* * *
Fatiha had hired her.
“It’s been twenty years since humans have disturbed this ecosystem,” Aghraas said. Maram had at last descended from her horse only to find that Aghraas was a head taller than her. “Your stewardess—”
Maram startled, frightened that her secret might have escaped her already. “My stewardess?”
“Fatiha,” Aghraas said patiently.
Of course. Nadine was no longer her only stewardess.
“Your stewardess,” Aghraas continued, “wanted the whole of the estate mapped, including potential hunting and nesting grounds. She was quite insistent that I attempt to calendar breeding cycles, which is a bit harder.”
“Why was I not informed that you were hired?”
“I only started yesterday,” she said and then smiled. “You must not scold Fatiha too harshly. I was eager to start as soon as possible, and I took advantage of her divided attention.”
Maram turned her face away sharply. “Well?”
“Well?” Aghraas repeated.
“The falcons—how are they?”
The falconer smiled at her and Maram felt that rush of lightning again. Her fists clenched in anger.
“Come here at dawn and I’ll show you.”
4
I thought with the wedding over and my part finished I might be given a reprieve. I returned to my chambers in the early hours of the morning free of the weight of Maram’s jewelry and heavy wedding regalia. I bathed and broke my fast, then settled down to work on my tapestry. I had only just picked up my loom when Tala arrived.
“Her Highness has summoned you to her chambers,” she said, holding out a cloak and veil.
I frowned, startled. “What for?” She had done this once before, in the days just after my return to Gibra. Then it had been boredom, but what a new bride could be bored of was beyond me.
“She would not tell me, Amani,” Tala said, and shook the cloak at me. “But she was insistent both that I retrieve you and that I do so with all possible secrecy and haste.”
My eyebrows rose. “Secrecy?”
“Amani,” Tala snapped, and my eyebrows rose higher. She was never short with me. “Please. I did not like how insistent she was, and you know how she is.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, standing. “You’re right. I just—what could she possibly want?”
“I cannot imagine,” Tala replied as she draped the mantle over my shoulders. “You know her better than I do.”
* * *
Maram stood as she had that long-ago day, one hand braced on the stone balustrade of her balcony, the other twisted in the folds of her skirt, robed in finery and gold. She was limned by the golden afternoon light, her body framed by the out-of-season greenery of her garden’s treetops rising into the air behind her. Her body was as still as a statue, her expression stoic and regal as if she’d stepped out of a painting of antiquity. She wore a mask, when she rarely needed to with me. Her rage or her happiness—what I saw was of little consequence, for I could relay it to no one, nor could I use it against her.
I sank to my knees, mind racing. It had seemed to me the last time I’d seen her that she wanted nothing to do with me. But here she was now, without her stewardess, and quick on her heels was an air of secrecy.
“Your Highness,” I greeted her as I came to my feet. “Is anything amiss?”
“Why should anything be the matter?” she said.
I would have agreed except for the hollow ring of her voice.
“Have I displeased you in some way, Your Highness?”
“I do not think of you enough for you to displease me, Amani,” she said, voice cool. “I have summoned you to give you another assignment.”
My eyebrows rose. “Assignment?”
“You are to take my place tonight,” she said, turning away from me.
“Tonight?”
“Are you a parrot?” she snapped. “Yes. The wedding procession into the marriage bed.”
I could not stop the surprised laugh that came out of me. “You can’t be serious.”
“I didn’t think your duty was a laughing matter.”
I stared at her, bewildered. The wedding procession to the marriage bed was the consummation night. It was not a festival or a dinner or any other engagement for which I was prepared to take her place. It was a private family affair—the bride waited for her husband as he was escorted to their new and shared bedchamber. There was no risk of harm—certainly not enough to invoke her shield. And she had come here alone, without Nadine.
Something clicked into place. Nadine did not know.
Regardless, I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.
“No.”
“You are refusing a royal command—”
“I am a shield, not a doll,” I said.
“Amani—” I ignored the way her face had drained of color, the way my name came out of her mouth: small and frightened. I’d rarely felt rage as I did then, but my grief had given way to it, at long last. Had I become so small in Maram’s mind that she might barter my body for her own peace of mind on her wedding night? She didn’t know that I loved him—and even if she had, the marriage was done. The marriage bed belonged to Maram, and I would not enter it.
“Idris is your husband,” I said, forcing my voice to be even. “It is your duty to consummate the marriage.”
“You don’t understand—!”
“Explain it to me then.” I was dangerously close to yelling. “You are asking me to be you on a night you are expected to bed him. Have I fallen so low in your mind that you would prostitute me?”
My rage had at last eclipsed my sense.
Her eyes glimmered in the light of her room and searched my face as if she might find softness or weakness. She would find neither.
She stepped back. Her shoulders sagged as if strings that held her up had been cut, and she sank down onto a bench on the balcony.
My rage did not disappear entirely, but I felt fatigue take its place. I sighed as I sat down beside her.
“Why don’t you want to go to your wedding night?”
She huffed a nervous laugh. “I just … I can’t explain it. All my life I’ve known I would have to lie with a man.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “I can’t do it.”
My eyebrows rose. “Idris is widely regarded as one of the best-looking young men on the planet,” I said. “More importantly for you, he is kind and cares about you. He would never harm you.”
“You don’t understand,” she whispered and shook her head. I watched her hands, twined around one another, white knuckled in their grip. “I can’t. Just … until I talk myself into it.”
Talk herself into it?
“Even if I wanted to,” I told her, “Idris would know the difference between us immediately. You delay the inevitable. You’ve known you would marry him most of your life, Maram.”
“Then don’t sleep with him,” she said. “I don’t even care if you tell him you aren’t me. Just. Take my place in the bed.”
“Wait.” I raised a hand. “Your Highness—”