become her prayer for the
evening. Repeating it soothed her, snipping the nervous threads
coiling through her limbs. Tonight she would be gone. Tonight she
would be free. And she would never have to pretend for any man ever
again. Mikza would be hers and she would be his, and everyone they
met would know it.
Tonight.
The music began to wind down and the vision
faded, replaced by graying hairs and a too wide smile that made
Leena flinch.
"Enjoying ourselves?"
She stiffened, feet halting immediately.
Leena knew that voice.
"Of course, my King," Lord Padmir rushed,
bowing so quickly that he almost toppled over.
Leena moved more slowly, cautiously. Her
father had paid her no attention all night, but it seemed that gift
was finally gone. Standing behind her, he looked as commanding as
ever. Off the throne, but still graced with the crown and an air of
arrogance, King Razzaq knew how to impose. And at that moment, his
umber eyes glimmered with intelligence, putting Leena on edge.
What did he know?
"Yes, my King," she said, forcing a smile
through her teeth, trying to calm her suddenly racing pulse. "Who
could do anything less than enjoy such a wonderful party,
especially in honor of the wedding of my dear sister?"
"Who indeed?" He smiled, too sweetly. Eyes
flicking to the lord, he said, "Leave us."
Leena gulped, resisting the urge to find
Mikza, to make sure he was all right. Looking at him now would only
encourage her father's suspicions, would only endanger them
both.
"You seem happy tonight."
"Of course, Father," she answered, mouth
suddenly dry. "I am only excited that it is now my time to be
matched."
"Do not lie to me, girl," he said, gripping
her wrist tight enough to bruise. To an outside observer, it might
look like a touch of affection. But his eyes were furious. "I have
heard it all before. Do not forget that I had sisters, and there
were other daughters before you."
"I'm not sure what you mean, Father." Leena
fought to keep her voice even, but the pain in her wrist only
mirrored the fear in her heart, both making her body shake.
"Enough," he growled, pulling her in close,
digging his fingers into her arm. "You will share one more dance of
my choosing and then retire for the evening. Understood?"
Leena nodded, not trusting her voice. His
rings were scraping her skin, chafing it raw, so she closed her
eyes against the hurt.
Somehow, he knew.
Yasmine. It was the only explanation Leena
could think of, but they had given nothing away.
Mikza?
Leena forced her neck still, fought to keep
her head from jerking to the side, from finding him. Moments ago
she had seen his smile, was it possible he had so quickly been
taken? That things could so quickly change?
"Good," the king sneered, releasing Leena
and stepping back. Placing his hand at her back, he pushed her
forward. Not forceful enough to be noticed, but with power. Leena
could not run, she could only step where her father wished, feeling
like she marched to her grave and not to a dance partner.
"Lord Biitar," her father called, voice
suddenly jovial. The old lord turned, Leena recognized him.
"My King," he said, bowing informally in
greeting. No surprise shone on his mature face. This moment had
been planned, Leena was sure of it. "May I introduce my son,
Amosaan. Amo to our closest companions, which I hope you will soon
become."
A young man stepped forward, skin firm with
hardened muscles. Tattoos of curved daggers and harsh waves
decorated his forearms. His face was pleasant, jaw square with soft
lips and eyes a muddled hazel, unusual for the Ourthuri. She knew
him, of course, but couldn't remember interacting with him before.
Something about his smile seemed too kind to be trusted.
"Our daughter, Princess Leenaka," her father
said, shoving her closer to the boy. She curtsied and offered her
hand. He lifted it gently, placing a soft kiss on the backside of
her palm. Fighting the urge to scream and run, Leena let her hand
fall slowly back to her