Seventeen

 

Father had assembled what looked like his entire court, Maram reflected as she surveyed the crowded audience chamber. Ali the Vizier and horrible Hasan stood triumphantly on the dais at what would be her father's right hand, which was why she stood as far to the left as she could. But she wasn't hiding – even if she could in such a garish dress. The rose coloured gown and matching veil were richly embroidered in silver and gold. A diamond necklace matched the jewelled fillet that held her veil in place. Despite their magnificence, her diamonds were a calculated insult. She'd inherited them from her mother and they were well known, for the former Sultana had worn them to court as often as she attended.

Maram felt Hasan's eyes on her as her father's herald announced the Sultan's arrival.

Her father had a smile for her that she happily returned. Never mind that he wanted her to marry the wrong man – he had her happiness in mind, however misplaced his plans for it might be. No matter. Maram would make plans of her own.

The Sultan reached the dais and commanded the court to rise. This took a moment, as many had prostrated themselves and clothing had to be straightened. When the susurrus of silk-smoothing had died down, Father cleared his throat. "My subjects, before I hear today's petitions, I have happy news to share with you. My daughter, Princess Maram, is engaged to marry Vizier Ali's son, Hasan. The wedding will take place once Hasan has finished building a palace suitable to house my favourite daughter."

Hasan's grin died as he stared at the Sultan in horror. Ah, Father had not warned him earlier, it seemed. Maram made no effort to hide her triumphant smile as she surveyed the cheering crowd. A royal wedding meant a feast, and an excuse to show off their finery, with perhaps the opportunity to win favours from the celebrating Sultan or the newlyweds.

Only one pair of eyes appeared as shocked as Hasan's – that of Aladdin's mother, Sadaf. She stood at the back of the crowd, barely visible behind the more pushy petitioners, but she met Maram's gaze as squarely as though the two women were equals, so great was her shock.

When the cheering died down, Maram excused herself and made her way through the crowd to where she'd seen Sadaf. She needed to speak to the woman, to ask if her son had returned.

Yet when she reached the back of the audience chamber, Sadaf was nowhere in sight. Maram hurried outside, hoping to catch the woman before she left.

"You arrogant bitch. When you are my wife, I will see that you learn your place," a voice behind her snarled.

Ah, Hasan. He'd followed her out here.

"If I become your wife. You forget you have a palace to build first," Maram returned. There were a dozen guardsmen within hearing distance – if Hasan so much as touched her, they would arrest him in an instant at her command. But if she married him...he'd probably try to beat her to death. Try, and succeed.

"I'll build a brothel for the likes of you. That should be good enough for the whore to foreign pigs."

More than ever, Maram regretted letting this man live. Not for long. She'd find an assassin before sunset.

Maram smiled sweetly. "Build as many brothels as you wish. I'm sure you will need all the money you can muster to build a palace that meets my expectations. Oh, did my father not tell you? When he said you must build a palace fit for a princess, it is this very princess who will judge its quality. My place will be a palace as befits my high station. Whether it is my father's palace or yours will be up to you." She scanned the square, but it seemed that Sadaf had disappeared.

Cursing Hasan for distracting her, she headed back to her apartments. Her only consolation was that she left him cursing just as colourfully behind her.