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Alizeh did not want to lose faith in this world; it was only that every pain she owned seemed to extract hope from her as payment.
He understood it, but he did not know how to accept that she would be killed, she who treated with mercy a boy who’d tried to murder her, who was born a queen but made her living by scrubbing floors and was, in return, thanked for her hard work with only abuse and tyranny. He’d thought her mad for falling to pieces over a few coppers worth of medicine, never considering that those few coppers might be all she had in the world.
“Indeed,” the minister was droning on, “it is often to our benefit to maintain a sense of rivalry with another powerful nation, for a common enemy helps keeps the citizens of our empire united, reminding the people to be grateful for the safety promised not only by the crown, but by the military – to which their children will devote four years of their lives, and whose movements have been so well-calculated in this last century, under the guidance of our merciful king.
“You have consumed my thoughts since the moment I met you,” he said to her. “I feel now, in your presence, entirely strange. I think I might fetch you the moon if only to spare your tears again.”
Mashallab
