ALIZEH STARED, STUNNED, AT THE figure bowing before her.
“Forgive me,” the stranger said quietly. “I only meant to keep close to you tonight should you need assistance—which, clearly, you did not.” Even in shadow, she saw a flash of his smile. “My firefly, however, is quite taken with you and insists on seeking your attention whenever the opportunity arises.”
“It is your firefly, then?”
The stranger nodded. “Normally she’s more obedient, but when she sees you she seems to forget me entirely, and has been accosting you against my wishes these last two days. She first disobeyed me the night you met her at Baz House—she’d darted through the kitchen door even as I expressly forbid it. I apologize for any frustration her impulsiveness has caused.”
Alizeh blinked at him, bewildered. “Who are you? How do you know me? How did you know I might need help tonight?”
The stranger smiled broadly at that, a gleam of white in the dark. He then held out a gloved hand, within which was a small glass orb the size of a marble. “First,” he said. “This is for you.”
Alizeh went suddenly still.
She’d recognized the object at once; it was called a nosta, an old Tulanian word for trust. To say that they were rare was a gross understatement of the truth. Alizeh had not seen one since she was a child; she thought they’d been all but lost to time.
Carefully, Alizeh took the small object into her hand.
In all of history, only several nostas had ever been made, for their creation required an ancient magic of which only the Diviners were capable. Alizeh’s parents had often told her that the magic in Tulan was
different—stronger—than it was in Ardunia, for the southern empire, while small, had a more potent concentration of the mineral in its mountains, and a far greater population of Diviners, as a result. Many Jinn had fled to Tulan in the early Clay wars for precisely this reason; there was something about the mountains there that called to them, imbued them with power.
Or so Alizeh had heard.
The few nostas that ever existed in Ardunia were widely believed to have been stolen from Tulan; a few small mementos of many failed wars.
How this stranger had gotten his hands on something so precious, Alizeh could not even begin to imagine.
She looked down at him in astonishment. “This is for me?”
“Please consider it a token of my loyalty, Your Highness. Keep it with you always, so that you never need wonder who your enemies might be.”
Alizeh felt her eyes prick with unexpected emotion. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I hardly know what to say.”
“Then I would be so bold as to ask for your forgiveness. You have suffered all these years alone, never knowing how many of us quietly searched for you. We are so grateful to have found you now.”
“We?”
“Yes. We.” Another flash of a smile, though this one was somber. “Your presence was only recently made known to me, Your Majesty, and I have been waiting every day for the right moment to approach you. In the interim, I’ve been tracking your movements so that I might offer protection if you should need it.”
As he spoke, the nosta glowed warm in her hand. She knew that if he lied even a little, the orb would turn to ice. Alizeh’s mind spun so fast she could scarcely draw breath.
“You may rise,” she whispered.
He did, unfolding slowly to reveal a body much broader than she first suspected.
“Step into the light,” she said.
He moved into the glow of a nearby gaslight, the flames setting fire to his pale hair and eyes. He was well dressed and groomed; his clothes were cut from fine cloth, his camel hair overcoat tailored to perfection. Were it not for the nosta, she did not think she’d believe this young man was fighting for her cause. He looked too well fed.
She struggled now to know what to make of him.
Still, the longer she stared, the more she saw. He was handsome in an unexpected way, his face composed of many small imperfections that added up to something interesting.
Strong.
Strange, but his features reminded her slightly of Omid—the dusky color of his skin, the generous smattering of freckles across his face. It was only his pale hair that kept him from looking like a native of the south.
Alizeh took a deep, steadying breath.
“You likely do not remember my mother,” the young man said quietly, “but she was a courtier. This was after the establishment of the Fire Accords, when Jinn were finally allowed to join the court freely; but she had been by that time so used to hiding who she was that she continued to keep her identity a secret.”
Alizeh’s mind began to turn. As the nosta warmed in her hand, she realized there was something about this story that sounded familiar.
“On one of her many evenings at court,” he went on, “my mother overheard the late queen speaking about the prophecy, and she knew then th
—”
“A prophecy?” Alizeh frowned, cutting him off. “A prophecy about me, you mean?”
The young man went suddenly still. For a long moment he said nothing. “Sir?” Alizeh prompted.
“You must accept my many apologies, Your Highness.” He sounded a bit worried now. “I did not realize you were unaware.”
Now Alizeh’s heart was pounding. “Unaware of what?”
“I fear I must again beg your forgiveness, for this story is a rather long one, and there is not enough time tonight to tell it. Once the matters of your safety are settled, I promise to explain everything in greater detail. But tonight I cannot be away for too long, or I will be missed.”
Again, the nosta burned hot. “I see,” Alizeh breathed.
A prophecy. Had her parents known? Was this the real reason why she’d been hidden away? Why all who knew her had been murdered?
The young man went on: “Allow me to say now only that my mother was once, long ago, acquainted with your parents. She acted as their eyes from inside the palace walls, and would visit your home often, always with
the updates she was able to glean from the court. Occasionally, she took me along. I cannot imagine you remember me, Your Majesty—”
“No,” she whispered, disbelief coloring her voice. “Can it be true? Is it possible you once taught me to play jacks?”
In response, the smiling young man reached into his pocket, and presented her with a single hazelnut.
A sudden, painful emotion seized her body then; a relief so large she could hardly fathom its dimensions.
She thought she might cry.
“I have been waiting close to the crown, as my mother once did, for any news of your discovery. When I learned of your existence I began at once to make arrangements for your safe transfer. I take it you’ve received your invitation to the ball tomorrow night?”
Alizeh was still stunned, for a moment, into silence. “The ball?” she said finally. “Did you— Was that—?”
The stranger shook his head. “The original thought belonged to the child. I saw an opportunity and assisted. The context will help us.”
“I fear I’ve been rendered speechless,” she said softly. “I can only thank you, sir. I struggle now to think of anything else to say.”
And in a gesture of goodwill, she removed her snoda.
The young man started, stepped back. He stared at her with wide eyes, with something like apprehension. She watched him struggle to look at her without appearing to look at all, and the realization almost made her laugh.
She realized, too late, that she’d put him in an awkward position.
Doubtless he thought she expected a review.
“I know my eyes make me hard to look at,” said Alizeh gently. “It’s the ice that does it, though I don’t entirely understand why. I believe my eyes are in fact brown, but I experience with some frequency a sharp pain in my head, a feeling like a sudden frost. It’s the onslaught of cold, I think, that kills their natural color. It’s the only explanation I have for their flickering state. I hope you will be able to overlook my strangeness.”
He studied her then as if he were trying to sear her image into his memory—and then looked sharply away, at the ground. “You do not look strange, Your Majesty.”
The nosta glowed warm.
Alizeh smiled, restored her snoda. “You say you are making arrangements for my safe transfer—what does that mean? Where do you
mean to take me?”
“I’m afraid I cannot say. It is better, for now, that you know as little as possible, in the case that our plans go awry and you are apprehended.”
Again, the nosta glowed warm. “Then how will I know to find you?”
“You will not. It is imperative that you arrive at the ball tomorrow night.
Will you require assistance in accomplishing this?” “No. I think not.”
“Very good. My firefly will seek you out when the moment is right. You may count on her to lead the way. Forgive me, Your Majesty.” He bowed. “It grows later by the minute, and I must now be gone. Already I have said too much.”
He turned to leave.
“Wait,” she said softly, grabbing his arm. “Will you not at least tell me your name?”
He stared at her bandaged hand on his arm for a beat too long, and when he looked up, he said, “I am Hazan, Your Majesty. You may depend on me with your life.”
