Kamran opened his eyes.

In the distance, a kaleidoscope of colors bedimmed, then

brightened. Soft murmurs of conversation carried over to him, the gentle footfalls of
scurrying servants, a blur of snodas. He'd never paid much attention to it; the centuries-
old uniform. Now every time he saw one he would think of that accursed servant girl.
Spy.
He nearly snapped his neck just to clear the thought. “What, pray, does the king want
from me?”
Hazan prevaricated. “Now that your people know you are home, I expect he will ask you
to do your duty.”
“Which is?”
“To host a ball.”
“Indeed.” Kamran's jaw clenched. “I'm certain I would rather set myself on fire. If that is
all?”
“He's quite serious, Your Highness. I've heard rumors that
the announcement for a ball has already been⠀””
“Good. You will take this”—Kamran retrieved the handkerchief from his jacket,
pinching it between thumb and forefinger⠀”“and have it examined.”
Hazan quickly pocketed the white handkerchief. “Shall I have it examined for anything in
particular, Your Highness?”
“Blood.”
At Hazan's blank look, the prince went on: “It belonged to the servant girl whose neck
was nearly slit by the Fesht boy. I think she might be Jinn.”
Now Hazan frowned. “I see.”
“I fear you do not.”
“Forgive me, Your Highness, but in what way does her blood concern us? As you know,
the Fire Accords give Jinn the right to w—”
“I am well acquainted with our laws, Hazan. My concern is not merely with her blood,
but with her character.”
Hazan raised his eyebrows.
“I don't trust her,” Kamran said sharply.
“Need you trust her, sire?”
“There's something false about the girl. She was too refined in her manners.”
“Ah.” Hazan's eyebrows lifted higher, comprehension dawning. “And in light of all our
recent friendliness from Tulan—”
“I want to know who she is.”
“You think her a spy.”
It was the way he said it, as if he thought Kamran delusional, that soured the prince's
expression. “You did not see
her the way I did, Hazan. She disarmed the boy in a single motion. Dislocated his
shoulder. You know as well as I do how the Tulanians covet the Jinn for their strength
and fleet-footedness.”
“Indeed,” Hazan said carefully. “Though I should remind you, sire, that the child she
disarmed was weak from hunger to the point of death. His bones might've been
unhinged by a strong gust of wind. An ailing rat might've bested him.”
“Just the same. You will have her found out.”
“The servant girl.”
“Yes, the servant girl,” Kamran said irritably. “She fled the scene when she saw me. She
looked at me as if she knew me.”
“Forgive me, sire—but I thought you could not see her face?”
Kamran took a sharp breath. “Perhaps you will thank me, minister, for employing you
with such a task? Unless, of course, you would rather I seek your replacement.”
Hazan's lips twitched; he bowed. “It is a pleasure, as always, to be at your service.”
“You will tell the king I must bathe before our meeting.”
“But, sire—”