A small pit hardens in my belly. Not that I’d expected Notus to remain until morning, but I had hoped he might leave some small token of remembrance, proof that he thought of me as I thought of him.
By the time I reach the throne room, I am in a foul mood. Fahim and Amir have already arrived, the latter dozing in his seat, the former appearing unusually troubled.
“All right?” I whisper to Fahim as I settle into my chair.
He shrugs without looking at me. “Just another day.”
I mean to ask him about our conversation last night, but Father arrives before I get the chance. We spend the morning in meetings, then break for lunch. I use the opportunity to seek out Notus. He is not at the labyrinth. Neither is he in his chambers. Disappointed, I return to my quarters alone.
I’ve barely shut the door when there is a knock. Notus pushes into the room, hands grasping the front of my dress, the hot press of his mouth marking my neck and jaw as he kicks the door shut behind him. In the next breath, he lifts my skirts, hefts my legs around his waist, and enters me in one hard thrust.
I cry out, teeth clamping his shoulder as he drives into me. It is not soft, his loving, but I am not easily broken. The slap of our skin cuts through the stillness, my gasps muffled against his shoulder as he pounds into me with a desperation akin to my own.
And when it is done, his seed trickling down my leg, Notus takes me into his arms, holds me closer than I ever thought possible. “Meet me at the south palace gate,” he pants. “Just after midnight.”
Leaning back, I search his eyes. They hold a fear I do not understand. “Notus—”
“Don’t be late.”
I’ve barely righted my dress before he is out the door.
I press the back of my hand to my mouth. My lips throb. Whatever doubt his strange behavior has unearthed, I will not allow it to soil what just occurred. I pass the time practicing until the bell tolls the midnight hour, then don a cloak. Shadows shield me from the guards completing their rounds. The gate lies ahead. I sprint the remaining distance.
It’s deserted.
An icy wind cuts through me. The stars mark the first hour of morning. Peering into the silhouetted courtyard, I search for Notus. Did I mistake the time we were supposed to meet?Just after midnight, he’d said.Don’t be late.
The hours pass. The moon emerges white and full to brand herself against the sky’s thin black skin. Pacing before the gate, I comb the gloom, the obscured alcoves, the doorways of the palace. The bell tolls the fifth hour of morning. My nerves begin to fray, for I fear something terrible has befallen Notus. Later, the bell tolls again, dawn bleeding color onto blank canvas. Still, I wait. And I wait. But the South Wind does not come.
Two weeks have passed since the South Wind’s abrupt departure. Father informed me that Notus left Ishmah before the sun, on a horse pilfered from the stables. When I demanded answers, the king had none to give. Notus had, after all, failed to slay the beast imprisoned in the labyrinth, though that should not have mattered.There is nothing to keep him here, Father said. He could not have known how that wounded me.
I fled to my chambers and locked the door. I raged. I wept. I screamed for the South Wind. Then I screamed for justice, for blood. In the days that followed, silence was my only companion.
Now I stand at my bedroom window, wondering what I did wrong.
“Don’t fret, my dear,” Roshar murmurs from behind me. When he attempts to pull me into his embrace, I step out of reach, unable to bear his touch.
His expression wavers, then folds into disappointment, though he tries his best to remain upbeat, plucking at the voluminous pleats of his scarlet robes. “Sweet?” he asks, offering me a plate of confections.
“I’m not hungry.” No, I am vastly empty these days.
“Sarai—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
He sets down the plate. “Very well.” Low and somber. “Shall I go?”
I don’t know. I’m paralyzed, a leaf spinning in the wind, with no knowledge of where I might land, or how.
When I do not respond, Roshar says, “What of Fahim? Perhaps he might comfort you?”
My frown deepens. Fahim did not come down to breakfast this morning. In fact, he has avoided me most days. I’ve failed to notice, so burdened by my grief of Notus’ unexplained disappearance… but perhaps he knows something I do not.
I climb the stairs to Fahim’s room, push open the door, his name dying on my lips. There he swings, noose around his neck, back and forth and back and forth.
“Please play for me, Sarai.”
Slouched in my chair, violin resting untouched on my lap, I peer out the music room window, open to the temperate breeze. In the distance, rare clouds blacken the horizon. I find myself doing that a lot these days—searching for what lies beyond. Always, my gaze seeks the south palace gates, as if I might spot a dark figure on horseback galloping through.
