The solar cycle's first snow has arrived. Shay rarely recalls Nezjar's moon changing color, but with the shifting seasons, the moon over Ard Al-Ghul has shifted, too. Gone is the reddish tint of a human heart that heralded her arrival, replaced by an aura of icy blue.
The white fluffs change direction with the wind, gusting first one way and then another, like a troupe of tiny dancers, all in sync. The itch intensifies, and Shay peers past the snow to the dark dwelling next door.
A lantern flickers in an upstairs window. It throws momentary light over the shadowed figure that stands there, watching her. Even from this distance, she swears she sees the white gleam of Tarik's sharp incisors.
Shay leaps back from the window, her heart beating into a knot. She firmly yanks the curtains closed and dives beneath her blankets. The antidote severed the connection that drew her to the bloodsucker against her will, but that doesn't mean he can't come for her some other way.
Despite the thickness of her blankets, it takes a long time for Shay to stop shivering. Sleep does not find her easily this night, nor for many nights to come.
14
Greetings of peace, loyal soldier of the Sisterhood,
Our scholars have recently been in contact with a Marabout who supports our cause. The holy man has rare access to preserved historical documents that confirm what we have long suspected about the existence of four hjabats and their importance to our mission. As we have reason to believe one of these talismans may currently be located in Nezjar, you are to remain at your current post and await further instructions.
THE WAY BEFORE WILL BE ONCE MORE!
The Morchidat
P.S. When was the last time you trimmed your hair, Yassine?
—a letter, burned after being read but later gathered in ash
and remade for posterity using the transformative Shawafa of Mutahawil
Tapping rouses Shay from her recurring dreams of running through Al-Ghaba Mayita. She never sees who's chasing her. Hind. Tarik. Al-Mukhtar. So many threats; such a dark and dangerous world.
The tapping grows louder and more insistent. Wincing, Shay opens her eyes to unexpected brightness. She assesses the length and angle of the midday shadows across the room and scrambles out of bed to open the door. Deebi stands on the other side.
His eyes, the green of fireflies, flash with worry. “Lallati, I was about to break down the door.”
“I'm sorry, khoya.” Shay rubs her eyes and yawns against the back of her hand. “I didn't realize the time.”
His gaze remains concerned. “Are you well, lallati? Have you come down with something?”
In truth, the nightmares are not the worst part of her nights. It's the time she spends awake, in the company of her thoughts. She bounces between being angry at Hind and despairing over whether she's even still alive. She debates whether, if Hind suffers delusions similar to Sami's mother, she's even liable for her actions. But stealing the ring and pinning her crime on Shay? It feels too deliberate and cunning to blame on addiction.
Sometimes, Shay wishes there were an antidote to the unreciprocated love that burns inside her, as poisonous as any venom. From her newfound distance, it's easier to see that neither Hind nor Ghita told her the full truth—whatever that is. Only the version that served them best. Even Shadi, the boy Shay remembers with fondness, hid something important from her. Shay is sure of it.
Is everyone in all the world a liar? Or does Shay attract deceitful people to her like a lodestone? Is she destined to repeat the same scenario over and over?
“No, no.” She smooths her hair over her shoulder to appear presentable. The question she always comes back to is why. Why did Hind do this to her? How did Shay manage to fail at something as basic as obtaining her own mother's love? Was she too needy? Overeager? As little as Shay actually sleeps, it's no wonder she can barely crawl from bed in the mornings. “I'm fine. Just a little tired.”
The bone-eater appears unconvinced. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Oh, Deebi.” Shay is taken aback by the question. The answer of no forms quickly on her lips, replaced when she has a sudden thought. “Actually, could you stay with me tonight? When your brothers go out? Just this once?”
“I would love to.” Deebi frowns and shakes his head sadly. “But I don't think Aidi would like that.”
Shay sighs. “Of course. You're right. I wouldn't want to get you in any trouble.”
Deebi shifts from foot to foot. “Is there something I could bring back from the medina, perhaps? Sowing season is upon us. There are strawberries and roses in abundance. Or would you prefer something else?”
“That's nice of you.” Shay works up a smile, hoping it doesn't look as fragile as it feels. As though it could slip from her face at any moment, and break. “Whatever you choose, I'm sure I'll be delighted.”
“Wakha.” Deebi gives a hesitant nod, then a firmer one. “I'll leave you to rest, then.”
“Oh, I'm awake now,” Shay assures him. “Just give me a few moments, and I'll be down.”
