I carefully inspect the dagger, prepping it for the final round of shaping and polishing before dampening the coals in the forge and putting away my hammer and tools. I scrub the grit and jadu stains from my fingers in the nearby bucket, wipe down my neck and armpits, and switch my overalls to a plain black skirt and blouse. I finger-comb the unruly waves that have escaped their ties and rebraid them before Laleh and I brave the sweltering heat to cross the alley to the inn’s back entrance.
As we enter the kitchens, the warm, buttery smell of baking bread makes my stomach rumble, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since breakfast hours ago. The galley is a whirlwind of activity, the sounds of clanging pots merging with chattering voices while the undercooks take direction from the head cook—a small, round dumpling of a woman who also happens to be my aunt—my mother’s twin sister. Despite our differences in size, the resemblance between us is striking. We both have the same large gray eyes, pronounced cheekbones, and wild, ink-dark curls.
Catching her eye, I wave. She hurries over to enfold both Laleh and me into a hug, pressing us into the ample folds of her chest. She smells of warm spices and sunshine... of everything that reminds me of home.
“Morning, Amma,” we chorus when she lets us go.
“Did you hear?” Laleh whispers before I can stop her. “The king has invited our Suraya to the palace to be presented as a potential bride for the prince!”
Amma’s eyes widen as I glare at my bigmouthed best friend. So much for keeping anything quiet for more than two sandsdamned minutes.
“Is that so?” Amma replies, and I’m startled by the fretful, dark expression that crosses her face. “A bride, you say?”
“Hardly. I’m not going to be married, Amma,” I say, scowling at a less-than-contrite Laleh, who I know is happy for me, but still, Iwould have liked to ease into letting the world know my private business that I have yet to come to terms with. No doubt the news is already spreading like wildfire among the eavesdropping kitchen staff. A whisper turns into a roar anywhere in this tavern. “IfI go, it’ll only be for the adventure of visiting Kaldari and a chance to see the palace. No one will notice me.”
Amma shoots me a teasing grin, but it seems strained. “Maybe if you didn’t look like a chimney sweep, that would be different.” She plucks a flake of ash from my hair as I squirm out of her grasp. “Now, eat, eat,” she tells us, pushing two plates in front of us. “Put some meat on those bones. Strong minds require strong bodies.”
She bustles away, and needing little encouragement, Laleh and I wolf down the flaky layers of flatbread and the spicy chickpeas with potatoes. My tongue burns in a good way as the flavorful mash hits my taste buds. Amma is the best cook in all of Coban. I bet not even the palace cooks in Kaldari can hold a candle to her. Laleh and I are silent as we eat until we are stuffed. I grin as my best friend pats her stomach in satisfaction.
“I thought you had to leave.”
She winks. “A girl has to eat.”
“You’re only here because you get fed,” I tease. “Admit it.”
“Guilty as charged.” She licks her lips and sighs. “That woman is worth her weight in jadu. Uncle Hassan needs to lock that down before someone steals her away.”
At the mention of my father, I push to my feet. Laleh’s not wrong. I’ve always wondered why Amma never married him after my mother passed over a decade ago, since it’s clear that there’s a deep connection between them. But they both seem to be content with the way things are—she as cook and he as inn owner. As long as she’s a part of our lives, I’m happy.
I scan the busy kitchen and spy Amma in a hushed conversation with my father, whose weathered face has gone tight. She’s gesticulating with her hands, a clear sign she’s upset about something, and with every expressive swish accompanying her frantic words, his spine is snapping straighter and straighter.
What are they saying?
I wave a quick goodbye to Laleh, nearly shooing her out the door in my haste to eavesdrop. I know listening to a private conversation is wrong, but if it’s about me or what had made Amma look so alarmed before, then I want to know. I sneak closer until my father’s low baritone reaches me.
“She cannot go.”
They’re definitely talking about me.
“It’s been nearly twenty-five years. This could be nothing but coincidence.” My ears prick up. Coincidence for what? He scrubs a hand across his beard and releases a growl of frustration through his teeth. “You don’t think she knows, do you?”
Does he meanmeor someone else? Clearly, I’ve been kept in the dark about something monumental, and curiosity swamps me. I frown and strain to catch Amma’s answer. “No. My sister’s protections are still strong. She died to make it so. We have to keep her safe, Hassan.”
A dark chill slithers over the knobs of my spine. My mother died from a wasting illness. But the way Amma is speaking makes it sounds different... like her death had been purposeful. To protectme. Questions spawn in my brain like sandworm slugs. How could anyone protect someone by dying? Her words don’t make any sense.
A distraught Amma leans forward to embrace my father, and heart pounding, I sidle back to where Laleh and I had been sitting. When Amma returns, I open my mouth to ask about their conversation, but the flat look in her eyes stops me in my tracks. I’ve never seen my sweet, gentle, smiling Amma look so grim. Why would she look as though the world was ending?
“Amma?” I venture. “Is everything well?”
“Yes, child,” she replies quietly, but I know she doesn’t believe it.Her words lack the bright, unfailing conviction I’m used to from her. I want to push, to ask about what I’ve overheard, about my mother especially, but something stops me. The residual fear in her eyes, maybe.
Wisely, I change my mind and head into the tavern, but I remain ill at ease.
Obviously, they don’t want me to go to Kaldari, but why? Apart from the fact that I’ve been plucked from obscurity to be part of the prince’s stomach-turning bridal buffet—gag—it’s not like I’ll be alone. Two other local girls whom I’ve known since birth will be going. There’s strength in numbers, right? And arranged marriages are common in Oryndhr, so there’s nothing unconventional about this hunt for a bride, really. Marriages are treated more as transactions than love matches. In fact, the latter, like that of my parents, is rare.
Not that I actuallywantto be one of the prince’s candidates.
But if the silver lining is a free trip to the palace in a style and comfort that I could never in a million years afford, Laleh does have an excellent point about my going. Not to mention I might also get the chance to see the palace forge, which is any bladesmith’s dream...
