But when I turned the last corner to the kitchen, the smell hit my nose and stopped me dead in my tracks.
The kitchens always smelled good. Like garlic and paprika, mostly. But tonight, after the princess’s midnight order, it smelled like bread. Gods, freshly baked bread.
I peeked around the corner. The kitchen was empty. Chef Nena must’ve gone to bed after handing me the tray. But the stone counters were still lightly dusted with leftover flour, and the large, curved oven’s mouth lay open like a sob. I could just glimpse the dying embers inside, a tongue of slumbering fire. A warm breeze blew in through an open window and carried the smell from the oven all the way to me at the threshold.
I glanced down at the tray in my hands. The thin disk of bread was mostly untouched. Despite how hard I clenched my stomach, it let out a stubborn rumble. Thank the gods no one was around to hear it.
I hovered my hand over the bread but didn’t dare touch it. Faint warmth rippled up to meet my palm. I imagined how soft it would feel, how delicious it would taste. I hadn’t had fresh bread since Mama’s birthday, before I was snatched off the street and brought to the palace. Sixteen years ago.
My eyes darted around the hallway. No servants. And the next round of guards wouldn’t be due for at least five minutes. It would be nothing to slip the thin disk under my neckline. As long as I kept my head down in the hall, no one would look twice at me, and once I was in my room, I could have the whole disk to myself. I’d eat it under the covers. In the morning, rats would rid the bed of any crumbs. No one would know, and I wasso hungry—
No!I screamed the word in my mind, the scar over my heart pulsing in warning.The gods would know. My princess would know. Do not disobey.
Tears burned my eyes as I set the tray on the counter with shakyhands, sending up prayer after prayer of contrition to my gods, the Seven Monarchs, for even thinking of stealing.
I stared at the food a moment more, swallowing back the saliva gathering in my mouth. Salivating like an animal. Shame shot through me. With a shuddering breath, I turned on my heel and went back to my princess’s rooms.
I did not miss Nightly Prayer.
TWOSAMIRA
Most nights, I collapsed into an exhausted, dreamless heap on my cot. But that night, it didn’t matter how long I tossed and turned, I couldn’t sleep. My stomach cramped painfully, and my ears echoed with the sound of a young girl’s desperate gasps.
I sat up with a huff.
My room was little more than a cubby in the clay walls beneath the kitchens. There was a small window offering a view of the Lotus River and a curtain for a door. Neither I nor my roommate, Nadia, had many belongings, just our uniforms, cots, and a pair of sandals.
I shifted onto my knees, moving slowly, cringing when my cot creaked.
But Nadia just made a soft snuffling noise and rolled over.
I folded my legs under me, sitting back on my calves and heels, and held my hands out to either side of me, palms facing up. Then I let my eyes drift to the Lotus River through the window, a perpetually reassuring sight. Past the river, I could see all of Ketopolis, the capital city of Ashorah, named for the Mother of All, Ketet. The glimmering lights of the city shone like stars in their own sky.
When I’d first been brought to Khada Palace, I’d resented the city’s beauty. The vibrant tapestries hanging from the Ketopolis Market, the tall domed structures, the bustling energy, the potent smells of spices that wafted toward the palace all the way from across theriver. I’d missed Mama and Baba and our little hut near the river, where our world consisted of the fish Baba caught, the bread Mama baked, and the handful of similar homes around us. I had friends, I thought. But I’d only been six years old when I was taken, so my memories were mostly blurry.
I’d been desperately afraid without Mama and Baba. All I knew were the scary stories they’d told me about Ketopolis. Children slaughtered, criminals around every corner, evil royals overseeing it all. But I was too young to understand how important all of this really was, how important the royals were.
Now I loved them. I’d sworn to it in front of my king, my princess, and dozens of guards. I loved them, and I’d vowed to love them until the day I died.
I let the sight of the river and city ground me as I prayed for Ketet to take away the gnawing in my stomach.
Prayer always brought me peace. It centered me. Blanketed me in comfort, whether or not my pleas were answered. As if for that moment, I wasn’t here in Khada Palace; I was suspended in a serene lake. Tranquil, placid, quiet.
But then my stomach rumbled again, wrenching me back to my tiny cot. A whimper rose in my throat.
You should’ve taken the bread, Samira. Not for your own selfish hunger, but so you could sleep and better serve your princess tomorrow.
My stomach groaned again as if in agreement, and I bit my lip. Maybe the bread was still there. It wasn’t even close to morning. Chef Nena wouldn’t have had a chance to clean up yet. Maybe I could sneak back to the kitchen—just for a tiny bite. And then in the morning, I’d tell Tabia what I’d done, and she could decide if it warranted a punish—
Something in the river caught my eye. A disturbance in the current. I frowned.
I’d watched the Lotus River for the last sixteen years. It lulled me to sleep every night, greeted me every morning. I knew the wayit jumped over every rock, around every obstacle. But the way it was rippling now, going in the opposite direction…
Moonbeams streamed down on the river in perfectly straight columns.
And then they flickered.
It was dark. I was tired. There couldn’t be someone in the river. No one would dare, especially after Nailah’s punishment.
