ALIZEH DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO process this latest revelation. Omid’s limited experience with the Diviners of Ardunia surely didn’t speak for all Diviners everywhere, but Deen’s corroboration of the fact was giving her pause. Regardless, she wasn’t sure it was the right time to argue the point. Her mind was already struggling to process the deluge of the day’s
declarations; it seemed impossible to add to this maelstrom the possibility that the Diviners might recognize someone like her as their peer – She, who’d never so much as touched
magic –
Alizeh bit her lip, for that wasn’t precisely true.
She’d never thought of her own peculiarities as magical, exactly, but she was forced to admit that the ice that ran through her veins was, irrefutably, a kind of magic. In fact, Alizeh had always been set apart from the other Jinn she’d known, for she’d been strange even among her own kind. It was only her blood that ran clear; only her body that healed itself; only she who could withstand the blaze of a fire. Her Book of Arya, too, was an enchanted object – one that came alive only in her hands.
Alizeh looked up at her friends; everyone was studying her warily. This time, she really needed to sit down.
She moved unsteadily down the stone hall and pushed through the heavy wooden door of the courtyard, its entrance opening onto cracked travertine pavers. She heard the others following, their footsteps chasing hers, and as soon as she was outside she drew fresh air into her lungs, her legs nearly giving out as her body bore this latest shock.
The high walls of the courtyard, she noticed, were thick with flora, among them mature jasmine vines that released a honeyed fragrance carried by the breeze, and which brought her great comfort. At the center of the garden sat a large, circular reflecting pool, around which were arranged a series of crescent-shaped stone benches, fashioned in various phases of the moon.
Blindly, Alizeh sat down on one such bench. Huda sat down beside her. Deen and Omid took seats nearby.
She closed her eyes and took more deep breaths, and as the thunder of her heartbeat slowed, the muted chants of the masses grew louder. Outside in the courtyard the body of sound was more distinct; Alizeh listened closely as voices rose and faded like the swells of
the ocean, the sorrow in their songs giving way to hope, reaching a crescendo so epic she could suddenly hear the words clearly.
We cried until our eyes went blind We lost our voices, too
We slept each night inside our graves always in hope of you
Alizeh stiffened, her nerves forgotten.
Justice!
Justice!
For the land that once was ours For the millions that were slain For the rivers red with blood
For the centuries of pain
Slowly, she got to her feet.
For our parents in the ground For the coffins that we built
For the tiny hands and quiet hearts of the children who were killed
Her chest heaved. She felt as if her parents had stood up inside her and screamed.
Justice!
Justice!
For our eyes as they went blind For the voices we lost, too
For each night we slept inside our graves always in hope of you
Our armor is our hope Our weapon is the truth
We sleep each night inside our graves We pledge our faith to you
Alizeh pressed a shaking hand to her mouth, fighting back tears. There was a roar of sound as the chant ended, jubilant shouts and cries. She wiped desperately at her eyes.
“I must go,” she said, turning to face Omid. “Forgive me, but I must go to them now –” “Wait – miss –”
“But –”
“What will you say –?”
Alizeh picked up her skirts and ran through the courtyard, which wrapped partly around the side of the central building. She searched for the balcony, encountering it so suddenly
she gasped just as someone screamed, drawing back a step as the sheer size of the crowd overwhelmed her. Alizeh had never seen so many people in one place in all her life, and the idea that they’d come for her – that they were all there to see her –
It filled her with feeling so severe she could hardly breathe.
Jinn of every race and age and station – Scores of men and women with children in arm or else on their backs; young ones napping in the grass; crowds of youth tightly gathered in
shock, the elderly struggling to their feet to get a better look.
The mass seemed to stretch on endlessly.
There were more sharp screams, fingers pointing in her direction, but it was a moment before the crowd truly saw her, before their cries quieted to a silence so complete it was frightening. They turned to her as one, the breathless focus aimed in her direction driving home, for the first time, the magnitude of her responsibility. Alizeh had never seen Jinn gathered like this, never known with certainty whether anyone would even accept her as a leader.
She took a steadying breath, trying to find her voice, and as she drew closer to the balustrade, the silence broke. People began shouting –
“My queen!”
“Is it really her?” “Your Majesty!” “She’s here!”
Only then, as she parted her lips to speak, did she realize the enormity of her error. She was not yet a crowned queen.
She had no throne, no kingdom, no authority, no real magic. Even her clothes were borrowed. The last time she’d stood before her people she’d had good reason to delay answering their questions. But now –
“When will you take the throne, Your Majesty?” “Will you marry King Cyrus?”
“Will we go to war?” “We will go to war!”
Another roar from the people, their fists rising in the air.
Her heart pounding madly in her chest, Alizeh’s mind was a swarm of tangled thought.
She wanted to answer them, wanted to –
She saw the dagger before she fully understood what it was, the gleam of silver in the distance appearing like a glimmering bird before it focused into a blade, aimed directly at her throat.
Alizeh froze.
Perhaps if her head hadn’t been so splintered – if her heart hadn’t been afflicted with myriad pains – if she hadn’t been so recently astonished by her own shortcomings as a leader –
Perhaps if she’d been in better possession of herself, she might’ve gathered her wits about her, harnessed her supernatural strengths, and simply moved out of the way. Instead, she fell back on old instincts, doing what came naturally to her when attacked:
She fought back.
Alizeh threw out her arm with unthinkable speed, adrenaline heightening her focus as she watched the dagger, as if in slow motion, spin with exceptional aim toward her throat. She caught the weapon at an unnatural angle, the hilt hitting her palm with a hard thwack,
so forceful the impact she was swung off her axis before being slammed cruelly against the wall. The breath knocked from her lungs, she made a soft sound of pain as she heard the crowd scream, their frenzied voices clamoring. They were already turning on each other, searching for the perpetrator, and even in the midst of her own trials Alizeh knew she needed to calm them – knew that if she did not, violence might soon erupt – but she
couldn’t seem to pry herself from the wall. She knew without a doubt that the weapon had been enchanted, for the dagger continued to shudder in her hand, its unnatural power more than matching her own. Even as she fought it, the shaft twisted her fist inch by inch, the
blade soon pointing again at her throat.
Alizeh closed her eyes, called upon her strength, and with a violent cry managed to shift away from the wall, using gathered momentum to pivot – and bury the blade in the stone behind her. It lodged, to her great relief, with a terrible sound.
Alizeh staggered back around, facing the crowd in a daze, her tired arms trembling, her heart racing. She couldn’t seem to focus her eyes as she listened to their raucous cries; she was busy trying to catch her breath when – There, again –
Like déjà vu, another gleam of silver.
She blinked, certain she must be imagining it, and the moment she took to steady her mind cost her the only opportunity she might’ve had to react. She heard a bloodcurdling scream as she registered, too late, a need to fall back.
Suddenly, she was knocked to the ground.
Alizeh hit the stone floor with a muted cry, the weight of another body landing heavily against her. She heard the uproar of the masses, the chaos exploding. She tried to get up and was immediately pushed down again, though out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed the profile of Hazan’s familiar, freckled face, and then, just above her head, buried in the wall behind her: two daggers. The second one had missed her by inches.
“Hazan?” she gasped.
In response he rendered them both invisible, hauled her up into his arms, and moved her with lightning speed back into the walled courtyard, where he set her down at once. Even then he was careful not to disturb her dress as he steadied her, though her veil and its accompanying crown were falling off her head, and she caught them both before they hit the ground.
“Hazan –”
“Forgive me, Your Majesty.” He cut her off, his fists clenching as he avoided her eyes. “I’m too angry right now to speak to you in the manner you deserve.”
Alizeh felt a wash of mortification. She never thought Hazan could be so cross with her. “You idiots!” he bellowed without warning, spinning away from her. “I can’t believe you
let her go out there!”
Alizeh turned to see her trio of friends rush into view.
“She insisted!” said Deen, striding forward. “We couldn’t physically stop her –”
“I tried to tell her!” Omid yelled, his face mottled with color. “I tried to go with her! I told her it was a bad idea – I even wanted her to read the paper – but no one listens to me –”
“Are you all right, dear?” Huda hurried toward her and grabbed her arm, guiding her to a bench. Then, to Hazan, “Is there any chance we can see the weapons?” And, “Omid, can you ask the Diviners for a glass of sugar water?”
Hazan glanced at Huda, then left to retrieve the blades; and though Omid clenched his jaw in response, he nodded before walking away.
Alizeh watched them branch off as the cold of the bench seeped through her clothes.
She was suddenly freezing again, and she didn’t understand the shift. She was fatigued from a depletion of adrenaline, her back aching where she’d slammed against the wall. Her right arm was so tired she could hardly lift it to adjust her veil, which was still slipping off her
head. She didn’t even realize she was shaking until she saw her hands tremble; she would have to sit a moment with the fact that someone had tried to kill her. Twice.
Heavens. For as long as she could remember, someone had been trying to kill her. She was, quite frankly, tired of it.
Hazan returned a moment later, holding up the murderous daggers for all to see. They were identical, though they looked simple enough: steel blades, gold shafts.
“They’re an enchanted pair,” he said. “They’ve been vibrating since the moment I yanked them out of the wall.”
“Vibrating?” Huda asked.
“Trying to finish the job.” He kept a tight grip on the hilts even as he strode to the door. “I need to hand these off to the Diviners immediately.”
“Trying to finish the job,” Alizeh repeated softly, almost to herself. She flinched when the door slammed shut behind him, and looked up to find that Deen was watching her closely.
“I think you need something stronger than sugar water,” he said. “I’ll go fix you a strong tea, miss. I mean, Your Majesty –”
“Please, call me Alizeh,” she said, tensing to keep her teeth from rattling. “And tea sounds wonderful. Thank you.”
Then, with another nod, Deen was gone, too.
Huda sat beside her, took her hand, and squeezed it. “How are you feeling?”
“Foolish.” Alizeh suppressed a sigh as she removed her circlet, then her veil, setting them both on the bench beside her. She dropped her head in her unsteady hands. “Hazan is mad at me. Hazan is never mad at me.”
“He was scared. Imagine, he’d gotten word that you were finally awake, rushed over here to see you – only to find that someone was trying to kill you. You nearly died, dear. Again.” Huda clucked her tongue. “His poor nerves. Your poor nerves.”
Alizeh looked up. “It was all for nothing,” she said. “I didn’t even say anything. I had nothing to say.”
“I wouldn’t say it was entirely fruitless,” Huda countered gently. “At least they saw you make the effort. Certainly no one can blame you for what happened – they’ll understand if you’re not rushing to stand before a crowd again.” She tilted her head. “Perhaps going forward we can communicate any messages via Dija.”
“Who’s Dija?”
“She’s sort of a leader of the masses. She and a few others help keep the crowd in order.
Cyrus has spoken with her several times, as far as I’m aware.”
At the sound of his name, Alizeh averted her eyes. “I’ve made a decision, Huda. I know it might not be a popular decision, but –”
The door whined opened then, and Huda, who’d opened her mouth to speak, suddenly shot upright.
Hazan had returned.
“Yes, I’ll, um, speaking of Dija, I’ll just pop down to see her, shall I? Best to get a feel for what’s happening outside.”
“You’re going into the crowd?” Alizeh said, alarmed. “But – isn’t it dangerous?” “Oh, not for me! No one cares who I am!” she said, and rushed off.
The door slammed shut for the fourth time, and once again, Alizeh flinched. She and Hazan were alone.
He stood just off to the side, one hand pushed through his hair as he stared blankly at the wall. The sounds of the crowd still carried in the distance.
“Hazan,” she said softly. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Do you think you’ll be mad at me for a very long time?” She heard him sigh.
“I’m not mad at you,” he said, his voice hard. “I’m mad that someone tried to kill you. I simply don’t understand why you’d put yourself in so dangerous a position –”
“Please,” she said desperately. “Please understand, I had to speak with them. Not only because it was my duty to try, but because I needed to learn that I never, ever, want to be in that position again.”
Hazan turned to face her. “What do you mean?”
“The next time I stand before my people,” she said, “it will be with a crown and a plan.
I can have nothing to say to them until I secure both. I need to find my magic, Hazan – I need to go to Arya at once –”
“We’ll go,” he said, moving briskly toward her. “We’ll return to Ardunia tomorrow, if you like. Say the word and we’ll go.”
“I wish it were that easy,” she said, attempting a smile. “It’s going to be a long, difficult journey –”
“Not if we travel by dragon.”
“– and I need to get my book back from Cyrus. He’s refused to give it to me.” Hazan shook his head. “I’ll kill him.”
Alizeh laughed, her heart warming with affection. “You can’t kill him. I need him.”
Hazan stood before her, tall and looming. “All due respect, Your Majesty, you don’t need him. You have me.”
She looked up into his eyes and smiled. “If only you had an empire.” Hazan sighed heavily, then turned away. “If only.”
She reached for his hand, meaning to clasp it in friendship, and he recoiled. She realized then that he’d recoiled before when she’d touched him, and withdrew her hands immediately.
“Forgive me,” she said, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” “I’m not uncomfortable,” he said, though his voice was rough. “It’s only that I’m not
used to being touched.”
She looked up, but he would not meet her eyes. “Hazan,” she said softly. “Will you look at me?”
She watched him swallow, watched him hesitate before dropping slowly to one knee
before her. He lifted his head and their eyes locked. He seemed to drink in the sight of her, fear and affection at war in his gaze.
“Hazan,” she said again. “I’m worried you’re not sleeping well.”
This disarmed him so completely he almost laughed, the intensity in his eyes melting into something gentler. His chest caved as he exhaled, and he lowered his head once more. “I will try to do better, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you,” she said softly. “For saving my life.”
“You need not thank me,” he said, “for the actions I perform in my own self-interest.” She laughed, and they shared an easy, fleeting moment of silence.
“I feel you should know,” she said, her voice quieting to a whisper. “That I’ve made my decision.”
He looked up sharply.
“I’m going to say yes. To his proposal.” Alizeh clasped her hands in her lap. “I’m going to marry Cyrus.”
Hazan seemed to stop breathing.
“I know you were against the idea – and I know he’s not trustworthy – but I hope you can understand why, especially after today –”
The door slammed open without warning, and they both spun toward the sound. Alizeh fought back a gasp.
Kamran had arrived.
