and predictable as the infinite others who came before you. You are neither the first nor the last man on earth to lose his sensibilities over a pretty face.

“Does it not frighten you, sire? Are you not terrified to imagine what you might do for her—what you might do to yourself—if she became suddenly real? If she were to become flesh and blood under your hands? Does this not strike you as a terrible weakness?”

Kamran felt his heart move at the thought, at the mere imagining of her in his arms. She was everything he’d never realized he wanted in his future queen: not just beauty, but grace; not just grace, but strength; not just strength, but compassion. He’d heard her speak enough to know she was not only educated but intelligent, proud but not arrogant.

Why should he not admire her?

And yet, Kamran did not hope to save her for himself. Hazan might not believe it, but the prince didn’t care: saving the girl’s life was about so much more than himself.

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