Forty-One

 

It took time to calm Philemon down and persuade him that the capital was probably the best place to start looking for the thief, though Anahita suspected that the jewels and precious metals had most likely been melted down and made into smaller, more portable things by now.

Nevertheless, he agreed, and within two days, they'd reached the capital. A city that changed little, usually.

"That went up quickly. I didn't know Father intended to build a new palace, and we haven't been gone that long. Do you remember hearing anything about this...edifice?" Anahita asked, peering through the gleaming gates of the brand new palace.

Haidar shrugged. "Nothing at all. Palaces take years to build, not weeks. I smell magic at work."

Magic that could erect a palace in a matter of weeks was potent stuff indeed. Whoever had built this place was more powerful than anyone Anahita had ever met.

Haidar exchanged a few words with the guard, then returned to Anahita's side, his frown deeper than ever. "He said this palace belongs to the Prince of Tasnim and his wife, Princess Maram."

Anahita's mouth dropped open beneath her veil. "Maram will never marry, and the Prince of Tasnim is..." She waved at Philemon.

"Not about to tolerate imposters," Philemon said softly, marching toward the gate with murder in his eyes.

"No, wait," Anahita said. "If Maram has truly married the man, she would never refuse to see me. Or the men with me, for she knows I am never without Haidar and Asad." She turned to Haidar. "Tell him who I am, and that I wish to seek consolation for my bereavement with my sister."

Haidar bowed low, hiding his grin. "As Your Highness wishes."

While they waited for a guard to find out if Maram was willing to see her sister, Anahita lowered her voice to share her plan. "Haidar, Asad, return to the palace, and see that my things are taken where they belong. Have the servants prepare an evening meal for me, for I will be home then. Philemon can accompany me as my guard – " she laid a hand on his arm, shooting him a meaningful glance " – until we know more. When the time is right, then reveal yourself, and lay the imposter bare."

Philemon inclined his head. "Spoken like a true assassin."

Anahita hushed him, scanning the people around to see if anyone had heard. Thankfully, no one appeared to have been listening.

The gates swung open and both guards bowed. "Princess Maram welcomes Princess Anahita to her home."

Anahita recognised the maid who met them at the door. "Yasmeen? So Maram really is here?"

Yasmeen bowed. "Yes, Princess. This palace was a gift to Her Highness from her new husband. He even built her a bathhouse so that she might not need to cross the city to use the one by the gates. She still does, of course, but not every day now." She giggled. "Her Highness does not like to leave her husband."

"So Maram is...happy to be married?" Anahita ventured.

"I have never seen Her Highness happier." Yasmeen's tone was rich with satisfaction. She definitely approved of Maram's marriage.

"And what of her husband?"

"The Master is most kind."

Master. An interesting title, for a man who styled himself as a prince. Whoever he was, he was wealthier than her own father, for this palace was grander inside than out. Quite a feat. His wealth must have been what swayed the Sultan to let Maram marry. But it would not have won over Maram.

And, unlike most other women in the harem, Maram would not have confided her secrets to her maid.

So Anahita followed Yasmeen in silence, admiring the mosaics that rose from the floor to cover the walls and the ceiling. Whoever he was, he had an eye for detail and beauty, to command such work for Maram. Perhaps he truly loved her.

What man wouldn't?

Philemon's footsteps echoed angrily behind her, more stomps than steps. A quick glance back told her he had noticed the wealth they walked within, and it only inflamed his temper further. A man who could build such a place had no need to pretend to be a prince. He could have bought himself a small kingdom somewhere with the price he'd have paid for this palace alone.

Then why...?

Maram rose to greet them, her hair flowing like a dark river over her shoulders and her cerise silk gown. "What are you still wearing your veil for?" Maram chided, reaching for Anahita's face.

"Your husband...I thought..." Anahita stammered.

Maram clucked her tongue. "No need to worry about him. You are among family here."

A hand seized Maram's wrist before she could touch Anahita. "No one touches Princess Anahita without the princess's permission," Philemon rumbled warningly.

Maram's eyes flared blue as the turned her gaze on Philemon. "But to touch Princess Maram is to lose your heart and mind in love for her, for you are not one of her usual men. Are you?" She lifted her captured wrist and spun in his grasp, a graceful dancer's twirl that highlighted her perfect figure as the silk swirled around her.

"Is he why you won't uncover your face, Ana? For he's no eunuch – see?" Maram pointed.

Philemon released Maram and seized Anahita instead, pulling her body against his to shield her from...Maram? Now Anahita couldn't help but notice his arousal, for it grew harder still with the close contact.

"Stand back, witch! Your foul spell will not work on me. I love only one woman, and no witch will tear her from me!" Philemon ripped his sword from its scabbard and pointed it at Maram. "Back, I said!"

After the enchantress who'd cursed him, he could see no good in any magic wielder. He would cut her down, he feared her magic that much.

No. This couldn't happen. Not Maram.

Her blades were in her hands before Anahita had time to think. One at Philemon's throat, while a second aimed for a lower target.

"Drop your sword, or you'll lose the other one," Anahita said. Tears welled up, but she stood firm. No matter how much she loved him, she would not let Philemon hurt her sister.

"Ana..." His eyes widened with betrayal.

"I swore an oath. Hurt her, and you are no better than Basit. And you shall share his fate." She begged him with her eyes. "Drop your sword."