THIRTY-FOUR
Mai hesitated in the doorway to the prince's apartments. They seemed bigger somehow, though she knew they had not changed. Only she had changed.
No, she scolded herself. She had not changed at all. She had merely lost the illusion that made her appear to be something she wasn't.
A small part of her wanted the prince to be awake, to recognise her for who she was, and claim her as his bride, like Lady Zuleika had said. But she was too mired in her grief to let even that tiny ray of hope lighten her mood. Her father was dead, and she must return home to mourn him. She would never dance with him in the courtyard again, nor bring him his tea, nor pray with him in the shrine as they laid out her mother's favourite incense. She could never thank him for all that he had taught her
