“There is no reason to believe they’re here for you,” Arwa said sharply.
“They could be,” Eshara said. “We heard tales in the last caravanserai. Too much interest in Zahir’s fate was bound to draw the Emperor’s attention eventually.”
“Regardless,” said Arwa, “we’re not leaving you, Zahir. And you’re not leaving us.”Me.She took his wrist. Held tight. “You stay,” she said. “Promise it.”
Zahir met her eyes. His own gaze was startled, expression strangely raw. He nodded. She could feel his pulse against her palm.
“I promise,” he said.
Eshara was looking at them both.
“Well,” she said. “I suppose we wait.”
The three of them sat and waited, as the sun rose in the sky. They waited to see if anyone would come for Zahir.
No one did.
If the soldiers were looking for him, they were doing a poor job of seeking him out. Instead they seemed content with keeping the pilgrims penned up and wound tight with fear. Sometimes they heard shouts from outside. Then silence. Eventually Eshara rose to her feet. She tucked a dagger into the sash of her tunic, and drew on a robe, to conceal it. When Zahir rose to his feet too, Eshara shook her head.
“No, you’re staying here.”
“Eshara—”
“Zahir,” Arwa cut in. He went silent. Looked at her.
She said no more. She didn’t need to. Her face said enough. His mouth thinned, and he sat.
“I’ll be back soon,” said Eshara. And she strode off.
She returned an hour later, no worse for wear.
“They’ve taken some of the traders,” she said. “The ones selling talismans and relics. The ones who claim to be visionaries.”
“I thought they were here in search of bandits,” said Arwa.
Eshara smiled thinly.
“I expect the bandits are just an excuse. It’s the heretics they’re after.”
“Parviz hates his heresy, true enough,” Zahir said quietly. “And yet, I hoped the Hidden Ones would succeed. I hoped the disquiet surrounding his rise to the throne would—delay him.”
“That was optimistic of you,” said Eshara. She sounded bitter. “He is still the Emperor. He still has more power than any of us.”
Zahir said nothing to that.
“We can’t remain here hiding,” Arwa said, filling his silence.
“No,” Zahir said then. “I don’t think we can. But what do you think we should do, Arwa?”
“Why do you assume I have a plan?”
The partition curtains wavered around them as a child ran between them.
“You were gone a long time yesterday,” Zahir said.
So he hadn’t accepted her excuses at face value after all. Or perhaps a night’s rest had sharpened his mind. Arwa gave him a look, which he returned unblinking, something fierce in the furrow of his brow.
“Your secrets are your own, Arwa,” he said. “But if you know something that may help…”
