Read The Last Prince of Dahaar for Free Online Page A

tight.
    Across the vast hall, her gaze met Prince Ayaan’s. And held.
    She had expected him to be just as isolated from her as he had been through the parade. And yet, she could swear he was tuned to her every step, every breath, as if they were the only two people in the huge hall.
    Her nerves stretched tight at the intensity of that gaze. It burned hot, alive, intense and she realized she was the cause of it. That awareness between them, it had a life of its own across the vast hall.
    Was he anchoring her or was she anchoring him onto a path neither wanted to go on?
    Sucking in a breath, she severed the connection, and focused on something beyond his shoulder. An uncontrollable shaking took root in her.
    She did not need his strength, imagined or real, nor did he need hers.
    The setting of the wedding, the festivities and joy around her, it was all getting to her.
    This marriage will be whatever you make of it.
    For once, Zohra agreed with her father’s practical advice and she intended to set the tone for it from the beginning. And that meant remembering the prince and she were nothing but strangers brought together by duty.
    * * *
    Ayaan heard Zohra’s answer to the imam’s question, her voice crystal clear with no hesitation in it. The second time and then the third time, she gave her consent to the wedding.
    Whatever doubts she’d had, no one would detect even a hint of it in her voice right then.
    Or that she was, in any way, not fit to be the future queen of Dahaar. After she had left that night, he had wondered not only at his father’s decision to choose a woman with tainted birth—even if it wasn’t her fault—but even more, someone as impulsive and hotheaded as her.
    But had his father seen the strength and poise she radiated with her very presence as she did now? Had he seen the assertiveness, the intelligence that shone from her gaze? Had he thought Ayaan needed an educated, even an unconventional wife to compensate for...
    Suddenly it was his turn to give consent and the imam’s words washed over him.
    He gave his consent, his promise to cherish, protect and love Zohra Katherine Naasar for the rest of his life, the words sticking in his throat.
    Protecting her—that was the only promise he could keep and to do that, he needed to keep his wife as far from the reaches of his darkness as possible. He slipped an emerald ring, seated among tiny diamonds, onto her finger. And extended his own hand for her to do the same.
    Her fingers trembled when they touched his, her movements betraying the anxiety she hid so well.
    From everything he had learned about her, his bride belonged in a category of her own. And despite every warning aimed toward himself, he couldn’t tamp down his curiosity about her. Especially as, for the first time in eight months, he could remember every sensation, every scent—every minute of his encounter with her in exquisite detail.
    His days, especially hours spent in someone else’s company, were usually a blur to him. Yesterday’s groom’s ceremony that his mother had observed with happiness glittering in her every movement was already a vague memory.
    He’d had only silence to offer when his mother had told him how happy she was that he had accepted this alliance. For every hundred words she said, he had only one.
    This morning had been the first time he’d faced Dahaar’s people since his return.
    He had choked in the face of the joy, in the expectations of the people of Dahaar and the crushing weight of it. They cheered him on, they called him a survivor, a true hero when the truth was he was fighting every waking and sleeping moment to stop his reality from turning into a nightmare.
    It was how he saw his life stretch in front of him. Isolated during the day and fighting his demons each night.
    Until his bride had stood at the entrance to the hall.
    He had sucked in a sharp breath, feeling as though a fog was falling away from his eyes. Suddenly, he had become aware of