How could I tell her I did not have the words? Words… those were the least of my troubles. They were not my eyes, fastening to him as soon as he entered a room. My heart, beating in double at his nearness. But worst of all, I could not admit to Sefa that the Nizahl Heir made me feel most like myself—and myself was not someone I had the luxury of learning.
Vaida’s voice echoed from outside. “She’s coming!” Sefa panicked.
“Into the red wardrobe. Go!” I shoved her from the divan, waiting until she pulled the doors shut over herself to catapult over the bed. I closed the doors of the white wardrobe, immersing myself in darkness just as the door rattled.
I peered through the narrow slats in the wardrobe. The door burst open, and I had a surprisingly clear view of Vaida reeling into the room.
“This beggarly kingdom may lack in every other respect, but Omalian festivals”—she hiccupped—“do not disappoint.”
By her unsteady gait, the Sultana had not been conservative in her consumption of Omal’s wines. A second figure stepped forward, and I recognized the line of his broad shoulders before he spoke. “Watch your step,” Arin said.
Vaida tripped over a chair leg, careening into the Heir. She caught herself on Arin’s chest and seemed baffled to find her wrists clasped in a gloved grip and held away. Vaida frowned.
“Is this about yesterday? It was a misunderstanding. Don’t you believe me?” She arched up on her toes. I squinted, balanced precariously against the wardrobe doors.
“Have you never wondered what we would be like, Arin?” she murmured. “Don’t you ever do anything for the pure pleasure of it? You must; no control is so perfect.”
I could only see Arin’s profile, and I caught a glimpse of his implacable features. Unmoved by the most beautiful woman in all the kingdoms, the descendent of Baira herself.
“My control is far from perfect,” he said. “But it is better than yours.”
In a single motion, Arin pressed his fingers to a point on the Sultana’s neck and jerked her head to the side. Vaida’s eyes rolled back. I covered my mouth with both hands as he caught the Sultana’s limp body, depositing her on the bed. I let myself breathe when Vaida’s chest moved. He had only put her to sleep.
Arin drew Vaida’s bedside dresser forward. He swept his hand over the back, pausing halfway down. Angled out of my sight, I saw him straighten and extract a small box from his pocket.
He accomplished in a moment what you and your useless companion could not do in twenty, Hanim said.
He found the seal. What was he doing to it?
I mentioned the seal passingly the day I described Vaida’s offer to him. It should not have shocked me that even a brief mention served as a catalyst for Arin’s next plan.
He tucked the box into his pocket again, returning the seal to the back of the dresser. Arin paused on his way to the door, tilting his chin.
His hearing, you fool! Hanim reprimanded.
I smothered Vaida’s gown over my nose and mouth. Arin skimmed over the wardrobe, lingering for a beat that sent panic coursing through me. I exhaled when he turned away and opened the chamber’s doors.
“The Sultana took a tumble while removing her shoes and hit her head on the descent,” he said.
“Oh no! Shall I fetch the palace physician?” the guard gasped.
“The damage will only be a headache and a distorted memory of the evening,” Arin said. “I recommend you fetch ice. Immediately.”
“Of course,” the guard fretted. The door slammed shut behind them. I counted to ten before bursting through the wardrobe doors. Sefa followed suit, slapping aside the clinging gowns.
“Did you see what he did to the seal?”
“He rolled it in some sort of molding material,” Sefa answered. “How did he know where Vaida hid it?” She yanked the table forward. I glanced at Vaida, checking that she slumbered deeply.
“They have known one other since childhood,” I grunted, crouching behind the dresser. “It appears Vaida maintains her routines.”
The ring dangled from a nail Vaida had driven into the back of the dresser. Victorious, I picked it up—only to drop the ring as blistering heat scalded my fingers.
“What is it?” Sefa reached for the ring, and no sooner had she made contact with the metal object than she was withdrawing with a squeal. “It is warded against us.”
“How did he press it into the mold?”
Sefa tried to pick it up with the bottom of her gown. The fabric singed and blackened. “Perhaps his gloves afforded a measure of protection?”