“On the water?” said Miss Huda, her head swiveling between them. “Are we getting on a boat?”
“Not you,” said Kamran and Hazan at the same time.
“Hazan,” the prince said, shaking his head as he glanced again at the skylight. “I can’t leave yet. I have to stay here at least a while longer.”
“What?” Hazan recoiled. “Why would you want to stay here? You’re standing next to a matted pile of rats—”
Miss Huda shrieked.
“Oh God,” Deen whispered. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“They’re not rats,” said Omid helpfully, in a broken accent. “Well, they’re notonlyrats. There’s also a possum, I think, and, um, the other one, I can’t remember the name in Ardanz—”
Miss Huda shrieked again.
Kamran paid this no mind; he was about to hold out his hand to Hazan, to show him the feather clutched in his fist, the parcel tucked into his pocket, when suddenly the night was torn asunder by a beautiful, terrifying cry.
Kamran could not see her, not at first, for the astonishing bird was blocked from view by the mostly enclosed roof, but he felt his bleeding hand heat against the feather he still clutched, and he knew in his bones that she’d arrived. The tower prison shuddered as she alighted, and he was struck by the force of her power, the strength she wielded even now, when he couldn’t see her. He saw the shadow of an enormous talon through the skylight, and in a series of violent, elegant motions, she crushed the roof of the prison with her claws. Pulverized rock came raining down on their heads, and the group of them bolted from the room to avoid thecatastrophic shower, returning only when all was quiet, and when, through the clearing dust storm, Simorgh appeared as if out of a dream.
She was magnificent.
Kamran moved forward as the others drew back, and he fell on one knee before her. Broad and gleaming, Simorgh spanned the width of the entire room, her downy, glimmering feathers a muted starburst of color in the moonlight. She canted her head and regarded him with dark, inky eyes a long time before she finally nodded in a simple acknowledgment that set Kamran’s heart to flutter. She made a sound, a warble soft and tender, then dropped to her knees so that he might scale her back.
Kamran felt his breath catch in his chest.
“Simorgh,” Hazan whispered.
“Heavens above,” Deen gasped. “I never thought, in all my life—”
“Am I dreaming?” said Miss Huda. “I think I might be dreaming.”
“Yes, miss,” said a dazed Omid. “You are.”
Hazan stepped forward and bowed before the bird, who only studied him curiously. The former minister rose incrementally, his body rigid with astonishment as he turned to the prince. “Kamran, how did you—?”
“I promise,” said Kamran. “I’ll explain everything later. But if the situation is as dire as you say, we better get going.”
“Get going?” Hazan’s eyes widened. “To Tulan, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“WithSimorgh?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my goodness, we’re going to Tulan?” cried Miss Huda. “Are we going to save Alizeh?”
Again, Kamran flinched at the sound of her name. He didn’t dignify Miss Huda’s question with a response.
“Take these,” Hazan said to the prince, pulling a strap over his head. “I grabbed a few weapons from the stockpile before I left—I didn’t know if I’d need them. But if we’ll be entering Tulan from on high, best to have them at the ready, just in case.” He tossed Kamran a quiver of arrows, and then a bow, both of which his friend caught easily, and slung quickly over his back.
“Thank you,” said the prince. “Truly.”
Hazan only looked at Kamran a moment, then responded with a firm nod.
“Could I have something, too?” said Omid, who was approaching Hazan with an eagerness Kamran found unnerving. “I don’t have any weapons, and I’d like to be armed—”
“Oh, and I as well!” cried Miss Huda. “Do you happen to have any throwing stars? I’m quite good with throwing stars—”
