Her heart was racing, her panic multiplying.
Unconsciously, Alizeh placed an arm around Huda’s shoulder and squeezed, holding steady as the young miss yielded to this comfort. Alizeh listened as Huda sniffed sharply, retracting the feelings that had escaped her otherwise iron grip. The two of them were staring toward the window in silence when Alizeh said, softly, “If anyone puts rat entrails in your pillows again, I’ll kill them.”
Huda choked out a shocked, watery laugh.
Alizeh knew it hadn’t been easy for Huda to be raised in high society as the unwanted daughter of a fallen woman; it hadn’t helped that Huda’s scandalous bloodline had informed the curves of her body, easily distinguishing her from her sisters. Huda’s figure was voluptuous in a way that seemed to delight the worst vultures of a preying public, all while driving her stepmother to madness and cruelty. Alizeh had paid close enough attention to Huda to know that her loud, prickly facade sheltered a wealth of crushing pain – and a deep vein of untapped tenderness as well.
Why else would the girl have followed her all this way?
“I never thanked you for coming to save me,” said Alizeh, whose own smile was faint. “Consider it a repayment for your kindness.”
Huda laughed again, louder this time. She wiped her eyes and said,“Goodness, I don’t know why I’ve turned into a watering pot. I’m a bit overwhelmed, I suppose. It’s been nearly a month of worry, then too much relief, and now this generous offer of murder –”
“What are friends for, if not to kill your enemies?”
Huda collapsed into a fit of giggles. “Oh, wouldn’t it be lovely if we could choose our own sisters? I’d trade in all five of mine for just one of you.”
Alizeh reared back. “You havefivesisters?”
Huda nodded even as her shoulders shook, her laughter slowly abating. “I’m the baby, if you can believe it. Youngest children are supposed to be spoiled rotten, aren’t they? But then Mother says I was born rotten and needed no spoiling to get there.” Huda was still smiling as she spoke, but Alizeh stiffened.
She turned carefully to face her friend, for she was remembering an alarming conversation they’d once had – something Huda had said –
If Mother discovers I’ve hired you to make me a dress I’ll be reduced to little more than a writhing, bloody sack on the street, for she willliterallytear all my limbs from my body.
The nosta had glowed neither hot nor cold at this horrifying statement, leading Alizeh to believe that Huda had been uncertain whether her mother might deliver her such violence. Alizeh was beginning to worry that Huda’s home life was a good deal worse than her sharp wit and untroubled air had led others to believe. She thought to test the nosta again now, to ask Huda a pointed question about her mother when she realized – in a blaze of fresh panic – that she wore nothing but a silk shift.All of Alizeh’s things were gone: her cloak, her dress, her boots, her corset –
The nosta.
Had it fallen out of her clothes in this recent plummet to the death? Had the Diviners confiscated the magical object when tending to her wounds? How might she be sure? Perhaps she could find one of the priests and ask? Her mind was spinning now, her uncertainties escalating –
“Anyhow, dear, it really would be grand if you could try to remember. Do you even think it’s possible someone poisoned you?”
Alizeh’s head shot up at that. She could hardly think straight at the moment, much less remember anything useful. This conversation had dealt her so many emotional challenges she struggled even to flit from one thought to another, and yet – unfortunate as it was – a possible attempt on her life was the least shocking of Alizeh’s concerns. She’d been nearly murdered enough times now that such an event was no longer cause for surprise, and, in fact, was becoming quite routine.
“Yes,” she said, blinking. “Yes, I suppose it’s entirely possible.”
“In that case, I have to say – reluctant as I am to reward Kamran’s terrible moods – that Cyrusdoesseem the likeliest suspect for such a crime, no matter how many dramatic displays” – Huda gestured dismissively to the room – “he’s fashioned all around the city.”
Very slowly, Alizeh electrified.
She felt the tremble of awareness in her fingers first, then in her chest and elsewhere, her body coming alive with a terrifying quaver of feeling. Her heart pounded dangerously as she looked around the room at the infinite blooms; the endless, devastating beauty. Her words were a breath when she said, “Cyrus did this?”
NINETEEN
CYRUS SAT ATOP THE OLD,mossy roof of an outbuilding at the very edge of the Diviners Quarters, the damp of the sponge beneath him slowly seeping into his cloak. He pulled his knees up to his chest, stifling a shiver as the sun made a weak effort far above. Droves of clouds hovered before him, circling the grounds so completely that Cyrus could hardly see the temple below for all the white that obscured it – though this mattered little. He knew this property better than he knew his own home. He needed only to close his eyes to imagine the room she was in, to picture in detail its dimensions and contours. How many years had he all but lived here in his youth? How many times –countless– had he run freely into the arms of his teachers? Once, his life had been nothing but prayer and divination, quiet and contemplation.
Now –
Now he was but a tormented shade of his former self. His soul disfigured beyond recognition, his hands singed with dark.
He glanced at the newspaper in his hand, the headline screaming at him.
ALARM AROUND THE WORLD AS JINN UPRISING IMMINENT
It was a copy ofThe Daftar, Ardunia’s preeminent publication. Cyrus had been receiving copies of this, and other journals, for several months, for it was his custom to remain abreast of international news. He took a particular interest in the headlines from the north, for Ardunia had long been his greatest threat, but Cyrus himself had not been the focus of foreign interest since his first horrible month as king, a time in his life so dark it nearly eclipsed the era he was in now.
Nearly.
