If the accused was guilty, the lion would rip him to shreds. If the accused was innocent, he was to marry the lady. Instant punishment, instant reward—what better judgment than that made by the Lord?

The appointed hour arrived.

The people gathered from all across the mountain, great throngs piling into the galleries of the arena, until all the seats were filled, and the overflowing crowds amassed themselves outside the amphitheater walls.

The Badshah sat in his place, the Wali on one side of him and the Shehzadi on the other. In the rows beneath them sat the Badshah’s court: his family and the nobles and the ambassadors, who had extended their stay to witness the final fate of one of their own. They sat directly opposite the two doors, those fateful and those fatal portals, so hideous in their sameness.

All was ready.

The signal was given.

From beneath the royal party, a door opened to reveal the lover of the Shehzadi. Tall, beautiful, strong, his appearance elicited a low hum of admiration and anxiety from the audience.

As the young man advanced into the arena, he turned to bow to the king, as was custom, but he did not think at all of that royal personage. Instead, his eyes were fixed upon the Shehzadi, who sat beside her grandfather.

Had it not been for the barbarism in her nature, perhaps the lady would not have come to witness such a horrid event. But the Shehzadi’s fervid soul would not allow her to be absent on such an occasion.

From the instant the decree had gone forth to seize her lover to trial, she hadn’t spent a second thinking of anything but this event and all the events that had preceded it.

The Shehzadi had done what no other had done—she had possessed herself of the secret of the doors.

And she couldn’t stand her options.

The hot-blooded and semi-barbaric princess: she felt her soul burning beneath the combined fires of despair and jealousy. She had lost him, that much she already knew. But what of his fate?

Durkhanai loved him. Despite everything, the truth deep within her core would not be shaken. She loved him with an intensity that had enough of barbarism in it to make it immense and strong.

Durkhanai seemed to be the only one reacting. Around her, the royal family was calm. Even the ambassadors—who had delayed their departure, who she knew objected to such a barbaric practice as the tribunal—wore calm expressions. They weren’t the least bit shocked.

It was only Durkhanai who was at war with herself.

On the one hand, she could make a plan for Asfandyar to escape and for her to go with him—but in doing so, she would lose her people, her crown, and her family. She would break her grandparents’ hearts, just as her father had.