Page 23 of Bound By Wishes

“Where are you?” I whispered, trying to keep Arwa from hearing me.

“I’m not in the room anymore, if that is your concern,” he answered. It was certainly my concern. “Tell your servant to put that trash back into the wardrobe. I’ve already picked out what you need to wear. It’s behind the dressing screen.”

Curiosity made me rise from the vanity seat and venture to the changing screen. Draped over a settee was a gown fit for a queen. The pink fabric was a delicate silk chiffon, flowing like liquid rose petals, each layer slightly darker than the one above, creating a beautiful ombre effect that deepened to a rich, dusky rose at the hem.

I reached out to touch it but paused, fearing I would ruin a gown so lovely. “I’m not really a pink kind of girl,” I admitted to Ranen.

Ranen’s voice rumbled in my head. “That wouldn’t have been my choice either. It doesn’t bring out the color of your eyes, but Razoul likes his women soft and feminine.”

My eyes? He had noticed the color of my eyes?

“Then we’re in trouble,” I said, pressing my lips into a thin line. “Because I am neither soft nor feminine.”

“That I already know,” Ranen groaned. “You’ll have to put on the performance of your life.”

“Princess?” Arwa called, walking over to the changing screen. Her eyes rounded in wonder as she looked down atthe fairy tale fluff that was before me. “Oh! Have you ever seen anything so fine?” she asked, reaching a hand toward the dress.

“It’s certainly something,” I mused, my face scrunching with disgust.

I startled as the door to my chambers opened and more servants rushed in. In a matter of seconds, I was surrounded by a flurry of activity as they descended upon me with makeup, perfumes, oils, silk, and other finery. I sat there silently enduring their torture as they curled and twisted my hair, oiling it and pinning it into a stunning updo. They meticulously painted my face, transforming my features until I barely recognized myself. My once sun-kissed skin was now pale, glowing like a pearl under the layers of powder they applied to even my skin tone. Every touch, every brushstroke, was a calculated effort to transform me into an image of perfection, one that took a lot of effort when it came to someone like me.

Finally, once they were finished, they ushered me toward the changing screen and helped me slip into the beautiful gown. One servant held me steady while two more ventured to my back and pulled on the stays, tying the corset as tightly as possible. Air whooshed from my lungs as they cinched me up.

“I can’t breathe,” I gasped, but they didn’t seem at all concerned that they were choking the life out of me. Once they were finished, another fell to her knees before me, lifted the skirt of the gown, and helped me put on a matching pair of pink slippers.

The servants escorted me into the hallway, where the other equally painted-up candidates waited. They seemedeager to flaunt themselves in front of the king. As we walked down the hall, I couldn’t help but think that we looked like a flock of peacocks, our colorful attire and elaborate makeup turning us into walking displays of gaudiness.

Music grew louder as we approached a pair of large double doors. I held my breath as the doors were flung open, and we were thrust into a sea of people, all eager to cast their judgment on us. The room was filled with splendor, but the weight of their scrutinizing gazes made it feel more like a gilded cage than a ceremonial feast.

In a flurry of frills and chiffon, all the marriage candidates were herded like sheep into the center of the throne room by the palace guards.

The candidates began to fan out, forming a straight line in front of the throne, and I followed suit. My nerves were getting the better of me, and I hated to admit it, but I almost wished Ranen were perched on my shoulder again, telling me what to do.

Razoul sat on his massive throne, his gaze gliding over each of us. When he reached me, he barely glanced at me before moving on to another. Defeat crept through my veins. Everything I had been through the last few days would be pointless if I wasn’t selected as one of the official marriage candidates. Not to mention the fate of the half-starved Canaari people.

My gaze began to wander around the throne room. The walls were lined with tall, arched windows draped with sheer curtains in deep shades of ebony and silver, allowing the waning sunlight to filter through and mingle with the golden light of the chandeliers.

My stomach began to protest as I noticed the tablesladen with an abundance of food and drink. Golden platters filled with roasted meats, fragrant rice dishes, and an array of colorful fruits and vegetables covered every inch of the long tables. Decanters of what looked like fine wine and jugs of some other beverages were scattered among the food. The air was thick with the mingling scents of exotic perfumes, rich spices, and the heady aroma of the feast.

My gaze ventured back toward Razoul, and anger seeped into my veins. Wasn’t he done treating us like livestock? What more could he possibly want to see?

“You.” He pointed at a girl with silken blonde hair. “And you.” My heart stalled in my chest. Was he pointing at me? “Dance for me,” he demanded.

Oh no.

One of the girls beside me started to tremble, her lip quivering as if she were fighting back tears, as the two who were not chosen were ushered back into the crowd.

“Ranen. Do something,” I whispered, my voice tight with panic as I struggled to maintain composure. “I can’t dance.”

“Don’t worry, little sayyida. I can help you dance, if you’ll allow me,” Ranen replied.

Fear constricted my throat, but as the lively music filled the air, I realized my choices were simple—either step off the floor in defeat or let Ranen guide me. "Help me dance," I whispered, granting him my permission.

“As you wish.” He rumbled in my mind.

My eyes widened as the girl beside me started to sway to the music. Her arms traced arcs through the air, delicate and sweeping, like the petals of a blooming flower. My feet started moving on their own accord. Thesensation was strange, like I didn’t have control of my own body. The music increased in tempo, and my body swayed to the beat. It was exhilarating, but with each twist and turn, the overly tight corset constricted even more, cutting off my circulation and squeezing my lungs without mercy. My head spun, a kaleidoscope of stars dancing before my eyes.

Razoul clapped his hands sharply, and the music abruptly stopped, leaving an echo of silence in its wake. All the girls hurried forward, their movements synchronized as they bowed deeply before the king.

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