“You can’t,” he said.
“Why not? She could’ve hurt herself –”
“We haven’t caught the assassin yet – I won’t take any risks with your life –”
“She’s aservant–”
“It’s a convenient uniform,” he said, shooting her a knowing look.
“But – Hazan, we can’t simply leave her there –”
A cluster of snodas rushed into the hall at the commotion, two more of whom spotted Alizeh and promptly screamed. One of them clapped a hand over her mouth, fighting back a sob, while the other struggled to speak, then fainted.
The remaining servants, who were ostensibly not Jinn, stood and stared at Alizeh in open-mouthed astonishment, their appraisals all the more unnerving for the fact that she couldn’t see their eyes.
Hazan shook his head. “I’m taking you away from here. You can’t wander these halls alone anymore.” Glancing at Huda and Kamran, he said, “You two, meet us in the library.” Then, “And try not to kill each other before you get there.”
“But, Hazan – wait – someone has to help the snodas –”
“I’ll do it,” came a familiar, saccharine voice. Alizeh turned,unnerved, to see Sarra striding toward their group at a leisurely pace.
Sarra shook her head, her eyes fixed on Alizeh as she said, “What a strange and fascinating surprise you’ve turned out to be. Lately everywhere I turn there seems to be some drama, and you, my dear, at the center of it.”
Alizeh said nothing to this, only watched Sarra warily as the woman sashayed past them toward the fallen snodas, snapping her fingers for someone to fetch “that Ardunian apothecarist.” Alizeh still had no idea what to make of the woman, and she was afraid anything she said would be heavily scrutinized, for they were in the presence of at least twenty servants at the moment, a dozen of whom had filed into the hall in the last seconds alone. The longer they stood here, the more of a spectacle they were becoming. Whispers were gathering around them like a storm.
“Let’s go,” Hazan said, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“Yes,” Alizeh said, distracted. “Yes, we should go. We’re going to be late.”
“Late?” Kamran and Huda turned toward her at the same time.
Beside her, Hazan stiffened. “Late for what, Your Majesty?”
TWENTY-NINE
WHEN THEY PUSHED OPEN THEheavy door to the library, Alizeh knew at once that he was inside. She could feel him somehow, as if she were magnetized to his presence. She moved with confidence through the unfamiliar space, its cavernous dimensions lit by warm pools of light.
“This way,” she whispered.
“Are you sure?” Huda whispered back. “Good grief, this room feels haunted at night.”
“Maybe that’s because you’re here,” Kamran said in an undertone.
Huda gasped. “Maybeyou–”
“Enough,” Hazan said sharply. “Keep your stupidity to yourselves this evening or I’ll have you both thrown in the dungeons.”
“You have no authority to do such a thing,” Huda protested.
“You think Cyrus would deny me such a request?”
Huda looked affronted; Alizeh couldn’t help but smile.
In the end, the four of them had headed to the library together, for when Alizeh had explained, vaguely, that Cyrus was waiting for her, Hazan had been inexplicably angry; Kamran had expressly refused to leave her side; and Huda had said,“Should I bring my throwing stars?”
The imposing, soaring shelves towered over them as they went, the smell of old books and aged leather filling her nose. It was a well-loved room, clearly a place meant for more than display, dotted throughout with worn chairs and rugs. As she pushed on, Alizeh discovered the heart of it: at the end was a discrete space anchored by a mammoth, unlit fireplace, around which were a collection of plush sofas and low tables lit by golden light from nearby lamps. The back wall, however, was a masterwork of glass: massive windows and doors looked out upon a heath crowned by a brilliant moon, the glow of which cast an ethereal spotlight upon a single figure.
Leaning against the mantel, was Cyrus.
