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Her heart stopped.
Yasmine dropped to her knees with a surprised yelp, lowering her gaze as a figure haltingly entered the room.
Zafira heard the weight of his surprised inhale. The breathless murmur of her name that sent shivers down her spine.
She saw the struggle in his limbs, the way half of him pitched forward, the other half holding him back. He still wore the fitted thobe from the feast, matted with dark blood and dusted in sand.
“Shall I get down on my knees before you, my prince?”
Her beautiful, bloody prince.
His answer was a whispered invocation. “Never.”
Yasmine made a sound, but he barely registered her presence until she rose to her full height. He blinked down at her, and it was impossible to believe he was unaffected by her beauty.
“Forgive me,” he said hoarsely, and stiffly flourished two fingers from his brow. “I will, uh”—he cleared his throat—“I will return at another time.”
He closed the door. Yasmine whirled to her, gaping.
“That was … that was the crown prince. He looked at you—khara.” Yasmine stopped, and the room was suddenly very warm. “A moment longer and he would have torn every last bit of that yellow—khara. Theoretical, I said. Sweet skies, Zafira. Deen for the Prince of Death—”
“Don’t.”
The word cut harsh, and the room echoed with her command.
“Don’t?” Yasmine repeated. “He’s—a monster, Z
afira. My brother for a monster.”
Zafira would have flinched or fought. She would have been offended on his behalf. But Zafira had lived with Yasmine, and she herself had shared in that thinking, that the Crown Prince of Arawiya was not a boy, but a beast.
Until he wasn’t.
Yasmine left, and the door stayed closed. Zafira leaned back. What a fool she’d been to think a friendship such as theirs could be mended in an afternoon.
CHAPTER 66
In the hall, Nasir clenched his fist against the wall and dropped his head to the crook of his arm.
The rise and fall of her chest made him want to weep. The sight of that smile he’d thought he’d never see again—rimaal. Crazed joy echoed in his limbs, crowded in his throat, worked his lungs for breath. Like a drunkard finally sobering, Nasir knew what had happened to him, and what her near death made him realize.
He didn’t dare think the words.
“Shukrun for letting me know before you shoved me down that hall,” Nasir said, trying to keep his voice steady.
“I thought you’d enjoy the surprise,” Altair said, his face finally free of those terrible streaks of blood. “That was a short visit, by the way. Don’t you know what you’re supposed to do with the door closed?”
Nasir pretended he didn’t understand. “She wasn’t alone.”
“Ah, so you do know—”
“Not. Another. Word,” Nasir bit out. Haytham’s son clung even closer to Altair’s leg. Nasir sequestered his wayward thoughts and burned them.
The general shrugged, patting the boy with inattentive reassurance. “You know as crown prince, you can ask anyone to vacate the room, yes?”
“As well as you know I’m not one for ordering people around.”
“Could’ve fooled me—”
