It was easy to tell himself he hated her when he couldn’t stop taking in everything she did. He hated the easy way she carried herself through a crowd, never needing to crouch or take up less space than she was meant to. He hated the way her full lips curled slightly upward whenever she spoke, as if there was something she knew that you never would.

“Solstasia afeshiya,” Karina began, her voice booming clear as the brightest bell. “We have gathered here today in gratitude for the Sun Era now almost past. Over the last fifty years, Gyata, She Born of the Sun, has watched over us with her brilliant light, and in that time Ziran has . . . Ziran has . . .”

Karina sighed. “Truth be told, I had a speech prepared about the resilience of our city and our people. But before I can discuss that, there is something I must say.”

After a pause that felt like an eternity, Karina straightened her back and held her head high.

“My mother, Sarahel Alahari, has died.”

A collective gasp went up through the temple, and Malik’s thoughts flew to Idir. Did the Faceless King have something to do with this? What kind of evil creature orchestrated the death of his own descendant?

What kind of evil creature was Malik to help him?

“Our stories will remember her as a brilliant strategist, a compassionate leader, and a fierce advocate for justice at every level. But I . . .” Karina placed her hand against her heart. “I will remember her as the mother I never truly knew until it was far too late.”

The day of the wakama tournament, Malik had wondered which of the many sides of Karina had been the real one. Now it was clear all of them had been just facets of this person baring her soul to them now.

A queen in both bearing and title.

“Instead of a speech, I’d like a moment of silence dedicated to my mother’s memory.”

Malik considered putting his plan into action then, but he held back and lowered his head in time with everyone else. He was only going to get one chance to ambush Karina today; he had to make it count.

Luckily, Malik did not have to wait long for the perfect chance, for it came not long after in the form of one of Karina’s migraines.

After the morning prayer finished, the congregation moved into the atrium for reflections on the Sun Era. It was then that Malik noticed Karina wincing and placing a hand to her temples. Tunde was by her side in seconds.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and it was clear from his friend’s voice how much he loved this girl.

She waved him off. “It’s just a migraine.”

At this, Malik extracted himself from a separate conversation and headed in the opposite direction. He ducked behind a pillar and wove an illusion of invisibility over himself as his pulse quickened. He glanced over at Karina, whose smile was pained. Good—she was distracted.

“They say the elder princess of Ziran was beautiful, with silver hair that hung in braids past her waist,” Malik said under his breath. This was the tricky part; he had never made an illusion of a person he’d never seen before. In his head, he imagined an older Karina, lean and sharp in all the ways Karina was thick and soft.

You speak so only one pair of ears may hear you, his heart wove into the magic. You move so only one pair of eyes may see you.

Karina froze midconversation, her eyes trained on the far end of the courtyard, where a glimpse of silver hair only she could see had caught her attention.

“What’s wrong?” Tunde asked again, more alarmed this time.

“It’s nothing. I . . . I’ll be back in a second.”

Malik’s instincts had been right; in her already pained state, the glimpse of her elder sister had rattled the princess.

Karina walked briskly out of the courtyard, and Malik followed silently behind her. He made sure to keep the illusion’s back to Karina, for surely she would know from the face it was not real. Karina moved fast, but Malik moved faster, and the illusion of Princess Hanane always remained just too far for Karina to catch, but still close enough to spur her onward.

“I must be losing my mind,” she muttered to herself, and she turned to go back to the reception. But then Malik flashed the illusion again, this time turning into a stairwell, and Karina ran after it.

Malik had decided the roof would be the safest place to lead her to; even if she called for help, it would take time for anyone to reach them. Just as Karina hit the top of the stairwell, he dropped the illusion. The princess entered the roof to find nothing but the outline of Ziran spread before her. As she looked around in confusion, Malik counted to ten before removing his invisibility and stepping out of the shadow of the stairs.

“Is something the matter, Your Highness?” Malik asked, startling Karina. It took all his self-control not to summon the spirit blade right then.

“No, I just thought I saw . . . nothing. I didn’t see anything.”

The silence stretched on, broken only by the drumming of Malik’s heart. There was so much he wanted to say, but he knew Karina well enough now to know if he chased after her, she would only run. Just like the moon in her riddle, the only way he could catch her was by waiting.

“Why are you here, Adil?” she asked, her voice soft and small. Malik held back a snort. If he didn’t know better, he could almost believe her concern was genuine.

“I came to say goodbye.” The Mark twitched and jerked around his arm, aching to fulfill its true purpose.

“There’s no need for that. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other around court in the future,” she said, but Malik shook his head.

“I’m not staying in Ziran past the end of Solstasia, Your Highness.”

Malik understood now why all his past attempts at lying had failed so miserably; he’d been so caught up in the moral guilt of the act that he hadn’t understood the craft of it. But the best lies were the same as the best stories—both molded themselves around a kernel of truth.

Karina drew a sharp breath. “Will you go back to Talafri?”

“Perhaps. But I can’t stay here. Not after the Final Challenge.”

For her part, Karina looked ashamed at the mention of Malik’s unjust loss. She took a step closer, and Malik stayed where he was, unwilling to give her the satisfaction of making him move toward her.

He continued, “I can’t stay here and watch you together with Tunde. I just can’t.”

Karina took another step closer. Bahia’s Comet shined in a halo behind her head, illuminating the contours of her dark brown skin. The Mark had swirled into place in Malik’s clenched fist, and he fought to keep his expression even.

“There are reasons why someone else had to win,” she said, “but if I could have chosen differently, then . . . I would have chosen you.”

He wished she hadn’t said that. He wished his traitorous heart weren’t overjoyed that she had. They were inches apart now, closer than they had been even in the necropolis, but all Malik could see was Nadia waiting for him to come save her.

“You know,” he whispered, “now would be a great time for you to kiss me.”

With a small sigh, Karina did.

It was good that Malik had not allowed himself to imagine what kissing Karina might be like, because none of his fantasies could have gotten within an inch of the truth. She kissed him as if that was what she had been born to do, and the only parts of his body Malik could feel were where they melted into hers. He knew better than to put his hands in her hair, so he laid them instead at her waist, pulling her as close to him as he could manage. It had been calm when they had stepped onto the roof, but now a sudden gale blew through, entangling them further.

For a blissful moment, Malik allowed himself to simply enjoy the kiss. It was his first one, yet already he wanted more, more than just an implicit understanding that this feeling between them had been building from the day they’d met and that it could never go any further than this.

He’d wanted this. He’d craved this. And he’d hate himself forever for wanting the one girl standing between him and Nadia’s freedom.

Finally, they pulled apart, and Karina’s eyes were dark with desire as she looked up at him. Malik’s thoughts were a jumbled whirl, but the only clarity through them all was a burning anger that he’d felt since long before Idir had stolen Nadia. It was the anger of a people scorned and brutalized for hundreds of years, the anger of Malik’s father and all his ancestors crystallized into one clear purpose.

“Adil—” Karina began.

“My name’s not Adil.”

Karina furrowed her brows, and a question began to fall from the lips Malik was already desperate to kiss once more. But before she could finish, Malik summoned his dagger and pierced it into her heart.

30

Karina

Karina stared at the dagger in her chest as if it protruded from a body not her own. Adil stared too, with those beyond-black eyes—eyes she never should have trusted—wide as her own.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.