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Chapter no 43

We Free the Stars (Sands of Arawiya, 2)

The Price of Dum Sihr is Always Great.ย Zafira had known this, and yet sheโ€™d done it anyway. If only Benyamin were here now, maybe he would help them make sense of what had happened. He would tell them why the Lion had barely flinched though her arrowโ€™s aim had been true. Why his wife had chosen the Lion over them. Why Altair, the brother of his heart, had stonily turned away.

There was only so much betrayal a soul could handle.

Theyโ€™d fled the peopleโ€™s rising murmurs about the Lion and the crown prince who had tried to kill him, and finally made it back to the palace. Zafira looked among them, their ever-shrinking zumraโ€”herself, Nasir, Seif, and Kifah. Numb, and broken.

โ€œWhy?โ€ Kifah asked hoarsely, spear whipping her leg and adding to the echo of their footsteps down the palace halls.

Zafira returned again and again to the defining moment when she realized Aya would not use her staff against the Lion. The moment she knew Benyaminโ€™s beloved was no longer one of them. She couldnโ€™t decipher which hurt more: that, or when Kifah had begged for Altairโ€™s help and he hadnโ€™t batted an eye.

โ€œDeception was always the Lionโ€™s gift,โ€ Seif said, pain softening his lofty tone. โ€œAya has been known throughout the years for two aspects: her unnatural beauty and her skills as a healer. It is obvious which of the two the Lion claimed her for, but I cannot perceive why.โ€ He looked at Zafiraโ€™s bow, seeing that moment when Zafira could haveโ€”should haveโ€”fired it. โ€œAya was my companion and my charge, or I would never have come here. I would never have left my caliphaโ€™s side.โ€

โ€œSheโ€™s still alive,โ€ Zafira reminded him.

What did it mean to be evil? The Lionโ€™s message could have resonated with anyone, especially someone as troubled as Aya.

Seif cut his gaze to her. โ€œShe is dead to me.โ€

โ€œUntil sheโ€™s truly dead, none of us can rest,โ€ Kifah said.

The words werenโ€™t cruel, only fact.

Dum sihr.ย It was easyโ€”slit her palm and meld it with the blood of the most powerful beings in Arawiya. Her compass would rise back to life, and she could find them again: the Lion, Aya, Altair. She bit back against the temptation. After what had happened, she knew that blood magic was not the answer.

โ€œAnd here we thought weโ€™d be smart stowing the hearts away. He clearly doesnโ€™t need them. He didnโ€™t evenย lookย for them,โ€ Kifah said with a sad scoff. A group of white-thobed emirs stared as they passed. โ€œBut why Aya? Maybe heโ€™s injured and needs her to heal him?โ€

Zafira shook her head. โ€œI shot him. Every one of us saw the outcome of it.โ€

โ€œIt should not have been possible,โ€ Seif agreed. โ€œBut it serves as further proof that with the Jawarat,ย anythingย is possible.โ€

Anything, indeed. Even splitting men in half. Zafira wondered if it was happy now. If she would ever be able to fill the gaping hole it had reopened by leaving her.

Seif continued. โ€œAltair is no longerโ€”โ€

โ€œHeย leftย us.โ€ Nasir, who hadnโ€™t been fully present since the Lion disappeared, finally broke his silence.

She felt his pain as if it were her own.

Her limbs wanted to propel her toward him, to comfort him, but her heart held her in place.

โ€œMaybe he had reason to,โ€ Kifah offered helplessly. โ€œI refuseโ€”I refuse to believe he left without a reason.โ€

But her usual ferocity had been dimmed by what theyโ€™d seen. Nasir clenched his jaw and dropped his hood, running a hand through the wayward strands of his hair, tightening his fingers and tugging, inflicting pain upon himself. โ€œHe wasย loungingย in that house.โ€

Kifah shook her head, adamant but quiet.

Zafiraโ€™s cup of sorrow had run empty, a strange numbness taking its place, denial lacing her edges. The haze of shadow had made it hard to see, but she could have sworn there were shackles around Altairโ€™s wrists.

An angry shout drew their attention as one. A scribe narrowly avoided colliding with an emir and darted down the hall, stumbling to a halt before Nasir.

โ€œAmiri,โ€ she said breathlessly, brushing two fingers from her lowered brow. Her lashes fluttered. โ€œThe sultan requests your presence.โ€

 

 

The throne room glowed like something out of a story in which honor and justice and love prevailed. Zafira almost laughed at the irony.

People like her looked at a place and wondered how to furnish it with the least amount of coins. The rich did the opposite, and the Sultanโ€™s Palace was no exception. Decadence spilled from everywhere. The cool tiles kept the bulk of the desert heat at bay, the dark rug leading to the throneโ€™s dais cutting a stark contrast. On the Gilded Throne, a structure as magnificent as the stories described it to be, the sultan lounged, tall and proud.

Zafira could see why Seif had decided not to join them.

She had only seen the man through the fiery summoning Nasir had done on Sharr, but he didnโ€™tย lookย any nicer now that the medallion was gone. A stern countenance was only part of a leaderโ€™s charge, Zafira knew, but she couldnโ€™t imagine the sultan ever being fatherly, even if he was handsome enough that she could see how the Silver Witch fell for his dark beauty.

What bothered her was Nasir, and how he looked like a man whose fortunes had turned and he had yet to believe it. She worried he was less attentive, which led to the worry, too, that she had begun to rely on him. He wore his wariness like a cloak, his fresh turban and thin silver circlet making her heart race a little too quickly, despite the defeat weighing heavily across them.

Men of the Sultanโ€™s Guard stood statue-like along either side of the room, their silver cloaks complementing the ornately paneled walls. How anyone could live under such constant vigilance was beyond her.

โ€œIbni.โ€ The sultan greeted him with a smile, but it was clear Nasir had gotten so accustomed to the terror the sultan had become that he didnโ€™t know how to react to the man his father once was. โ€œHow is your progress?โ€

Kifahโ€™s jaw clenched, and Zafira agreed. What was the point of Nasir freeing the sultan if the man wasnโ€™t going to help them?

โ€œDecent,โ€ Nasir said without elaboration.

It wasnโ€™t decent, they were failing. Terribly. And yet he revealed nothing. Laa, his tone was shaped to please.

Zafira held steady against a shiver when the sultanโ€™s gaze fell to her. She saw him through Lanaโ€™s eyes, and it wasnโ€™t hard to imagine ripping her blade across his neck, his blood so poisoned it ran black.

โ€œโ€”and we will delegate more resources,โ€ the sultan was saying.

โ€œI think we should delay the feast,โ€ Nasir said slowly.

The sultan considered him with a heavy exhale. โ€œWe spoke of this, Ibni.โ€

โ€œYes, and the feast is to celebrate the return of magic,โ€ Nasir insisted. โ€œA feat we are far, far away from.โ€

The words stung. How close they had been at one point, on Sharr when the battle was in their favor. When they had salvaged the five hearts from the Sisters of Old, before the Lion had taken Altair and the heart he protected. Her thoughts clattered to a halt.

Altair had the last of the hearts.

What ifโ€”no.

She refused to connect the thoughts. She refused to believe he had betrayed them so early on, with the corpse of Benyamin at his feet on Sharr, his friend whose soul was still bound with Altairโ€™s own.

โ€œThe banquet is tomorrow, and the delegates have already begun to arrive. It is too late; we cannot delay it. Are the maids and kitchen staff assisting in your efforts?โ€

Nasirโ€™s brow furrowed. โ€œNo, butโ€”โ€

โ€œThen they will continue preparations.โ€ Mirth played in the sultanโ€™s eyes as he looked to Kifah and then Zafira. โ€œYour friends will attend as well.โ€ His next words addressed them directly. โ€œI will have the tailors take your measurements.โ€

Zafira inclined her head as if this were the greatest blessing a man had ever bestowed on her. โ€œShukrun, Sultani.โ€

โ€œAnd that merchant in Sarasinโ€”Muzaffar, yes? Iโ€™ve invited him, too. It would be good to make his acquaintance and learn his views on certain measures so that we may possibly implement him as caliph.โ€ The sultan smiled. โ€œAs you suggested, Nasir.โ€

He tapped his scepter on the dais, and caught Nasirโ€™s flinch.

โ€œWorry not, Ibni. All will be well.โ€

His words made Zafira think of her own father, whose every word came from the heart.

โ€œYou may leave,โ€ the sultan concluded.

Nasir paused. But even ridiculed and likened to a dog, he had wanted his fatherโ€™s approval, and he acquiesced, the three of them slowly backing away, as if the sultan would die if they turned their back on him.ย Who knows? You should try it, Yasmine said in her head.

Spite will turn your hair gray, Zafira shot back.

Fancy necklace or not, heโ€™s responsible for thousands of deaths.

Zafira closed her eyes at the painful reminder. He was responsible for more: the tension across Nasirโ€™s shoulders, the fear knotting the words on his tongue, the scars on his back. Abuse. Years of it.

โ€œThere is one more matter,โ€ the sultan called, and her eyes flew open as they stopped with their ridiculous backtracking.

She kept her head low, every bit a humble peasant. โ€œNeither of us will ever know why the Lion sent out the

invitations, Ibni,โ€ the sultan began.

Zafira paused. Nasir had said that the sultan retained his memories from his time under the Lionโ€™s control. How could he not remember something as concrete as a reason?

โ€œAnd in order to make the occasion worth such a strenuous journey,โ€ he continued, โ€œwe will need to provide for Arawiyaโ€™s dignitaries.โ€

โ€œYes, of course,โ€ Nasir said slowly.

โ€œAs such, you will project your best at the feast, for you may meet your future bride.โ€

If it were possible for a personโ€™s entire body to slowly blink, Nasirโ€™s did just that. Zafiraโ€™s own chest stirred oddly. She could have sworn the sultan was watching her as he spoke.

Nasir opened his mouth with a parched wheeze, but the sultan wasnโ€™t finished.

โ€œThe Arz is no more, thanks to you. Now we must strengthen ties between caliphates, and as you are aware, the Pelusian calipha, as well as the Zaramese caliph and several wazirs, all have daughters of marriageable age.โ€

โ€œA bride,โ€ Nasir repeated hollowly in the expectant silence.

Kifah smothered a laugh with a terrible attempt at a cough.

โ€œA woman,โ€ the sultan said, and Zafira wondered if she imagined the temper in his voice, โ€œwhom you will wed and thenโ€”โ€

Nasir cleared his throat. โ€œShouldnโ€™t we wait untilโ€”โ€

โ€œNow is as good a time as any. Donโ€™t you agree, Huntress?โ€

Zafira started at the sudden attention. The faint lines across the alabaster tiles were suddenly the most intriguing in the world.ย Yes, Lana, Zafira thought. She very much wanted to kill him.

Nasir saved her from answering. โ€œIโ€™m not ready for โ€ฆ for a bride.โ€

Zafira looked up in the silence, wishing she could speak the words in her chest. Wishing she had her hood so she could stare without chagrin. The sultan leaned back against the burnished gold of the throne, considering his son. How were

they to know the sultan was truly himself now, and not the Lionโ€™s puppet?

โ€œYou will be ready, Ibni. It is only a matter of summoning the right amount of zeal for a pretty face. You are more than capable, arenโ€™t you?โ€

The words were a dismissal delivered with a double edge, but Nasir remained rooted to the spot, even as the doors opened for a pair of emirs. The sultanโ€™s attention drifted, though his guard continued to watch, and Zafira had the overwhelming sense of them mocking their prince in the silence.

โ€œNasir,โ€ she said softly, and because she was a fool who couldnโ€™t stop herself, because she was hurting and he was there,ย right there, and oh how she missed him, her arm swung forward and her fingers brushed his, warmth tangling for the briefest of moments.

He snatched back, blinking in a way that made her think he had forgotten she was here. He had forgottenย heย was here.

The sultan saw.

When the throne room doors closed behind them, Zafira hushed the skeins tugging at her heart, trying to steer her focus. Aya, the Lion, the heart, Altair.ย A bride.

Something burned in her eyes.ย Fatigue, she lied to herself, ignoring what this entire conversation was: a reminder of her place.

A sign, perhaps. She was a fleck of dust, adrift in the storm of sultans.

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