Page 11 of A Filling of Fables and Firelight

“Yes, but what it is exactly, I’m not sure. I think they’re afraid of the results being skewed if the details are commonly known. All I was told was that all the contestants need to be equally uninteresting.”

“When do the dresses need to be ready?” Dan held out his hands for the bolt, and Rana passed it to him gratefully.

She reached around her grandmother for the basket of trimmings. “Two weeks. Theoretically, by then they will be down to five contestants rather than six, but, of course, I have no idea who will be eliminated. Thankfully the pattern I’m using is adaptable.”

“I hear the first round is a series of interviews with the Sultan,” Teta said. “Perhaps he can give you some insight as to who to focus on.”

“Pfft. You assume that there will be any more conversations between myself and His Majesty.” Rana shook her head, ignoring the strange thrill of excitement that bubbled in her chest at the thought of Kamaran’s teasing smirk. “I’m sure he’ll have plenty to keep him occupied now that the Queen’s Contest is officially starting off.”

Her grandmother smiled cryptically. “You might be surprised.”

“I hope, for my own sake, I’m not.” She balanced her basket on her hip and kissed Teta on the cheek. “Try to stay out of trouble.”

“No promises.”

With a fond chuckle, Rana turned to Dan and Aida. “Thank you for letting her stay here.”

“Of course. We’re happy to have her.” Dan pulled Aida through the door and gestured Rana through. “Do you need help carrying all of this back?”

“I’ll send Jasper.”

With a final goodbye, Rana stepped out of the tailor shop and began retracing her steps back to the palace. She shifted through the contents of her basket as she walked, making a mental list of how each material would be used. Her fingers brushed the smooth edges of a box, and she stopped, pushing the thread and trimming aside to reveal a box decorated with a pattern of gold and scarlet. Curious, she lifted the lid, then a wide smile spread across her face.

The box was filled to the brim with Teta’s perfect, jewel-toned cubes of Adhavian Delight.

Not even a troublesome Sultan with his infuriating charm and dangerously dark eyes could ruin her day now.

Chapter Seven

KAMARAN

“I’m so sorry, could you repeat that?” Kamaran leaned forward in his chair, turning his head slightly as he strained his ears to catch the words of the woman seated across from him.

“I like gardening.” The current subject of his interview, Laila, raised her voice enough to be barely audible as a deep blush spread from her neck up to her cheeks. Her eyes made contact with his for only a few seconds before dropping back down to her lap, where her hands were folded together nervously.

I don’t know how this poor girl got past the selection committee. She seems sweet enough, but anyone in the court with political ambition would eat her alive.

He gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile, though he doubted she could see it. “Gardening is an admirable pastime. We have several here at the palace that you’re welcome to visit any time you wish.”

Laila’s head lifted at that, and she finally held his gaze for longer than a breath. She looked younger than her age—a fact that was emphasized by her timid, quiet demeanor—with large, doe eyes and a doll-like face. “Really? I’ve seen the rose garden before, and the topiaries, but not the others.”

“The one on the east side with the fishpond is my favorite.” He relaxed into his chair, relieved that she was finally giving him more than two- or three-word answers. “If you ask one of the gardeners, they’ll let you feed them. My father and I used to do it every morning when I was a boy.”

Grief, sharp and heavy, crashed over him like a wave at the memory. His eyes burned with unshed tears that he willed away, shoving the emotions down into a mental box that he could set to the side and ignore.

They already think I’m irresponsible and unqualified. The last thing I need is to add “weak” to my list of faults.

He swallowed against the painful lump in the back of his throat and forced his face into a charming smile. “In fact, I would be happy to take you on a tour sometime, if you like.”

Laila’s eyes widened like a frightened rabbit caught by a fox. She squeaked, “Th–that’s very kind of you, Your Majesty.”

Kamaran breathed out a self-deprecating laugh, recognizing her unspoken discomfort. “Or you could always visit them on your own, if you would prefer to experience them in solitude.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

The rest of their interview was composed of intervals of awkward silence, broken only by his many failed attempts to draw her back into conversation. By the end of their allotted half-hour, Laila seemed just as eager for their time to be over as he was, and she practically darted for the door as soon as Zamar entered to escort her back to her waiting attendants.

Kamaran leaned his head against the back of the chair, closing his eyes as he let out a long, slow breath.