Page 91 of The Shrouded Queen
“Please,” I murmured as my hand slid down his forearm. Nearly to the wrist. Almost—
“No!” He shoved me so hard, I slammed into the wall with a gasp. The sharp end of a blade scraped my throat yet again. A habit that was getting on my last fucking nerve. Malik glared at me with those unexceptional eyes. “Get away from me, demon.”
Demon. King Zaid snorted.Humiliated yourself for nothing.
I swallowed, cheeks searing. “Malik—”
“Stop.” He backed away, scimitar still brandished. “I will not betray my prince.”
“That wasn’t—”
The door slammed, and I flinched. My hope crashed like a birdfelled mid-flight. I stared blankly, stunned, as the dead bolt slid into place, locking me back in this tomb.
I stared at the candle until my eyes burned, until I saw it on the backs of my lids with every blink, and I prayed hard. Every dribble of wax that melted down its side, every millimeter of wick that burned away, I offered up to Shaya. And still I felt nothing.
My leg bounced anxiously, and I dug my nails into the skin of my arms. My fear had turned to rage. White, blinding rage.
A cage. Shaya was imprisoned in the Underworld, and I was imprisoned in an ugly, magic-proof iron cage. It was shameful that the two of us should be brought so low. He and I were the most powerful of our kind, yet he was left to while away his eternity and I was sitting here staring at a melting candle.
If it weren’t for the meals that came like clockwork, I’d have no way to tell the time. I was due for supper soon, which was how I knew it had been three days since Anwar had captured me.
Captured. Like an animal.
I scratched harder and turned to look over my shoulder.
The door was still closed. Just like it had been every time I looked back there.
Knots curled in the wood. They almost looked like eyes. Watching me. Anwar was watching me—or maybe someone else. These eyes were brown, the same shade as the door, not gold-flecked. But then whose were they? And why wouldn’t they look away—
I dug the heels of my palms into my eyes and forced myself to draw deep breaths. They weren’t eyes. It was just a gods-damn door. That’s all.
You’re going mad, said the king.
No, I wasn’t mad. I just needed to talk to Shaya.
A click sounded. It might as well have been a cannon for how hard I jumped.
Malik appeared with my supper in hand—a plate of unseasoned chicken and a cup of olive juice. I was instantly on my feet.
He brandished his scimitar. “Get back against the wall, Khada.”
My hands curled into fists so tight, my palms ached. But good behavior was important. I obediently turned and pressed my back against the wall under the sconce with the melting candle, several feet away from the door.
He didn’t take his eyes off me or lower his blade as he slowly crouched and set the plate on the floor at his feet.
“Could I speak to the prince?” I asked. For good measure, I added, “Please.”
“He’s busy,” he answered brusquely, and turned for the door.
“Wait! I’ll make a bargain with Anwar,” I rushed to say. “A real one. Tell him that.” A jinni bargain was something that couldn’t be broken. I’d swear to whatever he wanted, if he would let me out of here.
Malik shook his head as he backed out of the room. “Why would Prince Anwar make a deal with you when he’s already won?”
Another failure. King Zaid clicked his tongue.Add it to the list.
I stood in the center of the room, chest heaving. Whatever magic Anwar had used to tamp my fury had vanished long ago and now it rose like a tidal wave. I let out a scream that was part shriek and part roar. If there had been anything in the room, I would’ve broken it, shattered it, sent my fist sailing straight through it.
I kicked the plate of food and watched the olive juice splatter against the wall. But it wasn’t enough.
