Shay shakes her head slowly, stillnot daydreamingabout his lips.Notadmiring their shape. And definitelynotwondering how they would fit against hers. How the feel of them might smooth away her ever-growing number of problems, if only for a moment in time.
She clears her throat. “Do you? Think I can do this? Honestly?”
“No.” His eyes flick over her face, pausing at her lips, as if he's possessed by the same distractions as she. “I know you can.”
He's sitting near enough that she feels the heat of his body. His breath stirs her hair, a soft flutter against her cheek that sends a delectable chill down her spine. Silver moonbeams reflect in his eyes.
Moonbeams?Shay straightens, snapping to her senses. She has left Hind unattended for far too long. What if she needs something and the brothers don't know what to do? What if she takes a turn for the worse? “I must get back.”
“Of course.” Shadi gives his cheeks a brisk rub. He stands and offers his hand. “By the way, Yara wanted you to know she thinks it's brave, how you're helping your mother.”
Shay gets to her feet, forcing a smile. She wishes she had a mother whose love didn't require bravery. A relationship that came easy instead of leaving scars. “At least one of the twins doesn't hate me, then.”
“First, no one hates you.” He squeezes her hand before letting it go. “And my sisters look alike, but ironically, they aren't twins. They were born to separate families in different regions of the realm. Mmi adopted them after their parents and other family members were martyred.”
“Oh.” Shay's struck by the notion that there's something she meant to ask him, but she can't remember what it was. “I still think Marjan takes after your mother. In personality, at least.”
“I'm sure she'd take that as a compliment.” Shadi chuckles, his eyes soft with fondness. He uses the candle to light a lantern before snuffing it, shadows dancing to life around them. “I know she has a tough exterior, but there's a heart of gold underneath it all. You'll see when you get to know her.”
They make their way to the door and step into the night air, which has cooled considerably. Mufeed brays softly, as if to say,It's about time.
A faintly sour smell on the air nudges Shay's memory into place. “The moon pepper! I've been meaning to ask you about it. Do your sisters still take it?”
“Funny you should ask,” Shadi says, but he looks more perplexed than amused. “It was Mmi who told me to harvest it. But then Marjan refused to take it. Which I get. She's immensely proud of being a hizoura. It's validating to her as a mutahawil.”
Shay nods in understanding. Shawafa belongs to all women, regardless of what body part she has between her legs.
“And then Yara also refused, more in solidarity than anything.”
Shay finds it hard to imagine anyone going against the Morchidat's directives, especially after putting Shadi through the trouble of harvesting it. But more than that, it doesn't make sense that the leader of the Sisterhood, a group that advocates for the return of magic, would desire to suppress it in her daughters. “Why did she want them to take it in the first place?”
“That's what I wondered, too,” he admits, gazing up as if the stars might string themselves together to spell out the answer. “All I know is, Mmi neverdoes anything without a reason. Sometimes, I think we're all just pieces on a Parchis board to her, and she's always strategizing six moves ahead.”
Deebi has somehow persuaded Hind to eat a small amount of couscous by the time Shay returns. She hugs him before he leaves the room, barely registering the rotten-egg scent that perpetually lingers on his skin.It's not that bad once you're used to it.
“I need to check on the baby's development.” Shay turns to find Hind quietly watching her. She braces for more arguments. “Are you feeling up to it?”
Hind nods compliantly. “What do I need to do?”
Shay lets out a long thankful breath. The glass from earlier may have been swept away, the wall wiped new, but her mother's volatile words still soil the room, as glaring as any stain. Her throat aches with the effort it takes to keep her voice calm and measured.
“Lie back and lift your clothing, please.” She kneels next to the pallet and palpates Hind's engorged belly. “How far along are you?”
“I don't know, honestly.” Hind stares expressionlessly up at the thatched ceiling. “The days tend to blur together when you're blitzed out.”
Shay pauses. “But you said it was early.”
Hind puffs out a short breath, then gives a meek shrug. “I didn't want you to worry.”
How thoughtful.
“Plus, you have to consider the effect of my Shawafa on the child. Its development could be accelerated.”
Shay crosses the room to her dresser and grabs a streamer of parchment she had the brothers procure from the medina, one she's marked with increments to replicate the strips Ghita used for measurement. She stretches the strip from the top of Hind's pubic bone to the peak of her uterus. Nibbling her lip, she holds the strip up to the lantern light to be sure the number she thinks she sees is correct. “One more thing.”
Next, she retrieves a small horn she petitioned Dasri to fashion for her. Despite Shay's suggestion that he use a hollow piece of wood, the off-white color of its surface suggests he went with a different—more readily available—material.As long as it works.
She presses the cone-shaped end of the horn to Hind's mounded belly and moves it around in a slow circular pattern—then she hears it. Strong and steady. The sound of tiny galloping horses. The sound of new life. Her future sibling's heartbeat.
