“I DIDN’T MEAN YOU HAD to speak with them,” said Huda, who was chasing Alizeh down the hall with discernible anxiety. “I only meant that they’ll see you as you leave the grounds, and I just thought you might like to look your best –”
“Nearly four weeks,” Alizeh cried. “Almost a month they’ve been waiting for me, Huda, how could I possibly walk past them without a word? I must speak with them. Anything less would be cruel –”
“I – I, forgive me, but I don’t know if this is such a good idea –” said Deen, who, along with Omid, was hastening to keep up. “I don’t think Kamran would approve –”
Alizeh stopped, causing Huda to topple into her. She apologized before righting her friend, then turned to face the apothecarist.
“Why wouldn’t Cyrus approve?” she asked.
Alizeh should’ve been embarrassed that she was so eager for any opportunity to
discuss Cyrus; even then she couldn’t understand her desire to hear someone say his name. “I didn’t” – Deen blinked. “Forgive me, did I say Cyrus? I meant to say Kamran.” “No, you’re right,” said Huda, even as she shot Alizeh a strange look. “You did say
Kamran.”
“Oh.” Alizeh looked away, trying to hide her disappointment. She began walking again, the rustle of her skirts echoing in the stone hall. “I must’ve misheard you.”
“We’ve sent word to him, by the way,” said Deen, keeping up. “Last I heard he was preoccupied with some business, but he should be here shortly.”
“Who? The king?”
“No, Kamran,” said Huda, who sounded concerned. “Are you all right, dear?”
“Yes,” said Alizeh, touching a hand to her throat. She was looking around blindly, searching for the exit. “Yes, I’m fine. How do we get out of here?”
“How can you move so quickly in that gown?” said Huda, gathering up her hem as she moved. “The train alone is four feet long!”
“Not that you don’t look lovely,” Deen added hastily. “Which you do. Quite lovely.”
Alizeh glanced back at him, her anxiety briefly overpowered by gratitude. “Thank you,” she said with feeling. “I’ve never worn a garment so exquisite in my life.”
It was a masterpiece of pale pink silk, lace, and diamond- studded tulle. Every inch of the material was embellished with intricate gold patterns, fine stitches glimmering with
yet more shining gems. The fabric of her bodice, with a high collar and long fitted sleeves, was a sheer illusion, artfully woven with shimmer and glittering rose-colored stones. Atop her head she wore a matching diaphanous veil, which had been weighed down by a gold circlet that glinted like a crown. She’d yet to glimpse her own reflection – there’d been no time – but all she had to do was look down at herself and her breath caught with wonder.
After all her years as a servant, Alizeh still struggled with splendor. She didn’t believe a person was made better by wearing finery, but she could not deny the power of a garment. It was one of the things she’d loved most about being a seamstress: bolts of
fabric could be fashioned into something like a weapon. An outfit might be used to build a person or break them down. Just then, this opulent gown had helped shift her mindset.
She rather felt like a queen.
“There’s a door to a courtyard up ahead,” Huda was saying, “and from there you can access one of the balconies –”
“This is a bad idea.” The former street child was shaking his head, his long legs helping him keep pace easily. “I don’t think you should do this. There’s a million people out there, miss.”
Huda rapped his arm and he flinched. “I mean, Your Majesty.”
“Huda assured me it was fewer than a hundred thousand,” said Alizeh. “And you don’t have to call me Your Majesty.”
“I don’t care how many people there are,” Omid shot back angrily. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Alizeh stopped in place, she was so surprised.
Slowly she turned to face the boy, discovering genuine fear in his eyes. Laughing off his pain, she knew, would only wound him. She, too, had lost both her parents at a tender age; she knew how terror and loneliness propagated alongside grief like invasive weeds. There had never been another warm embrace. Never another loving hand to stroke her hair. Never a day she didn’t struggle with the impermanence of joy. In a matter of months this poor boy had lost his parents, lived on the streets, saw his friends murdered for Zaal’s profit, and then lost the Diviners.
He was afraid he’d lose her, too.
Alizeh watched Omid swallow back a knot of emotion before she drew forward, opening her arms to him. He towered over her by at least a foot, but she knew he was just a child – a child like so many others in need of comfort. At first he paled at her offer, but then, looking as if he might cry, he stepped into her embrace, turning a shade of red so bright it clashed with his ginger curls.
“I don’t want to mess up your dress,” he mumbled. She only held him tighter.
“Don’t you worry about me,” she said finally, giving him a squeeze before holding him at arm’s length. “I’ll be all right.”
He looked toward the floor, his face still blotchy with color. “I do worry, miss. I do worry. You already almost died. And I know what it’s like in big crowds – me and the boys used to pull our best hauls at gigs like this. Thieves and rogues love to work a big crowd –”
“I hate to say it, but the child is right,” said Deen. “You mustn’t put yourself in danger. Besides, you’ve only just awoken – maybe you should take time to recuperate a bit more. I could brew you a medicinal tea to revive your spirits –”
“I appreciate your concern,” said Alizeh, looking around at her friends. “Really, I do.
But I must speak with my people, even if it endangers me to do so.”
They only stared at her, their expressions registering varied levels of panic and resignation.
“There’s something more you wish to tell me,” Alizeh said, her brows pulling together. “What is it?”
“The whispers along the trade routes have been worrisome,” said Deen quietly, though he wouldn’t look at her now. “Many merchants of my acquaintance have written to me, asking about you, and the stories they’ve shared in return –” He shook his head. “Your Majesty, it is imperative that you know how many there are who wish you harm.”
“It’s true,” Huda added, her eyes darting from her to Deen then back again. “Forgive me, dear, but a great deal has changed since you were injured. Even here in Tulan there are many against you. The sheer influx of migrants has been frightfully disruptive – it’s angered the citizens, no matter how peaceful the crowds have been. They don’t really… want you here.”
“It’s worse than that,” said Omid angrily, retrieving a folded newspaper from inside his jacket, which he thrust toward Alizeh. “They want you to die.”
“Omid!” Huda gasped, trying to snatch the paper out of his hand. “You shouldn’t have brought that!”
His jaw set in a determined clench, Omid easily evaded this effort and handed the paper to Alizeh, which she carefully accepted. She knew from its dusty-green pages that she’d been handed a copy of The Daftar, Ardunia’s most famous newspaper, though she didn’t know how they’d procured a copy so far from home. She looked once more upon her friends’ faces – worried, worried, and angry – before turning her eyes to the publication, shaking it open to read the headline.
ALARM AROUND THE WORLD AS JINN UPRISING IMMINENT
Tulan Under Fire, Prince Kamran Tries to Sow Peace, Threats of Violence Escalate
MESTI – In an unprecedented historical feat, tens of thousands of Jinn have swarmed the royal city of the southern kingdom, with the promise of more to come. These unwanted migrants, hailing from all over the world,
are the first wave to descend upon Tulan, though they arrive with one purpose: to pledge their allegiance to the one they believe to be their queen. Jinn tradition has long hinted at the prediction of a savior, though many have cause to doubt the precipitous rise of a young woman who, according to numerous reports, has not yet claimed the mantle of leadership. Witnessed only briefly before a much smaller crowd, the alleged queen refused to offer any material information about her identity, evading direct questions and offering vague promises of explanation at a later date, which thus far have never materialized.
For nearly a month the reputed queen has been in hiding, reportedly citing a need for “calm and reflection”
while her followers languish within Tulan’s borders, and the empire’s citizens live in turmoil. It is widely circulated as fact that the Tulanian king has chosen the mysterious young woman as his bride, an incendiary political decision that could throw Tulan into further chaos. It remains to be seen whether such a union will take place.
The Tulanian king, Cyrus, has refused to comment.
An uptick in criminal activity within Jinn communities has already been noted worldwide. This past week the empire of Zeldan struggled to quiet a series of riots at one of its largest camps, while two prison guards in Sheffat were reportedly murdered in an altercation with a prisoner. A Jinn uprising, according to Dr. Amira of Reinan, acclaimed professor of Jinn studies at Setar University, “could result in one of the bloodiest world wars in history.”
Ardunia, sharing a border with Tulan, has seen the largest exodus of Jinn thus far, a cause for alarm in many communities throughout the empire. Gomol province, located in the north at the base of the Arya mountains, has
been all but hollowed out, many homes and storefronts abandoned. Local shopkeepers have expressed fear for the future of their businesses, with bushels of fresh grain and produce going unsold.
Still, the popular vote remains with Prince Kamran, to whom many have expressed tremendous gratitude. A rare leader of a mixed kingdom, many Ardunians hope the prince will be able to sow peace beyond Tulan, helping to lead the world in a balanced approach to Jinn citizens everywhere. It is yet uncertain when he will return home for a long-awaited coronation; though new information has led royals to speculate as to whether his delay is due to an altogether different interest. Some say the rumored Jinn queen is in fact the same young woman few were able to identify the evening of the royal ball –
Deen snatched the paper from her hands and Alizeh startled, looking up to find the apothecarist blinking nervously as he backed away.
“As a medical professional, Your Majesty, I cannot recommend reading the news –” “Deen –”
“Give it back to her!” Omid cried, swiping at Deen to retrieve the newspaper. “She should know what they’re saying –”
“Omid,” said Huda patiently. “She doesn’t need to know this much.” “She should know! You didn’t even let her read the worst part –” “All right,” Alizeh said quietly. “That’s enough.”
Omid exhaled sharply, setting his jaw as he stared at the ground. His anger was a palpable thing, and it touched Alizeh to see him so concerned on her behalf.
Still, she needed to sit down.
Alizeh would be lying if she said she hadn’t been affected by what she’d read. She was more than affected. She was disturbed and frightened and overwhelmed.
Certainly, she’d been naive.
She’d not anticipated such anger from the rest of the world; she’d never imagined the ways in which Cyrus and Kamran could be embroiled in her fate; and she’d been willfully blind to the far-reaching dangers of her role. Still, Alizeh was less offended by threats against her life than she was by the insinuation that she’d abandoned her people. Nearly a month they’d been waiting for her. Families. Children. The infirm and elderly. She had no idea what difficulties they’d endured.
She’d never meant to leave them for so long.
She closed her eyes on a sigh, then looked about herself in carefully contained agitation, feeling shaky and unsettled, but there was nowhere to rest. Like all else she’d seen of the temple, the stone hall they stood in was worn and weathered, but the pitted walls were broken up by a series of narrow windows that looked out onto an interior courtyard, where brilliant light and signs of life bloomed toward them.
Huda, who’d seemed to read Alizeh’s mind, made as if to usher her toward that courtyard when Omid stepped swiftly between them, blocking the door.
“No,” he said, his eyes bright with fury.
Huda placed her hands on her hips. “I know you’re scared, Omid, but now you’re being ridiculous –”
“I’m not being ridiculous,” he countered. “If she goes out there, she’s going to hear them, and then she’ll never –”
“Hear them?” Alizeh said, peering through the window as if she might see sound. Only as she focused did she finally hear the soft hum of noise, a vibration of what might be a
chorus of voices. “What are they saying?”
Deen shook his head at Huda. “I can’t believe I’m repeating this, but, again, I agree with the child. It’s dangerous for her to go out there, and we shouldn’t encourage it –”
“It’s not up to us!” Huda cried. “I don’t agree with this, either, but neither do I think I have the right to force her –”
“So you’re going to let her get killed?” Omid all but shouted. “Omid –”
Deen shook his head again, this time more vigorously. “If Hazan finds out we’ve let her stand, unprotected, in front of a hundred thousand people, he’ll murder us on principle –”
“It’s fewer than a hundred thousand –”
“Please, I’m not as fragile as you seem to think,” Alizeh objected. “I’ve always been able to protect myself –”
“No one thinks you’re fragile, miss,” said Omid, his voice grave. Heavens, she’d never seen him so serious. “Just because we want to protect you doesn’t mean you’re weak – it means you’re important –”
Alizeh moved toward him and he fell silent at once, his words dying on an exhale. She took his hands as she met his fevered gaze.
The hall, too, went eerily quiet.
Omid had aged in her absence, she could see it in his face. She felt he was too old for a twelve-year-old, too tall, too punctured. Still, steady meals had filled out the hollows in body. His brown eyes were no longer overlarge and sunken; no longer skittish; no longer stricken with hunger. In fact he seemed broader, fuller, more concrete. It was terrifying to
imagine that this vibrant young boy had once driven a crude dagger into his own throat – had once attempted to kill himself in the middle of a town square. Alizeh recalled this shocking fact with a painful spasm, her urgency fading as she heard the faint tremble of his breath, saw the tension straining his shoulders.
“You,” she said softly, staring up at him, “will always be dear to me. For your kindness, for your loyalty – for your courage in the face of everyday cruelties. I wish you’d never suffered; I wish you a lifetime of ease. I wish for you to see your own strength – to see every difficult choice you made in order to forge your pain into an armor of resilience and compassion, when you could’ve used it instead to spiral into darkness.
Should you ever want a place in my life, you will have it. But right now, in this moment, you must let me go. I will return to you, Omid. I swear it.”
The boy looked at her for a long time, his eyes swimming with restrained feeling, then turned his gaze to the floor. “All right, miss,” he whispered. “If you go, I’m going with
you.”
“No,” she said, breaking away from him. “It’s too dangerous – you said so yourself –” “I’m coming, too,” said Huda, squaring her shoulders.
“And I,” said Deen, looking grim as he stepped forward.
“But” – Alizeh looked around at them – “you’ve just spent the last several minutes warning me away from the crowd –”
It was Huda who said, “Yet you are unafraid.”
“Of course I am afraid!” Alizeh said, laughing even as her eyes teared. “But don’t you see? If I let fear keep me from doing what is right, I will always be wrong.”
“Spoken like a true queen,” said Huda.
It was Deen who said, quietly, “Let us hope for the day when we might all remove our masks, and live in the light without fear.”
Alizeh stiffened, turning to face him. Deen had recited aloud something she’d once said to him. She hardly knew what to say.
“Those words are emblazoned upon my cold, shriveled heart,” he said, smiling faintly. “I’d quite like to live in a world where you are queen.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I’m so grateful for your friendship.”
“And I, yours.” His smile deepened. “I must say – I always suspected you were no ordinary snoda. But I never expected this.”
“Ha!” said Huda. “Neither did I.”
Omid shook his head, discreetly wiping his eyes. “Nah,” he said, switching briefly to broken Ardanz. “You was always a queen to me, miss.”
Alizeh looked at her friends, a tight joy unfurling inside her. She was reminded then of something her parents used to say to each other – when they dropped things; when they lost an argument; when they bumped into each other in the kitchen; when they made silly mistakes. They’d laugh, lock eyes –
“Shuk pazir ke manam, manam,” said Alizeh.
Thank you for receiving me as I am.
Omid’s eyes widened, then he laughed out loud. “I haven’t heard that since before my parents died.”
“Ooh, I know this one!” said Huda. “Shuk nosti ke tanam, tanam.”
Thank you for trusting me with who you are.
It was another well-loved call and response.
Alizeh studied her friends’ faces a final time. Gently, she said, “I will go on alone. You will all stay here. And there will be no arguments.”
She saw the flare of shock in their eyes, the fraction of a second before they could form fresh words of protest. It was her cue to leave – and she would’ve done – except that just then a dozen hooded men and women appeared suddenly and without a sound, as if conjured from smoke.
Diviners now stood sentinel at intervals all along the corridor, so motionless Alizeh wondered whether she’d imagined them.
More to the point, she was mesmerized.
It shouldn’t have been a surprise to see Diviners in their own temple – certainly not when they’d cared for her with such dedication all these weeks – but Alizeh had never seen Diviners in the flesh, and she felt a strange thrill in their presence, a pull she couldn’t name. Strangest of all: she couldn’t see their eyes, and yet, somehow, she knew they were staring at her.
“Hello,” she said quietly.
In response, the priests and priestesses pivoted toward her in unison, their black cloaks shimmering like molten steel. As one, they pressed their hands to their chests and bowed their heads.
Omid drew a sharp intake of breath.
Alizeh glanced at him, registering the alarm in his eyes before noting a similar agitation in Deen and Huda. She herself felt a prickle of anxiety, for this synchronized response from the Diviners was unfathomable to her.
Not knowing how else to acknowledge a greeting from such esteemed figures, Alizeh chose to mirror the motion, bowing her head as she pressed her hands to her chest. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “For everything.”
This time, the Diviners only vanished.
There was a moment of unnerving silence in the aftermath, during which Alizeh struggled to straighten her thoughts. The Diviners had healed her and cared for her; she couldn’t understand why they seemed unwilling to speak with her. Worse, she’d hoped to ask about her missing nosta, and now she wasn’t sure she’d have the chance.
In the end, it was Omid who broke the tension.
“By the angels,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know you were a Diviner.” “Neither did I,” said Deen, his voice breathless.
“Were you meant to keep it a secret?” asked Huda, who looked almost afraid of her now. “Were we not meant to know?”
Alizeh fell back a step, she was so astonished. “No – that is – you misunderstand. I’m not a Diviner,” she said emphatically. “I’ve never even touched magic. They were only being polite –”
Omid was shaking his head. “When I lived with the Diviners, miss, they didn’t bow their heads at anyone except each other.”
“That can’t be true –”
“It is true,” said Deen, watching her closely. “Diviners don’t show that kind of
deference to anyone outside the priesthood. They don’t even bow their heads before the king.”
