I restrain myself from clobbering him on the head. He may as well shout that I am Princess of Ammara for all to hear. When I glance at the storyteller, I find her smiling.
“Outside,” I growl. “Now.”
Notus allows himself to be herded back onto the street, though I am not so naive as to believe I am physically capable of maneuvering him. As we begin our return trek to the palace, a brassy clang tears across the city. The warning bell. Three tolls signal an approaching sandstorm. Five tolls warn of darkwalkers.
Two, three…The ringing stops.
It is impressive how swiftly the streets empty. In moments, Notus and I are the only ones left standing in the alley. He looks to me. I look to him. “We should get back,” he says.
Clearly. A few strategically selected shortcuts through the souk deposit us onto the King’s Road. The wind rises. Its scalding gusts blast through the streets, groping at my dress and tearing at the hood of my cloak. Soon, the palace gates are in sight.
Of course, Notus continues to shadow me. I turn to glower at him. “Isn’t the bell your cue to help secure the city?”
He meets my gaze squarely. “I will once you’re safe inside the palace. King Halim doesn’t want anything to befall you, after what happened to your brother.” They are too quiet, these words. “My condolences—”
I stiffen. “That is why you returned? So you could apologize for something that has nothing to do with you?” I feel the barrier rise, brick by crumbling brick. “Fahim died five years ago.”
You were not here, I think. The words choke me. I dare not utter them.
The South Wind stares at the ground as though his life depends on it. “I wasn’t aware. It saddened me to learn of his passing,” he says lowly. “I enjoyed your brother’s company, for however short a time I knew him.”
Another thing I have tried to forget: the image of Notus and Fahim sparring, bare torsos pouring sweat. My brother had been an excellent swordsman, but the South Wind was something else entirely. Sometimes, I suspected Notus let him win.
“It is cruel that a hunting accident took him so young. I’m truly sorry for your loss.”
A hunting accident. That was the explanation King Halim gave to inform Ammara’s population of Fahim’s death. But nothing could be farther from the truth.
“Your brother,” Notus continues, “was a good man.”
He is mistaken. Fahim was not just agoodman. He was the best.
“Why did you come back?” My voice quavers, and I fear it will fracture into a thousand pieces if I allow it. I vowed never to reveal such weakness, yet I am burdened by the echo of my past, its wretched refusal to die.
Something shifts behind Notus’ eyes. It frightens me, tears open this unhealed wound within me, and once more, I am bleeding out unseen.
Hurriedly, I turn away, breath short, chest tight. Whatever emotion he has expressed, I do not care to acknowledge it.
“Sarai—”
“Never mind. It doesn’t matter anyway.” My heart stutters with the uncontrollable urge to flee. “Tell the king what you will. It will only reinforce what I already know: that you are little more than a mindless dog, lacking any thought or willpower of your own.”
When I enter through the palace gates, the South Wind does not follow.
5
“ANNOUNCINGPRINCESSSARAIAL-KHATIB.”
The double doors to the dining room open simultaneously, revealing a long table laden with silverware, which sparks stars in the low candlelight. King Halim and Prince Balior have already arrived, the latter rising to his feet upon my entrance. The prince has donned a pale gray robe intricately threaded at the collar, and a matching headscarf. Father dictated that I wear red: the national color of Um Salim. Thus, I am draped in cloth of rich scarlet, heavy as clotted blood.
“Princess Sarai.” The prince bows low, a lock of mahogany hair falling across his brow.
I dip my chin in greeting. “Prince Balior.”
Father’s disapproving glare cuts toward me.Do not disappoint me,it warns. Inwardly, I sigh. “Thank you for joining us this evening,” I manage to say. “I hope the food will be to your liking.”
“I’m certain it will be.” Catching my eye, he smiles tentatively. “Though I admit I’m more eager for the company than the meal.”
My smile sours before it has the chance to form. “Then I hope I will not disappoint.” Despite my attempt at pleasantries, my irksome encounter with Notus this morning has refused to loosen its grip on me. Even now, my blood continues its prolonged simmer.
