For Better or for Curse

Prologue

Aisha would never forget the smell of her mother burning. The eerie hiss of fabric dissolving in the flames. The sweat trickling down her face and hairline as the fire intensified. Two blazing gold saucers that barely resembled her mother’s eyes.

She flinched when the queen flung her head back, eyes squeezing shut against the blinding heat. Then came the smell of singed hair. Aisha covered her nose and mouth in a vain attempt to block it. She didn’t have enough hands to cover her ears as well. Her mother’s screams were drowned out only by the strangled cries of her father, pinned to the ground by guards.

It took four men to keep him down.

They say the initial pain is the worst, before the flames burn the nerves. The victim dies from suffocation as the respiratory tract fails. But that’s not how her mother died. Someone merciful relieved her of her suffering, despite the overwhelming presence of holy warriors.

Aisha flinched a second time when an arrow struck the Queen of Avanid through the heart. Through blurry eyes, she saw her mother go limp, head tipping forwards. The collective gasp of the crowd had Aisha drawing a shaky breath and looking around. Her father had stopped fighting. Stopped shouting. Stopped moving altogether. His eyes were open but hollow. Dirt caked his lips, and blood coloured his teeth.

Her gaze travelled to her elder sister, Zara, white-faced and holding their one-year-old brother so tightly he was crying. Zara’s hand wrapped his small head, shielding his view, her own wide eyes reflecting the flames. The only reason Omar had travelled with them to Slevaborg was because he was still being nursed.

Who would nurse him now?

The holy warriors still had their swords drawn, blades bloody after slaughtering the guards who had fought until their dying breath to save their queen from this fate.

‘Mama,’ Lilah called, palms still pressed to her eyes.

Aisha looked down at her younger sister, whose shoulders rose and fell with each heaving sob. Thank the gods her two youngest sisters had remained in Avanid, spared the trauma of watching their mother die and their father’s heart shatter into a million pieces.

‘Mama.’

Lilah’s distress roused Aisha’s physical body. She drew her sister close, holding her tightly. ‘Shh’ was all she could manage to say. One small sound against a world on fire.

It’s what their mother might have said.

Zahvik stepped up onto the platform beside the fire, seemingly unaffected by the heat from the flames. He wore a white thobe with a deep hood that partially covered his face. Slevaborg’s sectarian. ‘Let this serve as warning to every covenweaver across the empire, whether she be a peasant or a queen: If you invite the devil to our lands, we will stamp him out.’

This was the first time Aisha had heard her mother referred to as a ‘covenweaver’. She had always referred to herself as a healer. Her knowledge of medicinal plants was unmatched. She saved lives. She had saved a life that very morning.

And it had cost her own.

‘Good intuition is the mark of a good healer,’ she had told Aisha earlier that day. ‘Ignore the labels used by others.’

They had labelled her a covenweaver.

‘Mama,’ Lilah cried into Aisha’s chest.

All Aisha could do was hold her tighter. What other comfort could a ten-year-old possibly offer an eight-year-old when her own limbs and mind were like jelly? They both needed their mother. The next best thing was their father, but he remained on the ground despite the warriors no longer holding him.

‘Baba, get up,’ Zara said, standing over him with a crying baby. ‘Get up!’

He didn’t get up. Or he couldn’t.

Thankfully, their carriage driver had been spared. He came forwards and helped the king to his feet. His hands shook violently, and his eyes darted nervously about, as if he were expecting someone to stop him.

When Zahvik stepped down from the platform and came towards them, the driver paled but kept hold of the king. Zahvik looked between the girls.

‘I am deeply sorry for your loss,’ he said with what sounded like genuine sympathy. ‘I pray you and your family heal and find comfort in the fact that the devil no longer resides in your home.’

King Bilal blinked, fat tears rolling down his cheeks and disappearing into his dusty beard.

Zara’s face twisted with anger. ‘You killed her!’ She might have lunged at the man if she had not been holding Omar.

The baby cried harder, startled by her raised voice.

Zahvik gestured to a nearby warrior, and a moment later, they were surrounded by armed men. The warriors pushed the carriage driver aside, took hold of the king, and began dragging him to the waiting carriage. The girls hurried after their father, Zara shrugging free of warrior hands each time they reached for her.

‘Don’t touch me!’ she shouted at them.

Aisha was too broken to shout at anyone. Too numb. She barely noticed the hand on her shoulder. She was faintly aware of Lilah still clinging to her waist and her brother’s wailing, though it sounded distant due to the ringing in her ears.

The driver climbed up atop the carriage and gathered the reins as the family was ushered inside. The door closed half a second before it lurched forwards. Zara sat opposite her sisters, and her eyes locked with Aisha’s. Neither of them knew what to do next, what to say to their siblings, or how to help their father, who was curled up on the carriage floor, gripping his hair as though he meant to tear it from his scalp.

The girls jumped when a figure appeared at the window of the moving carriage. A boy, maybe fifteen years old. Holding tightly to the door with one hand, he extended the other. In it was their mother’s crown. Zara reached out and took it, her eyes meeting the boy’s. Then, without saying anything, he let go of the door and disappeared from sight. They never heard his feet hit the ground, because the pounding of hooves drowned everything else out.

Everything except the crying.

‘Mama.’ Lilah spoke the word into Aisha’s tear-soaked robe.

Aisha gathered her sister close as feeling returned to her fingers. But with the return of feeling came the return of emotion. It seemed to hit her all at once, knocking the air from her lungs as it arrived. She pressed her eyes closed when it turned to nausea.

Another sob from Lilah. ‘Mama.’

Mama.

 

Chapter One

The sound of hooves approaching on the stone roadway drew the sisters to the balcony. They rarely received visitors, and they were all keen for a glimpse of the Crown Prince of Gruisea.

‘Which one is he?’ Lilah asked, looking between the faces of the men, now visible.

Aisha was also having difficulty distinguishing the young royal from his guards. They were all dressed in the same cream thobes with matching headscarves. It seemed they weren’t taking any chances with the holy warriors along the borders, who were now roaming the city as though it belonged to them.

‘I think that’s him on the left,’ Yasmin said over the top of her cat’s head. Her other cat sat beside her foot like a guard dog.

Aisha narrowed her gaze. ‘How do you know?’

‘Because he looks the most miserable.’

Aisha pinched her.

‘Ow.’

‘It’s true,’ Safiya said behind them, arms crossed and feigning disinterest. ‘Everyone knows Gruisea’s royal family is the dullest in the empire.’ She was against the plan to place Lilah in his path. If she had her way, none of them would ever leave Khorasan Palace. But that wasn’t the world they lived in. An unwed princess in the Slevaborg empire was a wasted opportunity. Smart alliances were the only path to survival. Even King Hamza of Gruisea knew that. It was why he wed his only daughter to the Crown Prince of Kuzebet the day she had come of age.

Prince Tariq had not risked crossing the sea and entering Avanid for a few pleasantries and a cup of tea. Trade was the word being passed around court. The Emperor had Gruisea’s limestone mines in a chokehold. But there was a second reason he had come in person.

The prince was on the hunt for a future queen.

Aisha snuck a glance at Lilah, who was peering over the guardrail. She was everything one could want in a queen: smart, graceful, loyal, charismatic, intuitive. And her beauty would bring any man to his knees. She was the ultimate bait for any prince.

‘Is he here?’ Omar shouted as he leapt out onto the balcony.

Safiya caught him mid-leap. ‘If Zara sees you running on the balcony’—she wrestled him into a secure hold—‘she’ll blame us.’

Being the eldest, Zara was burdened with the responsibility of worrying about everyone in the family. She had only been eleven when she took on the role of mother to five children. Plus, she had to look out for the current king while protecting the future king.

Zara was the closest thing Avanid had to a queen.

‘I can climb down from here,’ Omar said, looking up at Safiya. ‘I’ve done it before.’

Safiya clamped a hand over his mouth in response.

He was twelve years old with five older sisters. Some boys might call that hell, but Omar enjoyed being the youngest and the only boy. He wasn’t fussed about the king part—yet.

The prince had been the queen’s parting gift to Avanid before her execution. Five daughters, three miscarriages, and a stillborn son whom she had held for two days. Then Omar arrived—early, true to his character. Healthy despite his small size. He only got a year with her and no memories to show for it.

‘Back from the guardrail, all of you,’ Zara said as she stepped out onto the balcony. Her gaze went from Omar to Safiya. ‘Will you let him breathe, please?’

Safiya’s hand remained in place. ‘He can breathe just fine through his nose.’

Shaking her head, Zara continued forwards to get a look at the prince—since no one was moving back as instructed. Yasmin made room for her, and Omar pulled free of Safiya’s grip, pushing between them.

‘Which one is he?’ Zara asked.

Lilah wrapped her arms around Omar. ‘They’re all dressed the same, so we don’t know.’

One of the men chose that moment to look up in their direction, spotting them all on the balcony. Everyone took a fast step back—except Aisha, who held his gaze despite the nervous pounding of her heart. That was him, the prince. Somehow, she just knew it.

‘In the middle,’ she said.

They all took a step forwards, Lilah at the front.

‘How do you know?’ she asked.

Aisha didn’t have an answer. Her mother’s strong intuition, perhaps.

Safiya made a face. ‘Hope your children get your nose.’

‘Ignore her,’ Aisha said. ‘You can’t even see his nose because it’s covered.’

Zara leaned forwards and whispered, ‘Keep your voices down. If he hears you, it will be a long wait for the next prince to arrive.’

Aisha took Lilah’s hand.

‘Down to the courtyard,’ Zara instructed, adjusting the silk folds of her skirt. ‘All of you. Make sure you’re there to greet our guests.’ She ran a hand over her hair to smooth it despite not one strand being out of place. ‘I’ll get Baba.’ With that, she left the balcony.

Safiya ushered Omar, and Yasmin set the cat down and followed.

When Lilah went to move, Aisha held her in place.

‘I’m fine,’ Lilah said, sounding defensive.

Aisha searched her sister’s eyes. She was afraid. Of course she was. ‘Trust yourself when you meet him.’

Lilah offered a reassuring smile. ‘It doesn’t matter what I think. It matters what he thinks.’

The words struck Aisha like a knife. ‘Don’t say that.’

‘It’s true.’ She squeezed Aisha’s hand. ‘We need this.’

Her beautiful sister, with all her beautiful human parts, reduced to an asset for trade.

‘I’ll remain at your side the whole time. Fill every awkward silence. Ensure the light is hitting you at just the right angle. Whatever you want.’

Lilah laughed. ‘I appreciate that.’

Looping her arm through her sister’s, they went inside.

***

He was taller than Aisha had expected. A full head above Safiya. His watchful guards stood back, but within hearing range. As the women approached, his gaze met Aisha’s for the second time before shifting to Lilah.

‘May I present my sisters, Lilah and Aisha,’ Safiya said, gesturing to each in turn.

He bowed, which was unnecessary, but it gave Aisha a moment to get a proper look at him. Even fully covered, she could see the outlines of a strong body. This wasn’t a man who sat idle. The only visible parts were his hands. Veins traced the backs of them like desert rivers. When he straightened, she noticed his eyes were moss green up close, ringed with bright gold. The shadow of stubble gave him a rugged edge.

‘This is Prince Tariq,’ Safiya said, in case it wasn’t clear to anyone.

‘Welcome to Khorasan Keep, Your Highness.’ Lilah wasted no time. ‘How was the journey here?’

His eyebrows knitted together. ‘Challenging.’ He looked at Aisha, whose turn it was to say something. Instead, Omar beat her to it.

‘Is it true that if I were born in Gruisea, I would already be considered a man?’

Tariq assessed him. ‘That depends on how old you are.’

‘Twelve.’

The corners of Tariq’s eyes creased. ‘Not quite.’

‘At what age can a man marry?’

‘Certainly not at twelve.’

Aisha placed a hand on Omar’s shoulder, silencing him. ‘I understand this is your first time in Avanid. What are your thoughts so far?’

When he looked at her, it was like staring into a rich forest.

‘It appears to be a very well-organised kingdom,’ he replied.

Clearly, he was trying to be polite.

‘I hear the scenery in Gruisea is breathtaking,’ Lilah said.

‘It’s a little more rugged than Avanid.’

‘I can’t even remember the scenery outside,’ Yasmin said, looking off in the direction of the wall.

An awkward silence followed.

Aisha cleared her throat. ‘Shall we head to the garden and see if the king has arrived yet?’

Tariq gestured for them to lead the way, but Lilah walked at his side while the others walked behind them, watching. His party of guards followed at a distance.

‘How long have holy warriors been posted inside your borders?’ Tariq asked Lilah.

She kept her eyes on the ground in front of her. ‘Almost a year now. What remained of our army moved inside the walls.’

He looked around. ‘I see.’

Lilah went for a subject change. ‘Do you sail often?’

Aisha pretended she wasn’t listening to every word exchanged.

‘It’s enjoyable when the seas are calm,’ he said.

‘And when they’re not?’

A frown settled on his face. ‘Less enjoyable.’

Zara and their father appeared ahead, Zara’s emerald dress trailing behind her as she walked. The king walked with a slight limp, a symptom of his sedentary life. He left his quarters only when forced.

Tariq stopped before King Bilal, bowing. ‘Your Majesty.’

‘Your Highness,’ Bilal said, finding a shaky smile for their visitor. ‘Welcome.’

‘Thank you.’

Bilal looked around at his family. ‘I see you have already met everyone.’ He gestured to Zara. ‘This is my eldest, Zara.’

‘Welcome to Khorasan Palace, Your Highness,’ Zara said, bowing her head. ‘How wonderful that we were finally able to make this meeting happen.’

He responded with a polite nod.

‘Come,’ Bilal said. ‘Sit. Rest.’

They all made their way over to the table where a servant was laying the last of the refreshments. The autumn breeze was a refreshing change from the scorching summer heat that had lingered for far too long.

‘Yasmin, why don’t you take Omar for a walk?’ Zara suggested.

The youngest siblings excused themselves and wandered away.

Everyone else took a seat, Lilah next to the prince. Zara poured some tea.

‘Thank you,’ Tariq said.

The king discreetly wiped his already sweaty hands on his robe. ‘And how is your father?’

Tariq drank before answering. ‘He’s well, thank you, and sends his respects.’

‘Good, good.’

Tariq cleared his throat. ‘I hope you don’t think me rude for getting to the point of my business,’ he said, shifting in his chair, ‘but our ship isn’t safe in your port, as you know.’

Bilal’s face reddened at that. ‘I understand. Please, go ahead.’

‘As you’re likely aware,’ Tariq began, ‘we have the largest supply of limestone in the empire. I’m currently trying to gauge demand.’

Zara frowned. ‘Gruisea has been exporting all over the empire for decades. How’s it possible that you don’t have that information?’

There was a beat of silence before he responded. ‘All trade goes through Slevaborg now. The Emperor chooses which information is passed on.’

Did he say all trade? It was worse than any of them had realised.

‘I see,’ Zara said, taking the opportunity to steer the conversation. ‘It sounds like you need more than figures. While information is a great foundation, foundations don’t build fortresses.’ She paused. ‘If Gruisea and Avanid are to survive the threats encroaching on us, then perhaps we need to align more closely.’

And there it was—Avanid’s hand laid out for him to see.

The subtle tightening of Lilah’s shoulders was the only sign of her discomfort. Small, but enough to draw Tariq’s attention. His green eyes seemed to darken as he set his cup down on the table with a soft clink.

‘Go on,’ Tariq said, looking around at the captive audience.

‘One of mutual benefit and longevity,’ Zara continued in a steady voice.

The prince nodded. ‘I see.’ His gaze returned to Lilah, staring at her as if he were deciphering a puzzle. ‘Such an alliance would require deep trust.’

Zara nodded in agreement. ‘In times like these, trade is no longer enough.’

Aisha swallowed down the odd sense of guilt and complicity at the trap being set. All while her father sipped his tea and said nothing. He’d been letting Zara make big decisions for years, and this was no different.

Tariq sat back, fingers drumming on his thigh. ‘Since we’ve established we don’t have time to waste, what is it that you’re proposing?’

Bilal cleared his throat, and when everyone looked at him, he reached for his cup and drank.

Frowning, Zara turned her attention back to Tariq. ‘Gruisea has a proud history of great queens. Women who have stood alongside their kings, not merely as ornaments but strategic partners in governance.’ She paused. ‘Lilah here embodies all the traits a crown prince like yourself would seek in a wife.’

The conversation was going exactly as planned, and yet Aisha had never felt more uncomfortable. She could only imagine how hard it was for Lilah.

When Tariq didn’t speak, Zara continued. ‘Lilah is a paragon of grace and dignity. She has been trained in diplomacy from a young age, mastering the art of negotiation along with other relevant skills. Her intellect is matched only by her compassion.’

Tariq’s gaze went briefly to Lilah, his expression unchanging.

‘She understands the weight of duty,’ Zara added. ‘She knows what it means to serve her family, her people, and the greater good.’

‘From behind walls,’ Tariq replied casually.

His words had Aisha speaking up in defence of her sister. ‘I’m sure you’re aware of the reasons for that, Your Highness.’

Green eyes locked on hers once more. ‘A queen must understand the realities of the world outside the walls of her keep. Gruisea is not Avanid.’

‘Lilah is a quick study,’ Zara said. ‘Adaptable.’

His gaze shifted back to Lilah. ‘And yet your sisters speak for you.’

Flustered, Lilah opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out.

Aisha was tempted to step in and fill the silence, but this was Lilah’s moment.

‘I—’ Lilah cleared her throat when her voice cracked. ‘I would do everything within my power to rise to the occasion, for the sake of our families and kingdoms.’

Tariq shook his head. ‘You wouldn’t survive.’

Safiya, who had done remarkably well to remain silent up until that point, could stay quiet no longer. ‘Do they not teach decorum in Gruisea?’

Tariq shrugged. ‘I thought we all agreed not to waste each other’s time.’

Lilah reached for her cup, but her hand was trembling and it slipped from her fingers, smashing on the ground. She stared down at it in horror.

A servant rushed forwards to clean the mess, and Aisha instinctively bent to help. Apparently Tariq had similar instincts, because they both reached for the same shard of porcelain, fingers meeting. On contact, a sudden wave of heat surged up Aisha’s arm, and the ground blurred and faded. The sound of her sisters’ voices dissolved, replaced by the sound of waves lapping against a wooden hull. The tang of salt filled her senses. Looking around, she realised she was aboard a ship, the deck swaying gently beneath her feet. Aisha gripped the railing for balance, eyes drawn to the horizon, where a rugged coastline beckoned her. Then she saw him, standing a few feet away as the wind whipped his hair.

Tariq.

When he looked in her direction, the scene disappeared. The ground and broken cup were before her once more. And Tariq’s face, mere inches from hers, staring.

Aisha bolted upright, her pulse pounding in her ears. She took hold of her chair to stop herself from swaying. Thankfully, another servant arrived, filling the space between her and the prince, silently sweeping up the mess with a small broom.

Aisha looked around to see if anyone else had noticed. Safiya and Lilah were out of their chairs, politely excusing themselves. Understandable given the humiliation. But Zara was looking straight at Aisha, head tilted and an all-knowing look on her face. It had been a long time since Aisha had experienced a vision. She thought she had shut that part of herself down—just as Zara wanted.

When Aisha could take the stares no longer, she rose. ‘Please excuse me.’ She managed a smile, though she still felt dizzy. ‘I’m just going to check on Yasmin and Omar.’

Tariq stood courteously, despite his far from courteous words earlier, and bowed his head.

Aisha left, trying not to hurry but desperately needing a moment. She was almost at the main doors when she heard Zara call her name. ‘Aisha, stop.’

Her feet obeyed her sister against her own wishes. Damn feet. Aisha turned, slowly, and watched Zara approach. Her face appeared calm, but her eyes gave away her true state. She stopped in front of Aisha and looked around before speaking.

‘What happened back there?’ Her eyes moved over Aisha’s face as if looking for lies before she had even opened her mouth.

‘She was clearly nervous, and the cup slipped—’

‘You know very well I’m not asking about that.’

Aisha had no choice but to disappoint her with the truth. ‘I should have worn gloves. I didn’t think. It had been so long.’

Concern was etched on Zara’s face. ‘You saw something.’

‘I don’t know.’ A lie. ‘It’s been over a year since—’

‘What? Suddenly you can’t recognise it when it happens?’ Zara gave her a doubtful look. ‘Enough of that. I need to know what you saw.’

Everything Aisha was about to say would ruin all their plans. ‘I was on a ship. Sailing towards an unfamiliar place.’ She swallowed. ‘Tariq was there.’

Zara’s eyes widened a little. ‘You were on a ship? With the prince?’

Aisha nodded.

There was a long, thoughtful silence before Zara said, ‘We can fix this.’

‘What do you mean?’

Zara held on to her hips, turning in a circle as she worked through the implications. ‘You can go to Gruisea in her place.’

Aisha blinked, shocked. ‘What?’

Stopping, Zara asked, ‘You’re sure it was you on that ship?’

‘Yes.’ The word was a whisper.

Zara nodded, as though deciding on something. ‘Then you will take her place.’

Aisha stepped back from her sister’s words. ‘No. You’re putting too much faith in what I saw.’

‘Have they ever been wrong? These visions of yours?’

Aisha tried to think of one time they had been inaccurate in order to back herself but came up blank.

‘What about when Omar cut his foot,’ Zara continued, ‘and you saw the whole thing the day before it happened. Was any detail incorrect? The colour of his trousers, perhaps?’

Aisha exhaled. ‘No.’

‘Then this path has already been decided, hasn’t it?’

A thousand thoughts and feelings hit Aisha at the same time. ‘You heard what he said. He doesn’t want a wife raised inside walls.’

‘We already know he will want you.’

‘But why?’ Aisha shook her head. ‘He doesn’t know anything about me.’

Zara looked around as though the answer lay somewhere in the courtyard. ‘Well, Baba always said he knew from the moment he laid eyes on Mama.’

The comment threw Aisha. Zara never spoke of matters of the heart because it wasn’t practical. They had all assumed that part of her had been suffocated years ago.

‘I just know we need to take full advantage of this attraction before it wanes,’ Zara added. Then, softer, ‘We’re running out of time.’

That sounded much more like the sister Aisha knew.

‘So I’ll go back in there and get this deal done,’ Zara said, the strength returning to her voice.

Aisha glanced in the direction of the garden. ‘And if we’re wrong?’

‘I can be wrong.’ Zara took a slow step forwards, closing the distance between them. ‘But your vision can’t.’

Coming January 22. Pre-order here.