Eighteen

He looked exactly the same. The dark hair, just a little too long. The small mole sitting underneath his eye on one side, like a bold star. Broad shoulders encased in his same palace uniform—dark sherwani with gold detailing and high leather boots to his knees. Even the quirk of his eyebrow was something I'd memorized a thousand times.

And yet, bruised circles shadowed his eyes. His face was gaunt, sharper, more pronounced, as if he needed a few good meals in him. His posture was rigid, like his shoulders directed the rest of his body and they were made from the same steel as the long scimitar that hung at his side—a product of my father as well. His eyes, always dark, always filled with longing, were replaced with a different emotion. If I didn't know better, I would say it was sadness.

Good. He should be fucking sad.

He should regret every moment of every day since he betrayed me. But I knew he couldn't, not if it was in service to his precious emperor. If his life was sad now, it wasn't because of what he had done to me. But there was one thing I was sure of—Mazin wasn't happy. He was still a blazing force of authority and contradictions, but I knew him too well underneath to not see the restlessness there.

And this time the smile on my face was not forced.

You have no idea what I'm about to rain down on you.

"I am pleased to meet you, sahiba Khara."

My smile widened, and I tilted my head toward him. Noor and I had practiced this at least. I wasn't a born seducer, but I'd never had the motivation as I did now. I was going to throw the same tenacity into making Mazin fall in love with me as I did into learning the sword. Because when I revealed the truth, it would hurt far more than the sharp tip of steel.

My eyes flickered to the girl at his side, a girl I also knew very well. Her dark hair was woven into a braid and slung over her shoulder with a deep blue dupatta affixed to it and delicate earrings that made a soft tinkling sound when she moved her head.

She was also the same—innocent, trusting, lovely. And I felt not a single ounce of guilt that I was about to manipulate that trust to my heart's content.

"And who is this?"

"This is my sister, Anam."

Anam was impossible to hate, but I tried anyway. Permanent contagious smile touching her lips, predisposition to believe anyone and anything—she was a walking opportunity for every con man and imposter in the city.

Noor moved to the periphery of the room.

She was meant to leave Casildo and me to talk while she tried to gather information from his house. But I could tell from her expression she didn't want to go, not with Mazin now here.

But despite the unexpectedness, I tried to focus on the positives—Casildo had sped up the plans tenfold by introducing me to them.

"What brings you to our city, sahiba Khara?" Maz asked, and a little tremor went through me at the sound of his voice again. I didn't stop to analyze what that was.

"Please, call me Sanaya. And I am just visiting. My father wants to come to the city eventually and asked me to ready a place for his arrival." My own voice came out a little higher than I would have liked and I chewed on the edge of my lip.

"She purchased the vacant Jasmine Koti property," Casildo said, almost conspiratorially.

Mazin's eyebrows shot to his hairline.

I turned to the girl at his side. "You'll have to show me around the city, Anam. I've been to the bazaar but I have no idea who to buy from, who will cheat me, and who is lying to me."

Mazin chuckled as if I'd told a joke, and I wanted to smash his face into one of the glass cases. Instead I sidled closer to him. He'd only see what I wanted him to—Sanaya Khara, a beautiful chieftain's daughter who was unproblematic and sweet. I turned to him, a question in my gaze.

Our eyes met, and I felt unexpectedly breathless with the contact.

"Anam won't be able to help you with any of those things," he explained. "I wager my sister gets cheated regularly spending the emperor's money."

Anam looked shamefaced at Mazin's words but smiled at me. "I would love to show you the city, Sanaya, and the bazaar, despite what my brother says."

"Of course. And I don't believe his words for a minute. In fact, you are likely the one doing the bargaining, with eyes like yours."

Her gaze lit up, and she shot a look to her brother.

I turned back to Mazin, forcing myself to remember that in this body, with this face, I didn't hate him. In this skin, I wanted his adoration, as much as it made me want to retch. I wanted him to want me, just as much as he had pretended to want me before. Then I would rip his heart out while it was still beating.

"And what brings you to Casildo's home this evening, Sanaya?" He rolled my fake name on his tongue like a caress, and I felt my pulse speed up.

I remembered this about him—he was charming. Other girls would giggle to me about him constantly, hoping that I'd introduce them to him.

"I have an interest in swords and daggers of all kinds. I saw some of Casildo's collection in the bazaar and heard he might be interested in selling some of his private collection to me."

Mazin inclined his head. "And did he agree?"

Casildo's voice entered the conversation from the back of the room. "She's looking for a particular blade, one she said she saw at a market once, though I've no idea where. A dagger with a bone hilt carved into the head of a halmasti."

Mazin stood to his full height, his mouth pressing into a thin line. I was unable to tear my eyes away from him. He was behaving differently than I imagined. He wasn't boastful or arrogant. A small muscle ticked in his jaw that I recognized from every training bout we'd had together.

He was trying to keep his emotions in check.

Why?

"Mazin is being tight-lipped." Casildo sounded amused as he came to stand beside us. He took a long drink of his chai and then extended his hand for his cup to be refilled. A servant came rushing over to him. My lip curled. Casildo used to say he was a man of the people, would drink with my father over a fire outside of his smith with the villagers in camaraderie. Now he drank tea with crushed rose petals from gold-rimmed glasses and couldn't even fill his own cup.

"He knows the exact knife you seek. Unfortunately, it is not in my collection. But I do have something similar." Casildo gestured to the back wall, the glass case containing my father's blades.

I forced myself to look away from Maz and back to the swords on display. Noor stood next to them, and I met her gaze for the briefest of moments before looking back to the glass case.

I was grateful she was still here. She was a silent presence at the edge of the room, observing us all without being noticed—but just knowing there was someone here who had my back made me a bit more confident.

Even if she was terrible with a sword.

"The dagger you seek is very unique." Mazin's voice was a low rumble beside me. He had moved closer, so close that I could smell him and nearly closed my eyes at the memories that assaulted me.

The problem when someone you loved betrayed you was that you had a lifetime of good memories with them that you had to examine in a different light. What was once a safe place to be—beside him, engulfed in his arms, inhaling the smell of rainstorms and pine—was actually the most dangerous place of all.

I exhaled slowly to calm my pounding heart.

"I know of only one smith who created a blade with a halmasti head, though I doubt you saw it at a market. The man who made it only sold his wares directly."

"Really?" I turned to Maz, our faces inches apart. I shifted slightly and the cold steel of the dagger at my thigh reminded me that I had a knife on me. But I didn't want a swift resolution. I wanted him to suffer as I had. I wanted them all to realize what they had done, and regret who they had destroyed to their very last moment.

I smiled at him, taking satisfaction instead from the way his eyes lighted on my lips and not from envisioning his spilled blood.

"Really? You must introduce me to the swordsmith. I would very much like to meet him and buy directly."

That doused the smile on his face. His eyes darted to Casildo, a look of raw emotion crossing his features, his mouth twisting into a grimace before it all settled back into a smooth mask.

"He's no longer with us, unfortunately." Maz looked away from Casildo. "He died."

I coiled my hands to my side. "What a shame. How did he pass?"

"He was a traitor." Casildo's voice rang out through the room before Mazin could respond.

"He and his family tried to betray the emperor. They were arrested and executed."

I gritted my teeth. Not all of them .

"Indeed? That makes his knives worth even more, then." I forced my lips to lift.

Casildo gave me a greasy smile in return. "Exactly my thoughts." He turned to the case once more. "I think you might find a blade similar to what you saw here."

"Show me, please."

I had already pinpointed the knife he wanted to show me as soon as I saw my father's collection. This one had a pommel carved into the head of a northern mountain wolf, not as large as the halmasti, but to hear my father tell it, equally as fierce. But I would have all these swords back in my possession very soon. This moment was spinning the tale for Casildo.

The tale that I was wealthy, influential, and I could afford expensive trinkets with no more than a second thought. Because that would also gain entrance into the emperor's court.

The fact that Mazin was also here was wonderfully convenient for me.

I glanced at the dagger in question and inhaled excitedly as if I hadn't known exactly where it was all along. "Why, it's so similar to the one I saw! I must have it."

"I'm afraid it will be costly, coming from my private collection."

Mazin moved behind me, and I darted a look over my shoulder. He was remarkably still, watching Casildo with a veiled gaze. But then his eyes flickered to mine.

For a second I forgot I was pretending to be someone different. I forgot that I was looking at him through unfamiliar eyes. And when he met my stare it must have showed, because his own eyes widened, and he tilted his face as if he were examining a puzzle he couldn't quite figure out.

I caught myself—I wanted him intrigued, not suspicious. I wanted him to long to meet me again, not set his soldiers on me.

I turned back to Casildo and waved my arm distractedly, as if any amount would be inconsequential to me. Which was true, I would pay anything to get my hands back on my father's legacy. But this was to create the character we needed to take Basral. "My servant will provide the sum."

I nodded at Noor. Casildo held back a smile so wide it could barely contain his glee. A rush of warmth spread through me, the satisfaction of a plan clicking together like an intricate design on a sword.

Casildo needed to know how much possibility I had. So when he decided to try and take it, I would destroy all of his.

We departed soon after, Casildo counting his fresh coins and one of my father's daggers resting gently in an ornate box on my lap.

The satisfaction I felt faded, leaving a hollow bitterness that was compounded by Mazin's final expression. He didn't meet my gaze to say goodbye, nor did he attempt to take my hand to kiss it so I could begin laying the foundation of my seduction. Instead, the entire time we were walking out of Casildo's grand home, Mazin never took his gaze off that box.