Page 37 of The Shrouded Queen
“Really.”
His eyes bored into mine for several seconds before he saw that I meant it. Then they dropped to my lips. “Thank you, my queen,” he rasped.
My gaze dropped, too, to those full lips I’d tasted more times than I could count, and a flush spread over my skin. Unconsciously, my thumb grazed his bottom lip, and they parted ever so slightly. Hehadn’t kissed me after the chimera attack, but he’d kiss me now. All I had to do was lean down one more inch. In that moment, with him looking up at me as if I were one of the stars in the night sky, recalling how much he loved being on his knees for the Gods-Chosen, I wanted nothing more than to indulge in the oblivion his dark gaze promised.
But a strange pit in my stomach blocked the heat in my blood from funneling any lower. A gnawing sensation that felt a lot like guilt. I was no longer thinking about how messy it’d be to fuck in the sand but rather what expression he’d wear when I put him on his knees in the Temple of Shaya. If it would be that same wounded look. If it would be so much worse.
I swallowed hard and pulled away. “Come on. Before someone sees us.” I turned and strode ahead into Reeda, not waiting to see if he followed me. I knew he would. He always did.
That gnawing feeling remained, infuriating me with every step. I shouldn’t care about wounded looks or a kiss. Ididn’tcare. I cared about Shaya and whatheexpected of me. I cared about feeling his breeze again, feeling his love, his security, his acceptance.
Nothing else.
Because if I did…
I scratched my nape. Hard.
We headed toward the largest house in the center of the city, with a pair of guards posted outside the door. Their leather armor was Reeda orange, with a vague rendering of a man with suns for eyes in the center. Ketet’s husband, Phadar, God of the Sun. They watched our approach with narrowed eyes.
When we were close enough, I pulled off my wig and proclaimed, “I am Amunet Khada, and I’d like an audience with Prince Nasir Miqaf.”
Shock flashed across their faces, and the guard on the left dropped his gaze to Jasim’s scimitars’ hilts, where the royal seal was stamped, a lotus flower floating in a lake of fire.
“Of course, Your Majesty,” he said quickly, and opened the door that led into the entryway—if the cramped space could even be called that.
A glance to the right revealed a sitting room. There wasn’t much in the way of furniture or decoration, and what was present was unimpressively fashioned out of wicker. The cushions were threadbare, feathers or cotton puffing out of the holes like they were actively fighting their fabric prisons.
But the guard turned to the left and announced, “Queen Amunet Khada to see you, my prince.” Then he stepped aside, and I entered the dining room.
A table with a meager six chairs swallowed the space. Five of the occupants wore the Reeda uniform. Prince Nasir was easy to recognize, with the pointed ears that poked through the forest of braids hanging on either side of his face and the gold-flecked brown eyes that hinted at the jinni magic in his veins.
Those unique eyes flew wide at my appearance. “My queen!” Nasir exclaimed in shock before lurching to his feet and slamming both his legs into the table, sending bowls of indeterminate food sloshing. I cringed.
The prince swore as he staggered back and hit the wall behind him. He was a slender but tall man about ten years older than me with dark skin. He had to stoop so his head wouldn’t hit the low ceiling. A female guard beside him put out a hand to steady him, but he batted her away and straightened, smoothing his hands down his shirt before he plastered on a smile, blinking like a blinded owl. “My queen,” he said again, bowing so deep that a few of his braids fell into his bowl. “You’re… here. In Reeda. Alive.”
“Indeed I am.”
“What a… delight. Yes, of course, I am delighted to see you! It’s just that… we had word from Ketopolis that the Kaldfolk infiltrated the palace and took you prisoner. It was our assumption that you’d been killed, like the king.”
Taken prisoner? That meant the Kaldfolk had left Khada Palaceandmy decoy could still be alive. If that was the Kaldfolk’s plan, they must have a bigger purpose for the Gods-Chosen. My decoy’s deception couldn’t last much longer, and when they finally realized the truth, they’d come for me again. Not to mention that news of Zaid’s death had evidently beaten us to Reeda. If it had reached Nasir, it could have reached Ilias, Anwar, and Sen, too.
I did not even have Shaya to protect me. Jasim would do his best, but we’d gotten lucky to escape Khada Palace with just a few scratches. Without my father’s help, I didn’t think we’d be lucky a second time.
I needed to get to the Temple of Shaya. Quickly.
“Clearly I’m not dead,” I replied to Nasir.
He smiled. “No. Though someone should check you’re not a ghost.” He laughed and made a move as if to check for himself but knocked his knee on the table leg, sending more food splattering over the tabletop. “Shit,” he muttered, while the gathered soldiers did their best to right the mess.
I swallowed a sigh. Somehow I’d misremembered Nasir as only slightly clumsy instead of the bumbling buffoon he was.
This was my salvation. How comforting.
Before I could demand supplies or a small contingent to take me to the Wastelands, Nasir said, “You must be exhausted from your long journey. We’ll have rooms prepared for you right away. In the meantime, please, eat.” He flapped his hands frantically at the girl in fighting leathers beside him, whose hair was wrapped in a headscarf.
She sent me a dirty look as she rose and grabbed a plate for me, and the back of my neck burned. I fisted my hands at my sides to keep from scratching—and to keep from lashing out at her. King Zaid would have her punished for such a blatant display of disrespect. But I didn’t think a show of brute strength would win me any favors. Biting back my anger, I watched her assemble bits of chicken, flatbread, and what could be either watery cheese or congealedmilk. My nose threatened to curl, but I fought it, nodding my thanks as I accepted the plate.
Another guard vacated their seat, and I took it, sitting directly across from Nasir, who managed to lower himself back into his chair without spontaneously combusting. Jasim remained at my back. A glance out of the corner of my eye showed he was firmly gripping both scimitars.
