Don’t do it.But I have rarely taken my own advice. “Then what did you feel?”
He shifts his weight, taps the hilt of his blade. If vulnerability was difficult for me, it was far more difficult for the South Wind, a god who rarely spoke of his past, or his feelings.
“I valued what we had,” he says. “It felt like we were building something that belonged only to us.”
Felt. A word fixed firmly in the past.
But what of his recent confession to me?There is only one person I desire in this life, and that is you.One cannot return to their old life. I understand that. Too much has changed.Ihave changed.
Yet in this moment, I allow my armor to fall. Piece by piece, it surrenders itself. Notus can’t know what it was like when he left, but Ilet him see. Daily, I stood at my window and looked upon the whole of Ishmah, hoping for a glimpse of the South Wind. I had never felt so obsessed, so alone, and so weak.
I shrug, my smile pained. “Pointless regrets.” But as I attempt to brush past him, Notus catches my arm.
Ifeelthe air change between us. Its subtle spike hardens my nipples. Immediately, I yank free of his hold, clamping my arms over my chest.
He glances at my chest. If I’m not mistaken, his eyes have darkened. “You regret not accompanying me?” he murmurs lowly.
The truth emerges whether I wish it to or not. “I regret many things, Notus, including not accompanying you that day.”
But we’re here now, in Mirash, together. Perhaps we can make the most of it.
An hour of wandering leads us to the ceramic district, with its glossy earthenware and clay-hardened pots. The stalls are tucked uncomfortably close, cluttered with cups glazed in rainbow hues of citrine, ruby, turquoise, aquamarine. As we continue beyond its borders, the city gradually deteriorates. Young families squat in murky corners, some having taken up residence in piles of rubble, those few structures that still possess standing walls. It hurts my heart. So many without homes or food or clean clothes. Were the rains to return, it would heal much of what is broken.
“What exactly do you know of this lead anyway?” I ask Notus as we round a corner. Every so often I’m certain I feel his hand on my lower back, a pale touch of reassurance. I’m likely only imagining it.
“Amad is a jeweler, well-known throughout the region. He is trustworthy.”
“How can you be certain?”
We turn down a deserted street and stop in front of a nondescript building with a sagging roof. “One’s reputation is built on their word. Leading me astray would risk more than my wrath. It would risk his entire livelihood.” He jerks his chin in indication for me to follow.
Notus enters the shop first. The morning is bright, yet shutters cloak the windows, the air uncomfortably stagnant. Shelves along the wallscradle teardrop emeralds, moon-pale quartz. A single candle burns atop a nearby table, sputtering in a pool of hot wax.
The man at the counter regards us with the wariness of one who cannot afford to lower his guard. Two knives hang from his beltloops. A knotted scar blots the skin of one sun-darkened cheek.
“Meetings are by appointment only,” he says, polishing a small oval of turquoise. “You will have to come back at another time.”
Notus pulls back his hood, murmuring, “Amad.”
The jeweler grunts in acknowledgment. When I remove my hood, however, he straightens in surprise. “Your Highness.”
I incline my head in greeting.
Immediately, he bends at the waist. “I apologize. I wasn’t aware you would be joining us.” Hurriedly, he rounds the counter and locks the door.
“I trust that you’ve kept this arrangement to yourself?” Notus says as the jeweler, Amad, returns to the counter.
“Of course.” This paired with a sincere smile, but if I’m not mistaken, tension lingers around his eyes. He is uncomfortable. It does not escape my notice.
Leaning over the counter, I ask, “Notus says you have information about the labyrinth. How did you come by it?” No matter this man’s reputation,Idon’t personally know him. He must first prove himself trustworthy.
Amad casually eases back. He holds my gaze with confidence—a good sign. “I’ve a client who possesses a significant number of rare and obscure texts.” He sets aside the turquoise, selects a yellow gemstone the size of my thumbnail. “We made a trade, he and I. When Notus reached out asking if I knew anything regarding the beast in the labyrinth, I happened to have this scroll in my possession.”
My eyes narrow. I sense the South Wind’s skepticism as well. “You justhappenedto have the scroll in your possession?” I say. “Sounds awfully convenient to me.”
“Agreed,” says Notus.
We stand shoulder to shoulder. Princess Sarai Al-Khatib, and one of the divine? The jeweler must realize what he’s up against, for he drops his eyes.
