In the winding streets of the Persian Empire, a poor girl is chosen to become the third prince's concubine.
Aliya Farhad has no interest in the lofty ideas of the palace, the staff, or her lover. Prince Cairo has all the interest in his blue-eyed A...
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IFELT EYES PRICKING INTO THE back of my neck as I walked.
I couldn't see them, but I knew they were there; the eyes of girls peeking through keyholes and doors, or of the kitchen staff who hurried past me as if they didn't peek out from behind their trays of crokery, eyes wide and frantic and glaring holes into my back.
It would seem that word of my date with Prince Cairo had spread, and no one was too happy, nor were they too optimistic.
And, to be honest, neither was I.
If someone were to time my steps, they'd notice that they were much too short, much too slow — a tired, last hand effort towards procrastination. My hands were slick with sweat and so was my neck, and underneath all the kohl around my eyes, my eyelashes were already starting to blink away frantic, anxious tears.
It's funny how I keep talking big, and now that the risk of execution was actually hanging over my head, all of a sudden, my legs feel all weak.
But what was better, whatshould you face with more courage, I reasoned, selling your life to the devil, or selling your soul?
At this point, who knows.
I arrived at the dining hall doors far too quick for my liking, but by the quirk of the guard's eyebrow, he might have thought the opposite.
When I smiled and tried to nod at him, he didn't smile back.
"The Shahzadehawaits you inside," he said, his voice smooth like iron. "If he needs me, I'll be waiting right outside."
"Such a dutiful guard," I said back, smiling a pointy little grin. "I'm sure you're of extreme help to him."
The guard's eyes narrowed. "I would be more careful with that pretty little mouth of yours... Else it won't be so pretty anymore."
Before I could reply back, he pulled his gaze away and yanked open the door.
Immediately, I noticed the air inside the room. It was a soft, hazy kind of feeling, the sort of atmosphere that made you fall asleep, and a quick glance around the room confirmed the fact that the smell in the air was, in fact, the jasmine coming from the tall, scented candles placed in golden candelabras around the table.
Before I had the chance to look around some more, I heard someone shift.
"Ah, you're finally here. Come sit, Aliya." Through the haze and mist and the sleepiness starting to assault my eyes, I recognized Prince Cairo's voice.
"Hello," I said, and inwardly, I winced at how weak I sounded.
"Hello to you too," he mused, and I winced again; this time, one stemming from the amusement in his voice. "Come near me, Aliya. Sit."
