Alizeh could not move, she was so mesmerized.
The last time she’d dared stop for so long in the street she’d been assaulted by a child thief, and yet—how could she deny herself such an indulgence now, when she’d not been free to enjoy daylight in so long? This living, breathing world was hers to admire for this single moment in time, and she wanted to breathe it in; to luxuriate in the beating heart of civilization.
After tonight, she would never see it again.
If things went well, she’d be gone from here; if they went poorly, she’d have no choice but to flee.
Tears sprang to Alizeh’s eyes even as she smiled.
She managed to forge a path through the saffron spreads, stopping only when startled by a display of blooms arranged in the window of a nearby florist: winter roses, butter-colored camellias, and white snowdrops smiled up at her from their cut-crystal vase, and Alizeh was so enchanted by the sight she nearly collided with a farmer, who’d stopped without warning to feed alfalfa to his shaggy goat.
Unsettled, her nerves would not now quiet.
Hastily Alizeh moved aside, wedging herself against the window of a millinery shop. She tried to shutter her mind but it was no good; her subconscious would no longer submit. She was battered at once by a deluge of remembered sensations: the whisper of a voice against her ear, a smile against her cheek, the weight of arms around her body. She still tasted him on her lips, could still summon the silky texture of his hair, the hard line of his jaw under her hand. The memories alone were devastating.
Over and over Alizeh had tried to understand why the devil had warned her of the prince—and even now she was uncertain. Was this it, then?
Was it because of a kiss?
Alizeh tensed, took a breath. Even as her heart raced, her mind cooled. What had transpired between her and the prince was a moment of foolishness for a myriad of reasons—not the least of which was that he was heir to an empire whose sovereign sought to destroy her. She’d not yet even begun to unpack the ramifications of such a discovery, nor what explanations it might reveal for the beloved friends and family she’d lost to unexplained acts of violence. Did it mean the king had tried to kill her once before? Had it been he who’d issued the orders to murder her parents?
It troubled her that she could not know for certain.
Kamran might’ve circumvented the orders of his grandfather to help her today, but Alizeh was not a simple girl; she knew that relationships between kin were not so easily severed. The prince might have spared her a moment of kindness, but his allegiance, no doubt, was elsewhere.
Still, Alizeh could not condemn herself too harshly.
Not only had the dalliance been unplanned, it had been an unexpected reprieve—a rare moment of pleasure—from what seemed the interminable darkness of her days. For years she’d wondered whether anyone might ever again touch her with care, or look at her like she mattered.
She did not take lightly such an experience.
Indeed there had been a mercy in it, in its tenderness, which she would now gracefully accept, pocketing the memories before moving forward. Her thoughtless actions would never again be repeated.
Besides, she consoled herself, she and Kamran would never again cross paths, and all the better, though—
A flock of birds at her feet took flight without warning, disquieting Alizeh so thoroughly she gasped and stumbled backward, colliding with a young man who promptly caught sight of her snoda and sneered, elbowing her out of the way. A sharp knock to her ribs and again Alizeh doddered, though this time she caught herself, and hurried forward through the crowd.
She’d known, of course, even as she bade the prince farewell, that there was a chance she’d see him again at the ball that evening. She’d not felt it necessary to inform him of her attendance because she thought meeting him again a bad idea; and now that she knew the ball was in fact meant to facilitate his impending marriage—
No, she would not think of it.
It did not matter. It could not matter. In any case, their spheres had no hope of intersecting at such an event; she would not have cause to see him.
Alizeh did not know the full scope of Hazan’s plan for her escape, but she doubted it’d have much to do with the festivities themselves, and the prince—for whom the ball had been arranged—would no doubt be expected to engage fully in its activities.
No, they would certainly not see each other again.
Alizeh felt a pang at that conclusiveness, a sharp pain she could not decipher; it was either longing or grief, or perhaps the two feelings were identical, split ends of the same sword.