Sajda bared her teeth and stalked toward him. He dug his elbows into the floor and tried to scoot away from her. He didn’t get far before Javan planted a boot on his stomach and held him still.
“You’re going to give me the truth,” Sajda said in a loud, clear voice. “You’re going to give all of us the truth.” She turned to face the crowd who were huddled in groups, their terror-stricken eyes glued to her. “Would you like to hear a story?”
A few aristocrats had forced their way past the contingent of guards at the mouth of the arena and were trying to reach the door. Sajda raised her voice, “Anyone who leaves this room without Prince Javan’s permission will deal with me.”
The fleeing aristocrats froze, and Sajda swept the crowd with her gaze. No one moved.
“Once upon a time,” she said, “there was a prince born of a good king and queen. He was taught to be faithful to Yl’ Haliq, to his parents, and to his people. His mother died when he was young, and she made him promise to excel in school, to become the best at everything so that he could become the best ruler for his kingdom. For Akram.”
She glanced at Javan, and found warmth in his eyes as he watched her. Giving him a tiny smile, she turned back to the crowd.
“This prince was taken to the academy in Loch Talam for his education. He spent ten long years there, never returning home because he was committed to studying longer and working harder than anyone else so that he could honor his mother’s dying wish and meet his father’s expectations. So that he could return to Akram ready to rule you with justice and fairness when it came time for him to sit on the throne.”
She turned her gaze on the traitor prince, and he shivered beneath the fury in her glare. “But there was another boy. A boy who didn’t belong in the palace, though he wished he did. And he conspired against the prince. He knew the prince’s father hadn’t seen his son in ten years. He knew he looked enough like a Kadar to pass for Prince Javan if he could keep his facts straight. He sent a dragon and a team of assassins to kill the prince so he could take his place. But the prince didn’t die because, as you’ve all seen during this tournament, he is very skilled at surviving.”
A murmur swept the crowd.
“When the impostor realized the prince hadn’t died in Loch Talam, he ordered him to be executed. An old guard recognized the true prince and put him in Maqbara instead. And here he’s been, all this time. Competing and winning so that he could gain an audience with the king. With his father. So that he could claim his rightful place as your prince and help restore order and justice to Akram. And so when the impostor realized that Javan had won, and that all was about to be revealed, he killed the king so that he could order Prince Javan’s death and steal the throne once and for all.”
She crouched beside the false prince, magic stinging her palms. “Didn’t you?”
She dared the boy to lie. To give her a single excuse to swallow the sunlight and turn him into ash.
He gave her a defiant look. “You can’t prove any of that.”
He was right. Turning him to ash wouldn’t prove his words. It wouldn’t give Javan back what was rightfully his.
But swallowing the sunlight wasn’t the worst that she could do. She reached out and scraped a nail down the side of his arm. Blood welled, and she let it drip into her palm. Her magic sizzled against it, and she could already see his fears, laid out before her like a succulent meal of terror and darkness.
“Do you know what I am?” she asked quietly.
He stared at his blood in her palm and then slowly raised his eyes to hers.
“I’m a dark elf.” For once the words didn’t sink into her with the heavy weight of shame and fear. “I can take your blood and read your fears.” She leaned closer. “I can give you unspeakable nightmares. Nightmares that never end. Your mind will shatter. You will break. And yet your heart will keep beating. Your lungs will keep breathing. You’ll be trapped in an unending loop of your worst fears until you grow old and die.”
He trembled and looked beyond her toward Javan. “Please,” he whispered.
Sajda grabbed his chin with her free hand and wrenched his face toward hers. Her voice was loud and clear, echoing across the silent arena. “You don’t speak to him. You don’t even look at him, do you understand me? You took his father and his freedom, and now you are dealing with me. And you have three seconds to admit what you did before I give you exactly what you deserve. Did you impersonate Prince Javan and kill the king?”
Slowly, he nodded.
The crowd gasped.
Sajda wiped his blood on his tunic and stood to face Javan. “People of Akram, I give you the real Prince Javan.”
Javan held her gaze for a long moment and then turned to the crowd, his brown eyes glowing with steady calm. “There is much to do in the coming days. I will call an emergency meeting of the heads of every aristocratic family in Akram so that we can get to the bottom of who was involved in this deception and begin to put things right. And of course, we will move through the proper, lawful channels for my coronation. But not before we hold a royal funeral for the king.”
He drew in a shaky breath and glanced once at his father’s body, lying peaceful and still several lengths away. “As acting king, I declare that Sajda is under the crown’s protection. Any harm that comes to her will be considered an act of treason and will be punished accordingly.”
Warmth that had nothing to do with the sunlight flooded her, and her lips quirked in a tiny smile as he continued.
“I further declare that this boy is a traitor to the crown and will be held in Maqbara until his trial. The magistrate will appoint a temporary warden until a permanent replacement can be found. I will remove the stain of dishonor on Akram’s crown and make our fair kingdom a place of justice and peace for all people.” He glanced above the platforms to the cells that lined the stone honeycomb above them. “For all people.”
The applause began in scattered fits and starts, but then the crowd came to its feet and clapped, cheering for this unexpected ending. For the prince they’d never known was missing.
Javan pulled Sajda into his arms, and she was surprised to realize that he was trembling.
“Thank you,” he said softly. “You scared me half to death.”
“You scared me more.”
“I can’t believe you revealed yourself to them. You sacrificed yourself for me.” His hands tightened, fisting in the back of her shirt.
“You sacrificed yourself for me first.”
He pulled back to give her a look, and she raised a brow.
He smiled. “This isn’t a competition.”
“Of course not.” She grinned, and then he was kissing her, and it was warmer than the sun’s fire and purer than the starlight.
It was air in her lungs and fire in her heart.
It was magic.
FORTY-FIVE