“You are a devoted servant of the people,” I replied. “It has been noted. And it is a thing to be admired. I only wish you were in the capital more—others might learn from your success.”

She smiled in a way that made me feel young, and I bristled. “They wouldn’t,” she said. “There is little to learn from a Zidane upstart with no Vathek blood, Your Highness.”

“As much as there is to learn from a half breed, I’m sure,” I said lightly. I felt uncomfortable using Maram’s heritage, but I was building this bridge for her.

She let out a soft laugh. “Indeed. I do apologize for Buchra. She will be better behaved in the future.”

I inclined my head. “As you say. You are free to go.”

She rose to her feet, bowed again, and left. I heard the shuffle of feet and whisper of her skirts as she left and let out a breath. That had gone better than I could have dreamed. I’d made contact and a positive impression. I hoped that I could secure her, both for Maram and for the rebellion.

Our futures depended on it.

12

The day was bright and clear as Idris and I, followed by a cadre of guards and handmaidens, made our way to the south end of the estate, beyond the orchard backing our normal meeting place. Beyond it lay the stables, and a large arena where the estate staff trained and broke horses. Idris was nearly bursting with energy, for the day had come when at last he could put the wedding gift the Mas’udi twins had given him to the test.

The estate staff had been hard at work all morning, setting up awnings around the stable yard, and preparing food for the afternoon events. The horse—the prince of stallions—was barely broken and in need of a firm hand. And though the Mas’udi twins loved and respected their prince, what they believed was clear: Idris wasn’t capable of keeping his seat, much less training him.

A royal awning had been set up closer to the trees, and so Idris escorted me there. He was eager to be away and among the horses, but I gripped his arm for a moment until he turned to look at me. We were in public and here I was Maram, though all I wanted to do was reach up and kiss his cheek. I could feel the handmaidens pointedly not looking at us, but I couldn’t make myself let him go.

There were nights when sleeping in the same room with Idris was impossible, when all I could think of was what it would have been like—what he would have done—if we were married. It was a madness that possessed me, that took hold of my soul, that made it impossible to detach my heart from his.