Page 2 of A Filling of Fables and Firelight

“It was several years ago—well before you started working here.”

“But still.” She set her hands on hips and shook her head, secretly delighted to see a bit of Aida’s spark coming back. “That seems like something that would come up in conversation. If not from you, then Teta at the very least.” Her grandmother seemed to have a finger on the pulse of nearly everything that happened in El-Huram, and the crown prince being rejected in favor of a tailor was exactly the kind of story that she would have loved.

“Why? It was over almost as soon as it started.”

“And good riddance,” Jasper interjected.

“I’m not surprised. His Majesty is a notorious flirt, and his work ethic is questionable at best.” Rana cocked her head thoughtfully. “You probably would have been good for him.”

“So I was told.” Aida’s face softened with a sad, fond smile. “But I found I much preferred tailors to princes.”

Jasper snorted. “Of course you do. Dan is the best person in all of Adhavi, maybe even in the whole of Nomescia. And I’m his brother, so I would know.” He pushed away from the door. “Anyway, I only came here to tell you about the competition. You can do whatever you want with that information, but I just wanted you to know it was happening.”

“Thanks for letting me know, Jas,” Aida answered softly. “You should probably get back to your post now, though. I’m sure that for an event of this proportion, they’re going to need their best page more than ever.”

He responded by throwing his shoulders back with confidence and bidding them both farewell before rushing back out into the hot afternoon with Spot right on his heels. Rana breathed a laugh as she watched him go, then shook her head and returned to her work. “That boy.”

“He’s certainly a character.”

She picked up her traitorous needle and the long black skirt that was next on her list of alterations. Thankfully, this particular customer only needed the waistband let out, and she would be done with it within a quarter of an hour. “We should probably make sure that we’re stocked up on silk and thread in colors other than black. Oh, and likely ribbons and other trimmings as well.”

“Why do you say that?” Aida shifted on her stool so that she faced the workroom where Rana had settled.

“I don’t know how much you’ve learned about Adhavian traditions, but the Queen’s Contest is open to any eligible, well-born woman of marriageable age. There’s a preliminary round to narrow it down to ten, but anyone can add their name to the list for consideration.” Rana smiled sardonically. “I can almost guarantee that the moment it’s announced, we’re going to get a rush of orders from eager young misses who are certain they will be the one to steady our Sultan’s fickle, irresponsible ways.”

A thoughtful expression settled on Aida’s face. “I suppose if Kamaran were able to secure a marriage alliance, the contest wouldn’t be necessary.”

“Precisely. The fact that he’s likely offended or broken the heart of every eligible princess in Nomescia is doubtless what prompted the Viziers to act in the first place. We just have to hope that they’ll be able to find a woman in Adhavi who’s both strong enough to keep His Majesty in line and sensible and compassionate enough to be worthy of being queen.”

A tiny smirk played at the corner of Aida’s mouth. “Maybe you should put your name in. I think you could handle Kamaran.”

Rana dropped the skirt on her lap and threw up her hands to wave the idea away. “Absolutely not. I’m very happy where I am, thank you. I love my job here, and as long as I’m able to take care of Teta and afford the occasional box of Adhavian Delight, I am perfectly content. I don’t need to complicate my life by adding the care and keeping of a Sultan.”

“I doubt he would be much more demanding than that fox of yours.”

“See? Zade’s already royalty. Too many of those in a room and there could be a diplomatic disaster.”

Aida laughed. “We wouldn’t want that.”

“Exactly.” Rana nodded in agreement. “There is one good thing about all of this, at least.”

“What’s that?”

She picked up her needle. “No more black.”

Chapter Two

KAMARAN

“Let me get this straight.” Kamaran closed his eyes as he pressed his fingers into his temples, rubbing slow circles in an effort to release the hammers that pounded against the inside of his head. “You—along with the rest of the Council of Viziers—have decided that I am getting married. In two months. To a woman that I haven’t even met yet.”

“That is oversimplifying the matter terribly, Your Majesty.”

Kamaran peeled one eyelid open to glare at Zamar, his Chief Vizier. “Well, the matter is terrible. What in Adhavi made you flock of parrots think that this was a good idea?”

“Your Majesty, you are the Sultan now.” Zamar reached out to finger the petals of one of the bright red flowers that speckled the bush beside the garden bench Kamaran had sought for reprieve from the incessant clamoring of the court, then clasped his hands behind his back. His long dark beard bobbed as he spoke, contrasting starkly against the white and gold of his robes.

“I am aware,” Kamaran answered drily. “I was there when it happened.” His jaw clenched with the effort of keeping his indifferent mask in place at the reminder that he would never again see his father sitting in his place in the white marbled throne room, and the hammers seemed to redouble their efforts.