In the winding streets of the Persian Empire, a poor girl is chosen to become the third prince's concubine.
Aliya Farhad has no interest in the lofty ideas of the palace, the staff, or her lover. Prince Cairo has all the interest in his blue-eyed A...
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THAT NIGHT, WITH MARIA still sound asleep on the edge of my bed and the full moon glaring through an open window, I creeped out of my room, closing the door as quietly as I could behind me.
This feels just like deja vu.
Only this time, I'm not sneaking out of the palace.
I had never had light steps, but I had never cursed myself for it. But tonight was so much quieter than most nights; tonight, there was none of that odd scampering rat or sound of the wind rustling through the trees outside. No, when I walked, the only thing I could hear were the smacks my feet made against the palace floor.
Well, that and the sound of my heartbeat in my ears, but I was praying that that part was only distinguishable to me.
Out of paranoia, I glanced back into the hall, half expecting to see Ismal, once again, eyes disapproving and mouth pulled into a scowl. But the hall was empty, and just the sight was enough to calm me, even for a little while.
After all, it wouldn't be funny if I got caught tonight. The consequences might be even worse than if I was caught trying to escape the palace.
But something weird is going on, and I don't like not knowing what it is.
Khale A'isha used to say that I was too nosy, too curious for my own good. That someday, my inability to mind my own business would get me into trouble.
"Honestly, Aliya," she'd said, every time she'd caught me peeking around alleyways or staying at bars for just a little too long for her liking in order to eavesdrop on a conversation, or learn a trick or two of the trade, "you'd think a girl like you would have a little more caution in your blood. One of these days, if you don't learn to bite your will to scamper around, you'll get into real trouble, Aliya. Curiosity killed the cat, remember? And you, you only have one life with you. Don't waste it."
Sorry, Khale. But this time I can't let it go. I'll get to the bottom of this, I swear.
Perhaps if any of the staff were awake and patrolling the halls of the second floor of the West Wing, Khale's words would've come to truth. But none of them were, and, too afraid to take chances, I ran through the hallways as fast as I could.
The hallways in the Palace were set to only lead to one destination a time, and so I kept turning corners upon corners upon corners—
Where to go? Where is it?
Until I stumbled upon the foyer.
I sighed, resting my hands on my knees, panting as quietly as possible. "It should be around here somewhere," I mumbled. "When Abdul gave us the tour, I'm pretty sure I saw it. It must be—"
Bingo.
There, in the left corner, I spotted a tall, curling staircase wrapped around the walls, one that led all the way up to the third floor.
