“We talked about this, Papa. You know I can’t.” Fanning my cheeks, I frown at him. “Why do you sound afraid?”
“Iamafraid,” he says. “Kaldari is a pit full of vipers.”
“As is nearly every large city. But we’re talking about the palace, the place with a million guards,” I say, and force a smile for his benefit.
“Kaldari is not what you think it is,” he says after a long, fraught beat.
“You speak as if you know it.”
He sighs at my sharp stare. “Your mother and I lived there for a time when you were a baby.”
I gape at him. “You never told me that!”
“You were just two when we left.” He rakes a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. His voice drops even lower. “I had hoped it would be a part of our past, but things have a way of coming back to haunt you when you least expect it. And now with this summons...” He releases a measured breath, one that doesn’t help relieve the renewed knots of tension in my belly. “But perhaps I’m overreacting.”
Overreacting or not, my mind is whirling at this information. People in Kaldari lack for nothing. Why would my parents choose to comehereto this desolate desert town in the middle of nowhere when they had once lived in the jewel of the kingdom?
“Why did you leave?” I ask.
“That’s a story for another time. Perhaps when you return.” He peers down at me, taking my sweaty hands in his, callused thumbs brushing across my skin. “Maybe I can decline the invitation, on account that you are already betrothed. Cyrill will—”
“Don’t even think it,” I grind out in horrified haste, and step out of his reach as if he’ll act on those words. “Papa, I will be fine. I’ll be back before you can even miss me, I promise.”
It’ll take a miracle for me to make any sort of impression with all the other prospects, and while the thought of spending an evening or two feasting and exploring the palace is an exciting one, flirting with Prince Javed is not. If I stick to the plan of being inconspicuous, I will be fine. Safe and fine.
The crowd shifts, and my eyes hitch on a haggard old woman. My heart immediately begins to pound, my palms hot against my sides. But the next moment, she turns to speak to her companion with a grin, and I see she looks nothing like the crone from the alley. I sagin relief, but my heart is still racing, and I feel as though sand beetles are hatching and crawling around in my stomach.
Something isn’t right...
A strange haze fills my vision, similar to the shimmery bands of heat that rise above the desert sand on a scorching hot day. I look at my clammy palms, at the sheen of sweat dampening them. Two luminous Ms stand out against my skin, and I inhale sharply, recalling the crone’s skeletal finger tracing the same pattern.
My father turns, touching my shoulder, and as suddenly as it had arisen, the hallucination is gone.
The crone is a bumbling old fool.I fist my fingers and fasten them to my sides.
Tingles cross my palms, and I rub them against the soft fabric of my trousers.
“Papa, what do you know of the old gods?”
His gaze sharpens. “Why do you ask?”
“Just something Cyrill said.”
“Cyrill is too free with his opinions.”
“He said that the prince—”
“There it is!” someone shrieks, and a crash of applause erupts from the waiting crowd, cutting me off. A sparking sphere forms at the center of the square, small at first and then increasing in size to accommodate a full-grown man. The glimmering oval looks like a pool of vertical water, and I can’t help but notice that the iridescent colors of the portal match the hues of the finished dagger tucked into the sheath at my thigh.
Jadu.
I probably shouldn’t be taking an illegal blade to the capital city, but leaving it behind is risky. My father can’t be caught with it, and the truth is I didn’t want to part with it. The dagger had turned out perfect—small, sharp, and lethal. I’d carefully peened the tang intothe pommel carved in the shape of a proud, elegant simurgh. And though it was a touch whimsical, I’d etched a starburst at the base of the fuller, along with a symbol of the moon for my mother. For luck.
No forbidden, elemental runes that could land me in hot water with the crown.
My spine snaps straight as a royal guard appears. The curved scimitar at his hip is carved with the symbol for fire. It’s lovely work, but not as precise as mine. Though it isn’t like anyone from Kaldari would be armed withmyblades. Vasha is only conscripted for the soldiers in the outlying cities.
A contingent of a dozen armed men follow the first, and I frown. That seems excessive to escort three women to the capital. “Why are there so many guards?” I whisper to my father.
