When she said nothing else, Deen took a deep breath. He made no effort to hide his disbelief, and Alizeh was quietly surprised by his concern.
“Very well, then,” he said, exhaling. “Have a seat. Let’s take a look.”
Alizeh pulled herself up onto the high chair at the counter, the better to be examined. Very slowly, Deen began unraveling the bandage at her neck.
“You’ve wrapped this quite nicely,” he murmured, to which she only nodded her acknowledgment. There was something soothing about his gentle motions, and for a moment, Alizeh dared to close her eyes.
Never could she articulate precisely how exhausted she was. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d slept more than a couple of hours or felt safe enough to stand still for long. Seldom was she allowed to sit, almost never was she allowed to stop.
Oh, if only she could get herself to the ball tonight, anything might be possible. Relief. Safety. Peace. As for the actual shape of such dreams—
She had little in the way of expectations.
Alizeh was a failed queen without a kingdom, without even a small country to rule. Jinn were fractured across Ardunia, their known numbers too few, and the rest, too hard to find. Long ago there had been a plan for her ascent, the details of which Alizeh had not been made privy to at such a young age. Her parents always insisted she focusinstead on her studies, on enjoying her youth a while longer.
Alizeh was twelve when her father died, and only afterward did Alizeh’s mother begin to worry that her daughter knew too little of her fate. It was then that she told Alizeh of the Arya mountains, of the magic therein that was essential to unlocking the powers she was rumored to one day possess. When Alizeh had asked why she could not simply go and collect such a magic, her mother had laughed, and sadly.
“It is not so simple a task,” she’d explained. “The magic must be gathered by a quorum of loyal subjects, all of whom must be willing to die for you in the process. The earth has chosen you to rule, my dear, but you must first be found worthy of the role by your own people. Five must be willing to sacrifice their lives to give rise to your reign; only then will the mountains part with their power.”
It had always seemed to Alizeh an unnecessary, brutal requirement; she did not think herself capable of asking half a dozen people to die for her, not even in the interest of the common good. But as she could not now think of even a single person willing to forfeit their life in the pursuit of her interests—she felt it premature to rely upon even Hazan—it seemed a futile point to consider.
What’s more, Alizeh knew that even if, through some miracle, she managed to claim her rightful throne and earn the allegiance of tens of thousands, she’d have already failed them as their queen, for she’d be sentencing her own people to death.
It required little creativity to imagine that the king of Ardunia would crush a rival on his own lands; his recentpursuit of her was proof enough of his concerns. He would never willingly lose his seat nor his people, and Jinn were among his numbers now.
Alizeh opened her eyes just as Deen unfurled the last of the linen at her neck.
“If you would please hold out your hands, miss, I’ll unwrap the linen there, too,” he was saying. “Though the cut at your throat appears to be healing very well...”
Alizeh held out her hands but turned her head toward the window, distracted as she was just then by the sight of a small, ancient woman pushing past a heaving wheelbarrow. The woman had aged much like a tree might, her face so gracefully inscribed by the passage of time that Alizeh thought she might count each line to know her age. Her shock of white hair was made a brilliant orange by henna and tied back with a floral scarf that matched her vivid, floral skirt. Alizeh glimpsed the woman’s harvest: green almonds piled high in the cart, their soft fuzzy shells still intact, shimmering with frost.
The old woman nodded at her, and Alizeh smiled.
She had been surprised, upon arrival in Setar, to discover how much she loved the commotion of the royal city; the noise and madness were a comfort to her; a reminder that she was not alone in the world. To witness every day the collective effort of so many people striving and making and working and breathing—
It brought her unexpected calm.
Still, Alizeh was not like the others who lived here. Her differences were many, but perhaps her most problematicwas that she did not accept, without question, the greatness of the Ardunian empire. She did not accept that the Fire Accords had been an unmitigated act of mercy. In some ways, yes, they had been a kindness, but only because most everyone had longed for an end to the millenia-long strife between the races.
It was precisely why her people had conceded.
Jinn had grown tired of living in fear, of having their homes set aflame, of watching their friends and families hunted and massacred. Mothers on both sides had grown tired of receiving the mutilated bodies of their children from the battlefield. The pain of the endless bloodshed had reached its pinnacle, and though both sides desired peace, their mutual hatred could not be unlearned overnight.
The Accords had been enacted under the banner of unity—a plea for cohesion, for harmony and understanding—but Alizeh knew them to be motivated entirely by military strategy. Enough Jinn had been slaughtered now that their remaining numbers were no longer considered a threat; by granting the survivors the veneer of safety and belonging, the king of Ardunia had effectively subdued, then absorbed into his empire, tens of thousands of the strongest and most powerful beings on earth, for whom a little known provision had been made: Ardunian Jinn were allowed to exercise their natural abilities only during wartime, and only on the battlefield.Four yearsall capable citizens were required to serve in the empire’s army, and newly absorbed Jinn were not exempt.
All of Ardunia thought King Zaal a generous, just ruler,but Alizeh could not put her faith in such a man. He had, with a single, cunning decree, not only absolved Clay of all atrocities against Jinn, but rendered himself magnanimous, added to his armies a flood of supernatural recruits, and stripped ice-blooded Jinn any right to their constituents.
“All right, then,” Deen said brightly. “All done, miss.”
His lively tone was so unexpected Alizeh turned at once to look at him, surprise coloring her voice. “Is it good news?” she asked.
“Yes, miss, your skin has restored itself exceptionally well. I must say—those salves were of my own making, so while I know their many strengths, I’m also aware of their limits, and I’ve never known them to be responsible for such rapid healing.”
Alizeh felt a bolt of fear move through her at that declaration, and she quickly withdrew her hands, studying them now in the sun-soaked room. She’d only changed her bandages once since she was last here, and only in the dead of night, overcome by exhaustion, her effort lit by the dim glow of a single candle. Now Alizeh studied her hands in amazement. They were soft and unblemished, no damage, not a scar to be found.
She dropped her hands in her lap, clenched them tight.
Alizeh had often wondered how she’d survived so many illnesses on the street, how she’d recovered over and over even when pushed to the brink of death. Fire, she knew she could withstand—it was the deep frost in her body that repelled it—but she’d never before had such irrefutable evidence of her body’s strength.
