Page 69 of Queen of Shadows and Ruin

Yasen bounced on the ball of one foot and then the other as everyone awaited her response. He was nervous. More nervous than he could remember being in a long time. He noted the queensguard stationed around the room with their hands all carefully cradling the hilts of their swords. Yasen wondered what their orders were. Hear them out and then attack? Or allow Miraan to walk out of here?

Yasen moved an inch closer to the prince, gripping his sword. A few noted the shift but displayed no outward signs of aggression.

Yasen’s attention returned to Dishani, who was struggling to sit up. A vanshaj attendant rushed to help using her good arm. She drew in deep, rattling breaths as she carefully placed her feet on the ground. She must be in immense pain despite whatever relief Koura had been able to offer.

Once seated, she reached for the edge of her veil and slowly lifted it.

Yasen had seen it all. Bodies blown apart. Men hacked to pieces. But he swallowed thickly at the sight of her ruined face. Charred skin and red oozing welts covered one half, her right eye was gone, and her lips were a twisted mass of cartilage.

“This is what they did to me,” she said. Her voice was weak but fueled with so much rage and anger that it practically vibrated in the air. “I will not rest until every single one of them suffers like I have.”

Miraan had gone as white as a sheet. “Dishani,” he whispered, his voice on the edge of cracking. “I’m so sorry it came to this. I never wanted anything like this to happen.”

“You did this,” she replied. “You are responsible for all of this.”

Miraan dropped his head, his dark hair falling around his face and his shoulders shaking. It took every ounce of self-restraint not to rush over and comfort him.

Yasen wasn’t really the comforting sort, but he had to admit that Miraan had found some secret place he hadn’t known was there.

“Dishani—”

“Get out,” she said with a bit more force this time. “I allowed you to come here only because we share blood, but after you leave today, you are dead to me. A price is on your head, and should you come anywhere near the palace again, my guards have orders to kill you on the spot.”

“Dishani!” exclaimed Talin from the corner. “You can’t mean that! He wasn’t the one who hurt you.”

Dishani ignored him as she dropped her veil and then leaned back, once again moving with great difficulty. Her servants swarmed around her, helping her get comfortable.

“Dishani—” Miraan pleaded as he stood. A moment later, the queensguard surrounded him with their blades pointed at him and Yasen.

“You’ve been granted leave to exit the palace,” one said. “Once you cross the threshold, all royal protections shall be removed. You have two minutes.”

Miraan opened and then closed his mouth as he glanced at his sister, clearly trying to understand how she could mean any of this.

“I think we’d better go,” Yasen said gently, and Miraan blinked before he turned, tears forming in his eyes. He looked at his brother and then back at Dishani. Finally, he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Very well,” he whispered before the pair were escorted out of the palace and all but shoved out the exit. The door thudded behind them with a resounding boom, and Miraan spun around, staring back as if he couldn’t believe he’d just been tossed from his home.

Yasen noted the guards manning the walls with their crossbows cocked.

“Okay,” Yasen said as he wrapped a hand around Miraan’s arm and tugged him through the plaza, “let’s get the fuck out of here before one of those bolts makes a home in your chest.”

Miraan didn’t have another chance to protest as Yasen practically dragged him into the roiling streets of Ishaan.

Well, that went as poorly as it possibly could have.

Time to consider a plan B.

Whatever that was.

TWENTY-ONE

“Bad news,” Abishek told Rabin and Zarya the following day over breakfast. He held a note that had just been delivered by his manservant, Omar.

Rabin sipped his coffee, trying to keep from wincing. His body ached from head to toe, and he was feeling more and more lethargic with each passing day. It had taken all his willpower to maintain a healthy facade last night.

As usual, they ate in the king’s solarium, the windows filtering soft light across the flowers and trees. Last night, it had snowed, dusting everything with a fresh blanket of pristine white.

Despite whatever drug-induced haze Abishek had lost himself in at the party, the invite had found them in her room first thing this morning.