Page 78 of Bound By Wishes

I paused, glancing back with a wry smile. “Kings do not date,” I said, dismissing her mirth. “Malik is welcome to join us. After all, it seems only fitting that your friend shares in this unexpected turn of events.”

I left the room without another word, only to find Mozenwrath lurking in the shadows just beyond the door. His eyes flashed with caution as he stepped forward.

“She has awakened,” he said, a faint smile of satisfaction on his lips. “What good news. But I must warn you, Your Majesty, you cannot be left alone with her again, not until your wedding night.”

“Don’t quote the law to me, Mozenwrath,” I warned, frustration evident in my tone. “It was burned in my brain since infancy.”

Floods of my childhood memories came pouring back in. I remembered my mother’s imposing presence, her sharp gaze never missing a single infraction, no matter how small. I was made to memorize every decree and tradition, and failure to adhere to them was met with swift and often painful correction.

"Forgive me," Mozenwrath beseeched, pulling me frommy less-than-pleasant walk down memory lane. “I have contacted the council and have put the marriage preparations in motion as you requested.” He followed me down the hallway to my new chambers. “How does six months from today sound for the ceremony?”

“We will marry in a fortnight,” I said as the guards opened the doors leading to my chambers.

I had allowed Caleena to keep my old rooms and had taken over the ones that used to belong to my father. As a child, I had always loathed entering his chambers after his death. Everything about them reminded me of him. I swore the smell of cedar and old leather still lingered in the air, even after all these centuries. I had sealed the room and forbidden anyone from entering—until now.

“A fortnight?” Mozenwrath gasped, stopping behind me. I continued walking, my pace unwavering until I reached my room. Mozenwrath scurried in after me, concern etched across his face.

“Arrange everything just as I said and ensure that all preparations are in place. I will not wait any longer.” There was an edge to my voice that dared Mozenwrath to argue.

“Yes, your Majesty,” he said with a shocked expression before he hurried out of the room.

Alone with my thoughts, I wandered toward the balcony doors, framed by rich midnight drapes, their fabric so dense that it absorbed light rather than letting it in. I drew the curtains aside and stepped outside to be met by a starlit sky stretching endlessly above the palace grounds. The cool night air brushed against my face but did little to ease the tension coiling between my shoulder blades.

Inhaling deeply, I took in the fresh night air to steady mynerves before returning inside. The room was dark and elegant, its walls painted black with swirling silver patterns that caught the flickering light of a few candles. I leaned against the cool black marble of the grand fireplace, its firelight casting a warm glow over the thick dark rug that covered the floor. The silver threads woven in the rug caught the light like diamonds.

My gaze wandered over the room, taking in the black furniture with silver accents. Each piece was meticulously chosen by my father to maintain a delicate balance between darkness and light. He had always said that true power lay in balancing the two. How disappointed he would’ve been to discover that my darkness reigned supreme, overshadowing any hint of light.

Panic gripped me like an icy hand, tightening around my chest and making it hard to breathe. My thoughts spiraled out of control, bouncing wildly from one fear to another, while my heart raced as if trying to outrun the terror flooding my senses. Had I truly just agreed to marry a man I barely knew and to become a queen to the people of Jalam? What had possessed me to make such a life-altering decision in such haste? It probably had something to do with the dangerously gorgeous king, offering me everything I’d ever wanted on a silver platter.

Arwa carefully wrapped my hair around a hot rod she had heated in the flames, creating soft, bouncy curls. Each strand hissed as it met the metal, and the scent of singed hair mixed with the fragrant oils she had applied filled the room. While she focused on transforming me into a vision of beauty, I struggled to keep my composure. The clash of fearand doubt waged within me, barely hidden beneath her handiwork.

Arwa gently helped me to my feet, my legs trembling beneath me, still unsteady after more than a week of unconsciousness. My senses felt muted, as if I were wandering through a dream I had yet to awaken from. She guided me behind the changing screen, helping me slip a dress over my head.

As the dress glided down my legs like a waterfall of emerald-green silk, I realized that this was now my life. The daring slit in the skirt revealed a hint of leg with each step, adding to the strange new reality I was stepping into. Was I any better off in this new life that I chose than I was before? Wasn’t I still being used as a tool in a man’s handy bag?

The bodice that hugged and accentuated my curves seemed to amplify that thought. Arwa busied herself with the final touches of my look, adding delicate jewelry and slippers that matched the golden threads in the gown.

I glanced in the mirror, unsure of the person staring back. She was regal, her bearing stronger than I’d ever thought possible. A quiet smile tugged at my lips. This was me, in all my splendor and vulnerability, woven together into someone I scarcely recognized. I wasn’t the same girl who had been overlooked for jobs and shoved into an office that used to be a closet. That version of me was gone. I was strong now, and with that strength came fierce pride.

But strength alone wasn’t enough. I refused to be just a symbol to the people. I would lead with purpose, improve their lives, and protect them from the djinns who had ruled this kingdom. They deserved more, and so did I.

A knock echoed through the room, and Arwa hurried to answer the door.

A servant stood there, bowing deeply. “The king wishes to see his bride,” he announced in a formal tone.

His bride—those words were like vinegar on my tongue, sour and unsettling. Making me second-guess that newfound strength I proclaimed to have. Worry crowded in. I knew nothing of ruling or proper etiquette, having spent most of my life playing in dirt, as Ranen had so adequately described it.

Ranen entered the room with an effortless grace, as if he were floating on air, his presence commanding instant respect from everyone. He was something straight out of a woman’s wildest fantasies, clad in sleek black pants and a matching sash that cinched his waist. His silken white shirt was adorned with a dizzying array of patterns that seemed to dance with his every movement. The shirt hung open, revealing glimpses of his powerful, sculpted muscles beneath. As I stood there, overwhelmed by his striking presence, I struggled to remember what I was just worrying about.

He stopped a few feet away from me. “You look better,” he mused.

“I suppose I do, compared to the zombie I was before,” I replied, hoping to ease the tension of the servants watching our every move. Something in Ranen’s demeanor had shifted. His eyes were hardened, as if he had no interest in the lightheartedness we once shared.

Mozenwrath entered the room seconds later, followed closely by the physician. The number of people in my bedroom added to the stress I was feeling.

“Shall we?” Ranen extended his arm as if the gathering audience had no effect on him at all.

I stepped forward, reaching for his arm, but the room tilted, a dizzying shift that made me stumble. I would have ended up sprawled across the floor if Ranen hadn't stepped forward, swiftly looping a strong arm around my waist and drawing me against his chest. The crowd in the room seemed to disappear as my hands braced against his firm torso, and his scent enveloped me.

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