IN A COORDINATED EXHALATION OF fabric, the six of them were seated. Chair legs shuddered over a plush rug as footmen nudged the breakfast guests closer to the table – and then there was stillness. An awkward silence descended over the lushly appointed room, curious snodas peeping through
the open doorway, heads bobbing in and out like so many chickens pecking. Sarra was seated at the head of the table, from where she watched them all with that unsettling smile. She seemed about to speak when there came a sudden jangle of silver; Omid had gathered up his flatware in one hand, inspecting the bunch as if it were a bouquet of flowers.
“Put those down,” Deen hissed from across the table.
Huda, who was seated next to Omid, pressed nervously on the boy’s arm, and he dropped the utensils to the table with a clatter.
Kamran closed his eyes in irritation.
“Why are there so many spoons?” he heard the child say. “And where is the food?”
Hazan shook his head at the boy, hard.
“But I haven’t eaten since yesterday,” he whispered loudly. “And she said there’d be breakfast.”
“An interesting selection of companions you have,” said Sarra, subjecting Kamran to another uncomfortable inspection. “I imagine you’d only bring the finest entourage on such an… important journey. I expect they were the best Ardunia had to offer.”
The prince clenched his jaw. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at the members of this ridiculous ensemble. He’d been mad with grief – with fear – when he’d made the ill-formed decisions to allow them into his life, and he was paying dearly for the oversight.
“Quite,” he replied coldly.
“Do you really mean that, sire?” said Omid, his head lifting. “Because I’ve always thought that you –”
Kamran shot him an ominous look and the boy sat back, his mouth snapping shut. Hells, it was like corralling cows.
Sarra turned her gaze to Omid. “What is your name, dear?” The child startled, upsetting his silverware again. “I’m Omid
Shekarzadeh, ma’am. I’m from Fesht province.” “Yes, so you said.”
He nodded.
“How old are you, Omid?” “I’m twelve years old, ma’am.”
“And what is your business with the crown prince of Ardunia?” Kamran visibly winced.
“Oh,” said Omid, puffing out his chest. “I’m the home minister, ma’am.
It’s my job to keep the prince safe at all times.”
Sarra lit up as if struck by lightning, eyes gleaming with pleasure. She then projected the full force of this pleasure at Kamran, who, at that moment, wanted nothing more than to burst into flames.
“Indeed?” she said softly, eyes on the prince. “Twelve years old, far too many spoons, and your job is to keep His Highness safe. Of all the
candidates the grand empire of Ardunia might’ve considered for such a position” – she turned again toward Omid – “the role was given to you. Goodness, you must be so proud.”
“Oh, I am.” He nodded eagerly. “Very proud, ma’am.”
Kamran pinched the bridge of his nose and very nearly groaned.
“This is what happens when you don’t listen to me,” Hazan muttered under his breath. “Idiot.”
The prince glared at him.
“And what is your duty here?” Sarra turned her cloying smile on Deen, who seemed to shrink under her attention.
“I’m – I’m an apothecarist, Your Majesty.”
When she continued to stare, he grew nervous and began to ramble.
“I own and operate an apothecary in the royal square. In Setar. That is, in Ardunia. I learned the trade from my mother. Started when I was a boy. I come h-highly recommended. Excellent reviews. Customers are pleased.”
Sarra drew back, hmming as she considering this, and seemed to decide he was a sensible choice for a royal retinue.
“You,” she said to Huda. “What purpose do you serve?” Huda blanched.
She looked around uncertainly, her brown eyes wide with fear, and for
the first time, Kamran studied her in earnest. Her hideous yellow gown was travel-worn and dusty, streaks of dirt visible along the frilly sleeves and high ruff, which was presently choking her throat. She appeared to have no neck. She wore no jewels save a small, glittering stud of an earring, and only in one ear. Her hair was scraped back from her face in an unadorned knot that did her no favors, and, in fact, gave her head the unfortunate
appearance of an egg. Kamran had never spent long considering Huda, for he’d never felt there was much to consider. He was not surprised, however, to find himself observing her now, for it was his practice to form a thorough assessment of his adversaries – and it was safe to say that this infuriating chit had recently made an enemy of him.
She had some charms, however.
On a different occasion in her acquaintance he’d noted her elegant bone structure, but he noticed now that she had deep, inky eyes that looked perpetually languid, ready for bed. It was the kind of half-lidded gaze that reminded him, with a twinge of awareness, that her birth mother was a courtesan.
“Well?” Sarra snapped. Huda flinched.
It was negligible – the way she jolted, briefly squeezing her eyes shut – and Kamran would’ve missed it had he not been staring at her directly. Yet he frowned at this, for it had seemed an involuntarily reaction of one
bracing for violence. It made him wonder whether she’d been struck as a child, and he was shocked by the spark of anger he experienced at the thought. Huda clasped her trembling hands before tucking them out of sight; he watched as she drew breath before she smiled, as if she were summoning courage.
“I – well, that is – I’m not sure a person should be reduced to a single
purpose,” she said, “for the human heart is known to contain such diversity of feeling and expression –”
“She’s here for the queen,” Hazan flatly supplied. Kamran glanced at him.
“Miss Huda is lady-in-waiting to Her Majesty.”
Huda sank back in her seat with relief, staring gratefully at Hazan. “Lady-in-waiting to the queen?” Sarra was saying, intrigued. She sat up
straighter, then steepled her hands under her chin. “Is it she who requires you to wear such hideous clothes, darling? Has she demanded you diminish your beauty in her presence?”
Kamran almost choked. As if Alizeh’s otherworldly beauty could ever be threatened by Huda, who continued to resemble an egg swaddled in the implausible scramble of its own yolk. He made a great effort to suppress a laugh, only for Huda to level him a glare so murderous it was practically treason. By the angels, Kamran was going to be a bloody king.
Men had been executed for lesser offenses.
He returned her glare with a furious glower of his own, briefly blinded by an outrageous desire to throw her over his shoulder, toss her in a boat, and send her out to sea.
“A terrible shame,” Sarra went on. “You look about as absurd as a court jester. And that ghastly shade of yellow, with your complexion! It’s very nearly criminal. Then again” – she smiled – “royalty can be odiously self- important. I would know.”
“Forgive me, ma’am, but you’re quite mistaken,” said Huda, her face ablaze with heat. “This gown was selected by my mother.”
“Your mother?” Sarra stared. “Good heavens. Does the woman hate you?”
Huda ignored this question with a thin smile. “Alizeh – that is, Queen Alizeh –”
Kamran winced.
“– is tremendously kind. I can’t imagine she’d ever force me to wear an ugly garment. In fact,” said Huda, warming to the idea, “in fact, she’s an exceptional seamstress. Just days ago I’d commissioned her to make me a rather beautiful gown, but sadly there wasn’t time to finish the job, and I’d no choice but to wear one of my older frocks on this journey.”
Hazan swore under his breath again and Kamran was tempted to do the same. Sarra had gone still, staring at Huda as if she’d lost her mind.
“You commissioned her?” the woman echoed. “You commissioned a queen, you mean, to make you a gown? Are you daft, girl? Tell me you aren’t serious.”
Huda looked around nervously before biting her lip. “No?” At the warning look from Hazan, she cleared her throat. “N-No. Certainly not,” she said quietly. “I wasn’t at all serious.”
Sarra lost her patience then.
“You,” she barked, turning to Hazan. “You seem to be the piece most likely to finish this puzzle. Tell me what you know of the girl.”
“What I know of her is none of your business.”
Omid gasped; Deen paled. Kamran almost cracked a smile.
The Queen Mother straightened in her chair, appraising Hazan now as if she might eat him. She sent a fleeting look at the footmen lining the back wall, made a gesture with her fingers, and the footmen were at once dispersed. There was the snick of a door closing before she pasted on an angry smile.
“None of my business?” she said, her eyes glittering with fury. “I know nothing of her origins, nothing of her parents – The girl is to be my daughter-in-law, and I’ve only recently learned of her title –”
“Your daughter-in-law?” Kamran cut her off, alarmed. He nearly stood from the table. Hell, he nearly lost his head. “You mean – It’s true? They
are to be married –”
“No,” Hazan said sharply. “It’s not true.”
“Of course it’s true,” Sarra countered. “That’s why you’re here, of course. To attend the impending nuptials as guests of my son’s bride. To forge peace between our empires after all the recent ugliness. To prevent war.” She shot a loaded look at Kamran. “Certainly not for any other
reason.”
The prince’s heart was pounding too fast. “This is intolerable,” he said, turning to Hazan. “She’s going to marry him? Did you know about this?”
“She’s consented to wed that foul man?” said Huda, looking ill. “That can’t be right.”
“No.” Omid was shaking his head. “Alizeh is a good lady, and he’s an awful, horrible, murdering, OW –” The boy frowned at Deen. “Why’d you kick me?”
“You can’t insult the king in his own castle, boy –”
“Kamran – listen to me – it’s not true, she hasn’t accepted him yet –” “Yet?” he exploded. “What do you mean, she hasn’t accepted him yet?”
For a moment, Kamran could’ve sworn he heard Sarra laughing; but when he looked at her, she appeared entirely composed.
“Here I was thinking I understood the motivations for your visit,” she said to him, her smile growing wider. “Now I see why you’ve truly come.”
“You spread unsubstantiated lies,” Hazan protested.
“Lies?” Sarra’s eyes widened. “Ask any servant in the palace what’s preoccupied their time lately; they’ll tell you they’ve been preparing for the arrival of the king’s bride.”
“That doesn’t mean she’s going to marry him –”
“Then why, pray tell, did I intercept her leaving my son’s bedchamber just last night?”
Pain shot through Kamran’s chest at that, radiating up his throat. He felt as if he couldn’t breathe.
“You amuse yourself, ma’am,” Hazan said angrily, “by planting seeds of discord. Her Majesty has no understanding with the king. Entering a bedchamber is proof of nothing.”
“It’s fairly damning,” Huda said, biting her lip. “Much as I hate to admit it. What other reason could she –”
“You would stoop to assume the worst of her based on an unsupported claim from a woman clearly delighting in our destruction?” Hazan was furious. “Where is your good sense?”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” said Huda, shaking her head quickly. “Truly, I didn’t – I just – Oh, please, I’m so very tired –”
“She lies, Kamran. I asked Alizeh this morning whether she was betrothed to the Tulanian king, and she told me emphatically that she was not. Despite having received an offer of marriage, she’s still considering her options –”
“Considering her options? That she would even consider marriage to the man who killed my grandfather – who nearly killed me – who murdered our
Diviners –”
“And who are you,” Sarra said to Hazan, her eyes hardening, “to call me a liar? What purpose do you serve here in this royal court of misfits?”
She held up a finger. “No, wait – let me guess. Things are becoming clearer, I see it now. At first I’d assumed that you, the boldest of these simpletons –” “Simpletons?” Deen drew back, offended. “I was trained at the Royal
Academy – my shop has been exalted in The Daftar numerous times –” “– had traveled here in service to the prince. The only capable
companion, the only one with a working brain –” “I beg your pardon –”
“I took you for a knight. I realize only now that your allegiance is, in fact, with the girl – and I’d love to know why. Who are you?” She tilted her head at Hazan. “So fiercely impassioned. So loyal. Don’t tell me you’re in love with her, too?”
Huda drew a sharp breath.
“Good heavens,” Deen said softly, then looked at Omid, who was shaking his head in horror.
Kamran, who’d never before considered this possibility, was entirely rattled. Slowly, he turned to face his friend.
It was a long, torturous moment before Hazan said, in a lethal whisper, “How dare you.”
At that, the room seemed to exhale, and Sarra appeared to blossom. “Oh, I think I like you,” she said. “I suppose I’ll let your troupe live
long enough to see the bride in all her glory.”
“But I thought” – Huda gaped – “I thought you’d already decided to let us live. In fact, I thought we’d come here to have breakfast.”
“I tend to change my mind,” Sarra said dismissively, before eyeing the prince. “I think it might be interesting to see how all this drama ends. I love a tragic love story.”
With controlled anger, Kamran said, “I’m not in love with her.” Hazan turned sharply in his seat. “What?”
It had been bothering the prince: the casual jabs, the crude suggestions that he’d traveled all this way in the pursuit of a woman who didn’t want him. Kamran’s pride could no longer bear such insinuations of weakness. It was still true that he cared for her; true that she’d moved him, deeply –
Indeed, how could he not have been moved by her?
She’d embodied eminence, traversed a harsh world with grace, and was possessed of a beauty that drove the breath from his lungs. She’d inspired in him a wealth of feeling he’d never imagined he might experience. Had she only returned his affections, Kamran might’ve known true happiness. But
he would never force his attentions upon a woman, and Alizeh had refused him twice now, walking away from him both times he’d pleaded with her to stay. Too, his cherished memories of her had lost their shine under the tarnish of recent disillusions, and, worse, Kamran wasn’t even certain he could trust her – she, who’d willingly risked her life trying to save his sworn enemy.
Given the tremendous uncertainties, Kamran would have to be the worst kind of fool to declare himself in love with her.
He would not.
He directed his next words to Sarra. “You seem to be under the impression that I’ve come here on a mission of unrequited love. That’s simply not true.”
“Kamran –”
“I just want to be clear” – he lifted a hand – “that while I admire her a great deal, I’m not in love with her.”
Somehow, this honesty seemed to anger Hazan. “You told me you wanted to marry her!”
“What?” Huda froze in an almost comical state of shock. “You wanted to marry her?”
“I did,” Kamran said to Hazan, ignoring this outburst. “I think I still might. But every minute brings me more confusion, and every revelation complicates her character. I’m realizing I haven’t the faintest idea who she is. It was a weak thread that bound us if she’s already considering an
alliance with the person responsible for destroying my life.” “But – the book – The inscription –”
“I need to see her again,” said the prince, shaking his head. “Too much has happened in the time we’ve been apart. I’m no longer acquainted with my own mind. Or hers.”
“I can’t believe” – Huda was still blinking – “I had no idea you intended to make her your queen –”
Kamran briefly turned his gaze upward, for he was resisting the compulsion to do something as ill-bred as roll his eyes. He feared that if he
allowed himself the indulgence of rolling his eyes at Huda, his eyes would eventually roll out of his head from overuse.
She turned to Omid. “Did you know he wanted to marry her?” Omid shook his head with great force.
Then, to Deen: “What about you? Did you know?”
“Certainly not,” came Deen’s dry reply. “The prince does not make a habit of involving me in the emotional turns of his heart. Though I have to admit it’s an interesting twist of fate, considering the way she once spoke of him in my shop.”
“She spoke of me?” Kamran faced him at once. “When? What did she say?”
Sarra laughed. “Yet he claims he’s not in love with her.”
Kamran looked at the woman. “Do you presume to know my own feelings better than I do?”
“It wasn’t altogether flattering, sire,” said Deen, flustered. “I shouldn’t have even mentioned –”
“What did she say about me?” Kamran demanded.
The apothecarist stiffened in his seat, his small dark eyes shifting. “She – Well, she seemed to question, sire, whether your lack of engagement with the general public spoke to an a-arrogance, or pretension, in your character –”
“Arrogance?”
Huda released a sharp, horrible chortle before clapping a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she wheezed. “I just – Heavens, I already knew I adored her, but now –”
“Of course I vehemently disagree,” Deen added hastily, “and to be fair to the young woman, I don’t believe she’d made your acquaintance at the time of this speech, for she spoke of you as if you were unknown to her –”
“I warned you,” said Hazan. “I warned you it was a mistake to ignore your public duties. Every function you skipped, every ceremony you avoided – I told you it would reflect badly on your character if you didn’t make the occasional appearance to soothe the hearts and fears of the common folk –”
“That’s enough,” Kamran said ominously.
He’d never thought of himself as arrogant, and the fact that Alizeh had chosen, at some point, to define him as such was an unexpected blow.
Certainly Kamran made no willful effort to be pretentious in his duties; he’d
simply abhorred the ridiculous functions that defined the crown. He loathed the aristocracy and the pompous heads of the seven houses; he tired of the awestruck commoners desperate to catch a glimpse of him; he resented the performances that paraded him about like a show horse.
Then again, he’d never understood their point.
As a young prince with a direct line to the throne, Kamran had been taught to consider himself vastly superior in the world and was seldom encouraged to look beyond the gilded tiers of his own domain. Only through Alizeh’s interference was he inspired to examine the rotted
structures that informed the suffering of so many. She was the reason he’d questioned, for the first time, the actions and motivations of his grandfather King Zaal. She was the reason he’d questioned, for the first time, the insufficient wages and protections of servants. She was the reason his eyes had been opened to the struggles of street children in their empire. Her
perspective – her patient eye for the anguish of others – had turned his own gaze toward the less fortunate, inspiring him to see not only the social
failings within his kingdom but also the ways in which he might be called upon to address them.
Nevertheless, the unfortunate truth was that Kamran had never thought to examine his own biases until his life had collapsed around him. It had never occurred to him that an unshakable belief in his own greatness might prove a weakness. Indeed, it had never occurred to him that life might one day deal him a lesser hand.
Perhaps, he thought with a pang, this was the very definition of arrogance.
Kamran stifled a sigh.
Even now, Alizeh had managed to deliver him a brutal lesson. Without fanfare she’d fallen from the heavens into the still waters of his life, and he wondered, uneasily, whether he’d feel the reverberations of her impact forever.
“The more I learn about this young woman,” Sarra was saying, “the more I look forward to welcoming her into my family.”
“Then you will be horribly disappointed,” said Hazan. “Such a marriage will not take place.”
“It will,” Sarra countered.
“What do you care who she marries?” Kamran said, his eyes darkening as he turned to her. “What interest do you have in her union with your son?”
“I don’t know that I do,” she said evenly. “I only suppose that a girl desired so ardently by the rulers of two powerful kingdoms – a girl who can command a crowd as she does – must be worth something, and I’m suddenly curious to know what, exactly, that might be. I do like to look after my own interests, after all.”
“Command a crowd? What are you –”
“She’s not magical or anything,” Omid said, confused. “We just like her a lot.”
“A ringing endorsement,” Sarra said drily.
“Actually,” Deen said, leaning forward. “Her body has a natural healing ability –”
“I mean it,” Omid insisted. “You’ve never met a kinder person. I tried to kill her in the street once, and instead of handing me to the magistrates, she offered me bread. I bet you’ve never tried to kill someone, ma’am, and had them offer you bread.”
Sarra’s lips parted in silent astonishment.
She blinked rapidly, first at Omid, then at Kamran, and, sounding a bit breathless, she said, “I’m afraid you’ve just raised more questions than answers, child.”
“She may not be magical now,” Hazan interjected, “but she will have magic. And when she comes to possess it, the entire world will recognize her power.”
“Is that so?” A flicker of unease moved in and out of Sarra’s eyes. “And what kind of magic will she come to possess?”
“I don’t… know yet.”
“I see,” she said wryly. “Sounds formidable.”
Hazan sent her a black look, but Sarra turned away, studying the prince with renewed interest. “So you’ve come because you seek her rumored power, sire, and not her heart?”
“I came here to kill your son,” Kamran said flatly. “Little else animates my interest at the moment.”
Sarra clapped her hands together. “In that case, you must stay until the end of the season, at the very least. Though if you do manage to kill Cyrus, I beg you to make it appear an accident, for I detest war, and do not desire bloodshed between our lands.”
The five of them, collectively, stared at her.
Gently, Huda said, “Are you joking, Your Majesty?”
“About which part, dear?”
Choosing to ignore this, the prince glanced at Hazan before saying, with great resignation, “We’ll stay just long enough to find out where she is.
Lord knows what he did with her.” He felt dazed suddenly; exhausted. “Hells, she might not even be alive.”
Sarra stiffened, color leaching from her face. “What?” “Oh, don’t say that,” said Huda. “We must not lose hope –” “She was injured,” Omid explained. “Earlier, ma’am.”
Sarra gripped the table for support. “What do you mean, injured?” “Forgive me,” said Deen. “But didn’t you see the moment she and
Cyrus fell off the cliff? When we were outside?”
“You fool,” Sarra snapped, standing up so fast her chair fell over with a thud. “If I’d seen anything of the sort do you think I would’ve wasted my
time with the lot of you? What on earth happened to her?”
Hazan, who appeared as disconcerted by this eruption as Kamran was, said carefully: “She was caught by a stray arrow.”
Sarra made a guttural, mournful sound. “By whose hand?” “Why is that important?”
“It’s of the utmost importance!” she shouted. “If Cyrus had anything to do with it” – she shook her head – “oh, I’ll kill him, I’ll really do it this time. By the angels, they’re going to riot again. They’ll set fire to the castle –”
“Who?” Deen asked, eyes darting around. “Who’s going to set fire to the castle?”
“When I’m upset,” Omid said helpfully, “I like to take a walk, and search the streets for spare coin –”
Huda squeezed the boy’s hand. “Not now, dear.”
“It was me,” Kamran said in an undertone. “I shot her by accident.” “You.” Sarra straightened in obvious relief, pressing a hand to her chest.
“It was you. Yes, we’ll tell them you did it. Your empire will take the blame. It was all your fault –”
“What are you talking about?” Hazan demanded. “Who are you referring to?”
“The Jinn!” she cried. “Thousands and thousands of them! I swear they were going to kill us all!”
“The Jinn?” Kamran echoed softly, stunned.
Hazan rose slowly from the table, his countenance visibly altered. His old friend looked shaken, his eyes burning with feeling. “What Jinn?” he said.
“Last night, they stormed the castle,” Sarra said, her breathing shallow. “Our Jinn population is normally very gentle – unlike most empires, we
allow them a measure of freedom to exercise their abilities without penalty – but yesterday – yesterday they were terrifying and violent. They threatened to burn down the palace. They threatened to destroy the city.
They wanted proof that she was alive, that she was unharmed –”
“I need you to be clear,” Hazan said to Sarra, a slight tremor in his voice. “Do you mean to say she was discovered? That she’s been revealed publicly as the long-lost heir to the Jinn kingdom?”
Kamran felt a twist in his gut.
“So that’s what she is?” Huda exclaimed. “I knew she was some kind of forgotten royal, but she never told me her true identity, only that she was running for her life –”
“It’s not some courtesy title?” Deen asked. “She’s a real queen, then?
All that time I’d thought she was a servant… And that horrible housekeeper, the way she treated her –”
“Servant?” Sarra stood frozen. “Housekeeper? What in heavens can you mean?”
“My queen has been in hiding for nearly two decades,” Hazan explained. “She’s taken odd jobs since the untimely deaths of her parents” – he touched two fingers to his forehead, then to the air – “doing what she could to stay alive.”
“How the drama unfolds,” Sarra breathed, clasping a hand to her throat. “But why would she need to be in hiding?”
“The Ardunian throne has been threatened by her existence for some
time,” Hazan offered coldly. “Her parents – and most all others who knew her in childhood – died in a series of mysterious and calculated incidents. She’s lived in hiding ever since.”
At that, Kamran experienced a burn of shame.
It had been Zaal, his late grandfather, who’d hunted Alizeh as a child. The Diviners had foreseen Zaal’s demise – had predicted his end would be orchestrated by a formidable enemy with ice in its veins – and Zaal, who’d been searching for any whisper of such a foe, had found her long ago, spending many subsequent years thinking he’d successfully murdered the
girl. It wasn’t hard for Kamran to imagine that Zaal had played a role in killing the others in her life as well. There were things about his grandfather he could neither reconcile nor condone.
“So she lived as a snoda?” asked Sarra. She’d picked up her fallen chair and was taking her seat when she glanced at Huda. “And a seamstress?”
“Yes,” she and Hazan said together.
“And now she is queen,” the woman said softly, her eyes dreamy. “Now she has the sovereigns of two empires vying for her hand. Now she – Wait –”
Sarra turned sharply toward the prince.
“The Ardunian throne was threatened by her existence,” she quoted. “Does that mean it was your grandfather who murdered her family?”
All heads swiveled to face him.
“Theoretically,” he bit out. “Though there is no proof.”
Sarra laughed. “You hope to marry the young woman whose entire family was slaughtered by your grandfather?”
“Again, it is not a certainty –”
“Your Majesty,” Hazan interjected, his voice urgent. “I fear we’re diverting from the subject at hand. Can you confirm that her identity has been revealed?”
Sarra met Hazan’s eyes then, and in the feverish depths of his gaze, she seemed to find focus. “Yes,” she said finally. “I don’t know how she was discovered; I know only that they came for her yesterday. Thousands of them. Shouting for hours. They only settled down after I begged her to speak to them –”
“She stood before them?” Hazan asked, paling. “She acknowledged, out loud, that she was their queen?”
Sarra hesitated. “Was it the wrong thing to do?”
“No.” Hazan blinked. “No, if she felt the time was right, then of course, it’s just – By the angels, this cannot be undone. The consequences –” He lifted his head, looking suddenly unnerved. “You must prepare yourself, ma’am. By now, word of her appearance has likely spread halfway around the globe. They’ll come for her from every corner of the earth – they’ve likely begun their pilgrimages already –”
“What?” Sarra said, visibly terrified. “How many will come?”
Hazan shook his head. “It won’t happen all at once. They’ll push through your borders in phases –”
“How many?” she cried.
“Millions,” Hazan whispered.
