The Forbidden Wish(60)

The court convenes in the throne room, where Caspida stands before her father’s great seat, facing the crowd. Four guards are positioned at each corner of the dais, and a row of scribes sit behind her, poised to record everything that happens on long scrolls of creamy parchment, their sleeves rolled back and ink pots at their elbows.

Sulifer and Darian stand at the foot of the throne, wearing identical expressions of solemnity. Opposite them stand Raz and Nessa, deceptively demure in their funereal black, but their eyes miss nothing.

The crowd whispers and rustles, looking drab and almost indistinguishable from the gray-clad servants who line the walls. High above, through the openings of the domes, the storm clouds roll and rumble, making the hall echo with thunder. Large clay urns have been set directly beneath the holes in the roof, in case rain should begin to fall.

Once everyone has gathered in the hall and the great teak doors are shut with a series of heavy booms, Caspida stands. Everyone falls quiet, and faces turned toward her display a range of expectations: curiosity, hope, pity, and hunger.

In a loud, clear voice that rings across the hall she cries, “My father, Malek son of Anoushan son of Arhab son of Oshur, King of Kings, King of Parthenia, Chosen by Imohel, King of the Amulens, is dead.”

“The king is dead,” murmurs the crowd in response.

“I am Caspida, daughter of Malek and Parisandra, Princess of Parthenia, Chosen by Imohel, Princess of the Amulens. By the right of my birth, I claim this throne.”

“The king is dead,” the crowd says again. “Long live the queen.”

Beside me, Khavar and Ensi’s faces shine, their eyes flooding with pride as Caspida sits on the throne, her chin high and eyes bright. Already she fills the massive seat better than her ill father did.

The proceedings are making me edgy, and I find it hard to focus on my surroundings. I wait, tense and impatient for Nardukha to uphold his end of the deal. I watch the openings in the domes above, as if the Lord of the Jinn himself might come swooping down.

A crier takes position behind the throne. “Look on your queen, Amulens, the one on whom Imohel’s favor rests, the daughter of kings. Caspida the First, who has been found worthy.”

“Worthy is she, and favored,” replies the crowd.

Silence falls as Caspida raises a hand.

“Before my father’s death, he made a final decree,” she states.

Ensi leans to Aladdin and whispers, “This is our cue.”

Slowly, she and Khavar take up position in front of and behind Aladdin and begin escorting him toward the throne. There is some distance to cover, and the nobles throw angry looks as we press through the crowd. But in the vastness of the hall, our movement is barely noticed.

Caspida continues, “To ensure the future of the kingdom, King Malek wished that I, heir apparent, be joined in marriage before taking the crown.”

The crowd murmurs appreciatively. Sulifer’s hand closes on Darian’s shoulder, and Darian’s face glows. He looks up at his father, his eyes shining, and Sulifer gives him a small smile.

“Go, go,” urges Ensi under her breath, prodding Aladdin.

“In keeping with my father’s will,” says Caspida, “I shall take a husband tomorrow at dawn.”

My attention snaps to the queen, the faces around me sharpening into focus.

All eyes turn to Darian, most of them smiling. He can’t hold back a grin any longer, and he tugs his coat straight, preparing to ascend the dais.

“And so, I am pleased to announce my betrothal to the man who will rule at my side and usher Parthenia and its people into a new era.”

Darian clasps hands with his father, then turns and sets a foot on the first stair, looking up at Caspida with passion burning in his eyes.

Without looking at him, Caspida swings a hand wide and announces, “Prince Rahzad rai Asnam of Istarya!”

The crowd gasps as one.

Darian falters, confusion twisting his features, while Sulifer’s chest swells and his eyes darken. Heads swivel our way as Aladdin reaches the dais and climbs the stairs. Caspida holds a hand out to him in welcome, while mere paces away, Darian turns scarlet.

“No!” he bursts out. Everyone holds their breaths as he moves to intercept Aladdin. “This is a lie! I am the one who will marry the queen! Our betrothal was sealed years ago!” He turns to his father. “Father, tell them!”

Sulifer is surrounded by officials, whispering and gesturing angrily. Caspida steps in before her uncle can say anything.

“Step down, Darian.” Her voice is rigid and commanding. “My father’s decree was that I should marry. He did not state that I should marry you.”

Darian stammers and looks from her to Sulifer. The vizier finally makes a move, climbing the dais and looming over Caspida. Aladdin starts forward, but Caspida holds up a hand, and he pauses.

“Princess,” says Sulifer in a low voice, “this is childish and irresponsible. You cannot break troth, not even as a queen—which, let me remind you, you are not yet.”

“I cannot break a promise I did not make myself,” Caspida replies calmly. “And no promises will be made on my behalf. From now on, no voice will command my future but my own. Step aside, Uncle. I will keep my father’s decree, but on my terms and not yours.” She draws herself up, unflinching. “Leave our presence.”

Sulifer stares at her with a blank expression, but his eyes are dark with anger. He turns to Darian. “Come.”