At Sohrab’s elbow, Yasaman drops to her knees with a scowl and Yahya clumsily follows.
Arezu sneers at their backs. ‘You fools concede so easily.’ Her jade eyes flick to me, cold. ‘My proposition is simple. We help you, and in return, you train us, for a reduced time.’
I glance at No-Name, who shares my scepticism. But the students’ watchful gazes make my guilt well like blood on a shallow cut. So I announce: ‘Half of the hour.’
‘And if we want more, will you refuse to train us?’ demands Arezu.
If I admit that, it will make me awful. ‘Yes.’
Sohrab speaks in Arezu’s ear and she suggests, ‘Fifty minutes.’
‘Thirty minutes.’
More whispering. ‘Forty-five.’
My mouth curves. ‘Thirty.’
‘Thirty-five.’
‘A generous thirty-five it is, you pigs,’ I hiss. But I do need them. And yes, I admit I miss them, the feeling so foreign.
‘You must awake long, long before dawn. Drink your water at night to dampen your sleep. With your bladder on the cusp of exploding, you will shoot to the latrines, wide awake.’ I shrug. ‘The warrior monks do this.’
But our training is short-lived. In the week before the Duxzam, they change their minds. As I await them, I watch Yahya cling to Arezu’s back while she scrambles up the hill. The breeze teases me shyly, the early morning encased in a light smoke leaking from the central capital.
Yahya’s laugh carries through the air, forcing its way into the mess of my heart. If I could steal a laugh, it’d be his; I yearn to hear it every day, the happy abandon of a child even in a place of cruelty.
When the students reach me, he pauses mid grin. He climbs offArezu before wrapping his fingers around my middle finger. ‘Master is unwell.’
My arm recoils. ‘What?’
‘Yahya is right,’ Sohrab cuts in. ‘You look awful.’
‘I will pray for your offended sight later.’
Suddenly Yahya raises both his hands. ‘No training.’
The students exchange looks, lowering their blades.
I glance between them. ‘Have jinn possessed my students?’
With her khanjar, Arezu slices her forearm until red weeps down her light brown skin. ‘I’m injured. I must head to the medic.’
I drop to my knees. ‘Do not hurt yourself! Why would you do that?’
‘If self-infliction helps...’ She shrugs. ‘You hypocrite. I’ve seen you use this tactic.’
‘What?’ I stare in horror.Arezu used pain to prove a point. Iam supposed to do that. Not her.
Yahya gazes at the wound, almost curiously. The heat escapes my body. I want them to be nothing like me, left with blood and disappointment. But as my eyes linger on the crimson claiming its mark on her, I’m afraid it’s too late.
Squaring my shoulders, I yank the blade from her grasp. ‘I didn’t teach you to abuse blades in such a manner.’
‘You would not understand.’ She looks away. ‘We will see you after we break our fasts. And youwilleat. Or I will report this to your overseer.’
Arezu yanks Yahya away, the others following, but the breeze carries his words. ‘Master look sad.’
Arezu must have spoken to my overseer, because when Yabghu returns from his military assignment on the Camel Road, he finds me before trifecta training, curious, using his khanjar to pick at his teeth. His scent of white clover attar is almost comforting.
