The Star-Touched Queen (The Star-Touched Queen #1)(31)

Amar.





12

THE GARDEN OF GLASS

I raised my chin and stared back at him. I had no reason to feel embarrassed. After all, he was the one who said Akaran was just as much mine as it was his. The door had been open. And yet, a flush still crept up the back of my neck.

“I was taking a walk,” I said weakly.

“Where’s Gupta?”

“The dining room,” I said before adding defensively, “I only walked a little down the halls.”

His jaw tightened. “I told you that the kingdom’s location makes it dangerous.”

“Gupta told me that anyplace that might hold danger would be locked up,” I retorted. “The door to this room was not locked.”

“Even so,” said Amar. “They might sing through their bindings. It’s better to have an escort.”

“As you can see, I am unscathed from my walk from one hall to the next.”

“Today,” cut in Amar tightly. “Today you are unscathed. Tomorrow is unknown. As is the next day and the day after that. Never make light of your life.”

“I never do.”

The vial of mandrake poison flashed in my mind. Life led me here. Life and the desire to live it.

Gupta burst into the room.

“Oh, good!” he breathed, hands pushing against his knees. He looked like he’d just run from one side of a country to the next. Guilt heated my face. He turned to Amar. “I apologize. I lost track with the riddles.”

“You can leave, my friend,” said Amar. “She is safe with me.”

Gupta looked between us, started to say something and thought better of it. There was a touch of pity in his expression as he looked at the winking lights around us. With one last glance at the garden, Gupta left.

Amar loosed a breath. “I understand, you know.”

I looked up.

“The forced silence … the voices of this palace.”

We stood there, not saying anything. I felt too aware of the space between us. Even with Akaran’s secrets spiraling in the shadows of my head, I couldn’t ignore the weightless feeling that had gripped me. Standing beside Amar did something to me. Like my center had shifted to make room for him.

“You do not trust me, do you?”

“No,” I said. I had no reason to lie. “I told you in the Night Bazaar that trust is won in actions and time. Not words.”

“I wish you trusted me.”

“I don’t place my faith in wishes,” I said. “How can I? I can’t even—”

I bit back the rest of my words. I can’t even see your face. Perhaps Gupta was lying and he really did have a disfiguring scar. Amar moved closer until we were only a hand space apart.

“What?” he coaxed, his voice hovering between a growl and a question.

“I can’t even see your face.”

A strange chill still curled off of him like smoke and even though the glass garden was teeming with little lights, shades veiled him.

“Is that what you want?” he said. “Would it make you trust me?”

“It would be a start.”

“You are impossible to please.”

I said nothing. Amar leaned forward, and I felt the silken trails of his hood brush across my neck. My breath constricted. “Is that what you want? An unguarded gaze can spill a thousand secrets.”

“I would know them anyway,” I said evenly.

I waited for him to dissuade me, but when he remained silent, I reached out. Amar stood still, lean muscles tensed beneath his clothes. I could hear his breathing, see his chest rising and falling, smell that particular scent of mint and smoke that hung around him. Slowly, I untied the ends of the dove-gray hood. Small pearls snagged against the silk of his covering.

Suddenly, his hands reached around my wrist.

“I trust you,” he said.

The hood fell to the ground, a mere rustle of silk against glass. I lifted my gaze, searching Amar’s face. He was young, and yet there was something worn about his features.

I took in the stern line of his nose and the smooth expanse of tawny skin. His features possessed a lethal kind of elegance, like a predator at rest—bronzed jaw tapering to a knife’s point, lips curled in the faintest of grins and heavy brows casting dusky shadows over his eyes.

When I looked at him, something stirred inside me. It felt like recognition sifted through dreams; like the moment before waking—when sleep blurred the true world, when beasts with sharp teeth and beautiful, winged things flew along the edges of your mind.

Amar met my gaze and his eyes were raw. Burning.

“Well?” he asked. There was no rebuke in his voice, only curiosity.

“I see no secrets in your gaze,” I said. I see only night and smoke, dreams and glass, embers and wings. And I would not have you any other way.

“You have made your request, what about mine?”

“I am not the one withholding secrets.”

He smiled and I stared at him for a moment. When he smiled, his severe face softened into something beautiful. I wanted to see it again.

“On the contrary, I am the one who has no choice. You, on the other hand, do.”

“What do you want from me?”

He reached out, fingers sliding across the length of my hair.