“You were an illicit thrill, a reckless little phase, but nothing more,” she said, voice entirely indifferent. “You can’t imagine it has been more, can you? Oh, then you are as much a fool as anyone else. And here I had higher hopes for you.”

“You’re being cruel,” he told her, clenching his jaw. He stood, drawing near. “Don’t lie, not to me, not to yourself.”

He saw right through her.

“I am cruel,” she snapped. “I am cruel and wretched and awful. Haven’t you realized it by now?”

She pushed him back, but he stayed in place, an immovable wall.

“How else would you describe a princess willing to leave her people and her crown for her own selfish reasons?” Durkhanai’s voice cut off in a sob.

She wanted to run with him. She wanted to stay.

She couldn’t do both.

“I am cruel,” she whispered, turning away from him. The wind whipped through her hair. Asfandyar slipped into the space behind her, his arms wrapping around her torso. He kissed her neck so softly she thought she would melt.

“You aren’t,” he whispered back. “You are kind and quick and clever and genuine. You are the night sky full of infinite stars. You are wonder and beauty, and I am in eternal awe of you.”

Oh, why did he have to say such things?

She felt him pause against her skin, waiting for a response. She wanted to tell him the same, that he was kind and honorable and noble, that to her, he was as glorious as the mountains she called home and thrice as comforting.

But she couldn’t.

He needed to leave, or she would never let him go.

The words choked her, waiting to be released, but she couldn’t.

He needed to leave.

Before she did something unholy.

Before she did something horrible.

“Leave,” she said, voice calm. “Or I will call my guards and inform them you’ve made an attempt on my life, in my court. You will be executed come morning.”

“You wouldn’t,” he said, voice clouded with disbelief.

“I would,” she said, walking toward her doors.

He reached for her hand, but she pulled it away and instead reached for her door.

“Don’t do this,” he pleaded, but he began to back away, toward the wardrobe and the passageways.

“Goodbye, Asfandyar,” she said. The tears fell.

She pulled open her doors.

Before the guards could look, Asfandyar was gone.

Chapter Thirty

Durkhanai woke in a cold sweat as the adhan for fajr rang through the air.

Asfandyar was leaving soon. She had been too cruel. He hadn’t deserved it. He was leaving. She would never see him again.

She would never see him again.

Durkhanai couldn’t stand to let him go in such a manner. Breathless, she took out a pen and paper and began to write. There wasn’t enough time.