Traitor to the Throne

by Alwyn Hamilton

  ‘Seems like you already know what to do.’

  I shrugged. I’d spent the last half a year listening to Shazad and Ahmed strategise. I’d picked up a few things. ‘There’s more.’ I laid out the movements of other soldiers for Sam, struggling to remember all the details from the war council. There were more travelling south into the territory that Ahmed had claimed. Sensing a weakness. But it was a diversion; Saramotai was the only city they were going to take back for now.

  ‘When the troops start to leave the city, it won’t be so swarming with soldiers any more,’ I pointed out. ‘Shazad said half the Rebellion was short on things to do; well, this is a good chance to change that. Supply routes to the army, and I don’t know what this one is marking’ – I pointed out the red dots – ‘but seems worth looking into.’ I handed him the stack of papers and gave him as much as I could remember from the war council, each a precarious building block towards peace in Miraji that we could dismantle, that we could seize and use as a weapon in the Rebellion. And I tried to shake the feeling that I was a traitor to my whole country with every word I spoke.

  Chapter 26

  Now that I could leave the harem, I spent as little time as I could there. The palace could’ve been a barren wasteland to rival the Last County and I wouldn’t have cared, so long as it was free of Kadir and Ayet and the rest of the gaggle of wives.

  I was required a few hours every day at the Sultan’s meetings. He met with each of the foreign delegations separately. The Albish ambassador was an ancient man with pale age-spotted hands that shook so hard he couldn’t hold a pen. I overheard him tell his scribe that I reminded him of his granddaughter. He didn’t lie as viciously as the Gallan but he didn’t come ready to hand over the truth, either. He might wear a kinder face but he wanted something from us, same as the Gallan did. The Xichian didn’t have an ambassador. They sent a general who eyed me with distrust with every word I spoke.

  I sat behind the Sultan in each meeting, to his right, where he could catch my eye when someone was talking and know the truth of it. I kept the men negotiating the terms of the ceasefire honest. And I learned as much as I could while I was at it. I learned where the foreign troops were stationed along our borders. I learned who the Sultan trusted and what he knew about the Rebellion. His son Rahim, Leyla’s brother, attended every single meeting. He scarcely spoke unless his father asked him something directly. A few times I caught him watching me.

  After a few meetings I learned that I couldn’t avoid Kadir entirely outside of the harem. Every so often, he would turn up at negotiations, too, forcing a place for himself at the table. Unlike his brother, he offered opinions his father didn’t ask for. Once I caught one of the ministers rolling his eyes as Kadir spoke.

  Kadir was the only person who seemed to be able to get a word out of Prince Rahim unsolicited. The two princes sparked off each other like angry flint. I remembered what the Sultan had said, that Rahim would make a good choice for Sultim if he weren’t so ruled by his emotions. So far I hadn’t seen any emotion from him except hatred for Kadir.

  I returned to the harem every night to meet with Sam at dusk and hand over what I’d gathered.

  What was left of the days belonged to me to spend however I wanted outside the walls of the harem. I explored as freely as I could, while carefully avoiding the foreigners who were gradually invading the palace. There were a hundred more gardens that bloomed so thick with flowers I could barely get the doors open, or where music seemed to drift through the walls along with a breeze that smelled of salt and bright air. It wasn’t until I climbed a tower that looked out over the water, and the same air picked up my clothes and hair in a rush, that I realised it was the sea. I’d spent my short time on the sea drugged and bound. But that wasn’t the memory the sea air stirred up. It was sitting on a dusty shop floor, as far from the water as I could be, with my fingers dancing along the tattoos on Jin’s skin.

  Once, I rounded a corner to see a figure ahead walking with a limp that was so familiar I was ready to turn and run. I stopped walking so abruptly when I saw him that the guard accompanying me that day walked straight into me. The shame on his face was the most expression I ever got out of one of them. It was nice to know they were human somewhere under that uniform, at least. It turned out it was only an Albish soldier, wounded by a Mirajin bullet before the ceasefire. Besides, Tamid didn’t walk with a limp any more, I remembered.

  I was putting on a good show of wandering aimlessly. But the Sultan wasn’t stupid enough to give me complete freedom in the palace, either; a soldier waited for me outside the gates of the harem every morning and latched on to me like a silent shadow. The soldier changed every day, and none spoke except to tell me when I was wanted at a meeting. If I tried to take a turn I wasn’t supposed to, my guard just became a new wall between me and whatever door or passageway I was heading for. A heavily armed wall that just stared straight ahead until I took the hint.

  But I wasn’t about to give up. I needed to get back to Bahadur. The Djinni. My father. The Sultan’s new hidden weapon. I had to find a way to free him before the Sultan could use him to annihilate us.

  *

  I wished I wasn’t so familiar with the feeling of waking up in trouble. But the harem was softening me. Used to be, an intruder’s presence would’ve woken me well before getting close enough to put a blade against my neck.

  I wrenched myself to sitting, heart racing in panic, ready to face whatever threat the night was bringing. Soldiers. Ghouls.

  Worse. Ayet.

  The light of the mostly full moon shivered along the blade in her hand as she drew away from me. Not a knife, I realised: scissors. More dangerous was the smile on her face. In her other hand, her fist was curled around a long dark braid.

  My hand flew to my scalp. The last person who’d bothered to cut my hair was my mother before she died. In the years since, it had reached close to halfway down my spine, though it spent most of its time twisted under my sheema. Now it ended bluntly, just above my shoulders.

  ‘Let’s see how much he wants you now that you look like a boy.’ Ayet wound a piece of my slaughtered hair around her finger with a sneer.

  Anger rushed through me, fiercer than anything so stupid and vain warranted. But I didn’t care if it was stupid and vain. I moved as fast as I knew how, lunging for her. Before she could so much as flinch, the scissors were in my hand. I might not be able to hurt her, but she didn’t know that. I pressed the blade against her throat and had the satisfaction of watching her eyes widen.

  ‘Listen to me.’ I had a grip on the front of her khalat before she could make a run for it. ‘I have bigger things to deal with than your jealousy about your husband’s wandering eyes. So why don’t you go take this out on someone who actually wants to steal him from you.’

  Ayet laughed bitterly, throat moving against the blunt scissors pressed to her neck. ‘You really think this is jealousy? You think I want Kadir? What I want is to survive the harem. This place is a battlefield. And I think you must know that. Or else what did you do with Mouhna and Uzma?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Trying as hard as I could to stay out of the way of Kadir and his wives, I hadn’t been in the harem enough to notice anything about Uzma since she’d tried to humiliate me in court.

  ‘Uzma has disappeared.’ Ayet sneered, but I could see the fear behind those eyes now. Girls like her were dropping like flies and all she had to protect herself was a pair of scissors. ‘Just like Mouhna. People vanish out of the harem all the time. But Kadir only has three Mirajin wives. And then you arrive and two of them disappear. Do you think that’s a coincidence?’

  ‘No.’ Coincidence didn’t have so cruel a sense of humour. Jin said that to me once. ‘But I know this wasn’t me.’

  *

  It took me until midmorning the next day to find Shira. She was sprawled across a throne of cushions in the shade of a huge tree, attended by a half dozen servants. Two women stood guard, while one laid co
ol cloths on her skin, another fanned her, and another massaged her feet. The last one was immobile but ready, sweat beading down from the lip of the pitcher over her hands. She looked flushed and uncomfortable standing just outside of the shade.

  It looked like the future Sultan of Miraji already had his own court, even if he was really the son of a fake Blue-Eyed Bandit. And Shira was taking advantage of it for the few weeks left before she gave birth to him. She was a long way from Dustwalk now.

  As I got closer, one of the servants standing guard blocked my path. ‘The blessed Sultima has no desire for company today.’ Sure, the blessed Sultima looks as solitary as a hermit today. It was on the tip of my tongue, but my Demdji side didn’t recognise the difference between sarcasm and a lie. I had to satisfy myself with raising my eyebrow at the small crowd surrounding her. The woman didn’t seem to appreciate the irony.

  ‘Shira,’ I called out, over the servant’s shoulder. She lifted her head enough to squint at me, sucking on a date pit between her fingers. She pulled an annoyed face but waved her hand.

  ‘Let her through.’ The servant moved aside reluctantly. I gave Shira a pointed look. With another dramatic sigh she dismissed them. Everything from the wave of her fingers to the sprawl of her body looked lazy, but her sharp eyes never left me. ‘So that’s what Ayet wanted scissors for,’ she said by way of greeting, as her court dissipated. ‘I was wondering. You know, I thought about cutting it all off back in Dustwalk when you slept a few feet away from me, but I actually worried short hair might suit you.’ She tilted her head. ‘I guess I was wrong.’

  ‘You got Sam to smuggle you in a pair of scissors?’ I caught myself tugging on the ends where they didn’t quite reach my shoulders and dropped my hand. But not before Shira caught the gesture.

  ‘You’re surprised?’ She ran her hands along her swollen middle.

  I supposed I shouldn’t be. Shira and Sam might not be anything more than a means to an end for each other, but she was carrying a child that meant something to both of them. Still, I’d figured Sam was with us now. The notion that he might still be getting into other trouble we didn’t know about while smuggling information for us made me uneasy. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t just a little bit angry he could be so cummy with me, all while handing over tools to humiliate me with when I wasn’t looking.

  ‘Just be grateful I refused to procure her a knife. A slit throat would suit you even less than’ – she waved a hand vaguely – ‘that.’

  I swallowed back a retort. I couldn’t get into a war of words with my cousin just now. ‘What kind of game are you playing, Shira?’

  ‘It’s called survival.’ Shira extended a hand towards me, opening and closing her fingers like a demanding child. I took her hand, helping her sit up so she could look at me straight on instead of from the ground. She moved slowly, one hand splayed protectively over her middle. ‘I would do anything for the survival of my son.’

  ‘And what are you going to do if your son is born looking like Sam?’ I challenged. ‘Blue eyes look awfully suspicious on desert folks, I can tell you that much.’

  ‘He won’t be.’ She said it with such determination I could almost believe she could truth-tell it into existence even though I was the Demdji here. ‘I haven’t done all this just to fail at the end. Do you know how hard I have worked to never be alone here in the harem since it became known that I was pregnant? I traded those scissors for a secret from Ayet that I can hold on to like a shield against her. Because I need to keep her away from me more than I need to keep her away from you. Don’t get me wrong, you’re an excellent distraction, but when I give birth it is over for his other wives unless they can give him a son, too. And they can’t. And they all know that. So do you honestly think Ayet is above doing away with a pregnant girl to keep herself alive? I’ve seen what you’d do for survival, Amani. I know you understand.’

  Tamid bleeding out onto the sand. I pushed the image away. ‘Is that why Mouhna and Uzma have disappeared? Your survival?’

  ‘Interesting.’ Shira sucked on the date pit between her teeth. ‘Here I’d been thinking Mouhna and Uzma were your doing. Seeing how you’re rubbing elbows with the Sultan now. They weren’t all that nice to you. And it looks to me like you’ve got the power to make them disappear if you wanted …’

  If I was going to get rid of them, I’d start with Ayet. I shoved that thought away. ‘So if it wasn’t my doing or your doing … Girls don’t just vanish into thin air.’

  ‘Not outside of stories, at least.’ Shira ran her tongue along her teeth, a hint of worry creasing her eyebrows as she looked far away. Then her attention snapped back to me. ‘Let’s say I wanted your help for something.’ Shira peeled one of the cloths from her forehead. ‘What would you want in trade?’

  ‘Why should I help you?’ I crossed my arms. ‘I’ve got your life to trade you if I need anything. What else have I got to gain from you?’

  ‘You’re a lot worse at this survival game than I thought you’d be.’ Shira sounded really and truly exasperated. Like we were kids again and I was too stupid to understand the rules to some game she’d made up in the schoolyard.

  ‘Then why don’t you tell me how you want to play?’

  ‘I want information,’ Shira said. ‘I’ve seen you with Leyla. The scrawny princess with no charm.’

  ‘What about her?’ I sounded defensive even to my own ears. Whatever time I did spend in the harem was usually spent with Leyla. We took our meals together. Usually I ate while her food went cold as her whole attention spilled into whatever little mechanical toy she was constructing.

  ‘She’s up to something,’ Shira said simply.

  ‘Leyla?’ I failed to keep the scepticism out of my voice this time. ‘Is it all the toys she builds for children that makes you suspicious, or the fact that she’s still almost a child herself?’

  ‘She sneaks around.’ Shira reached for a fresh cooling cloth. ‘She leaves the harem and I don’t know where she’s going. I can’t follow her. But you can.’

  ‘You want to know where she’s going?’ It was hard to take her seriously when she was making accusations against someone two years younger than us. ‘You’re worried about Leyla?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Shira rolled her eyes. ‘I’m worried about her brother.’ Prince Rahim. Ah. Now, that didn’t sound so stupid. ‘Rumour has it he’s in a great deal of favour with his father the Sultan.’ That much was true. I remembered what the Sultan had said about Rahim over duck that night.

  ‘You think he might have designs on the throne.’ I suddenly saw where her train of thought was going. There was no love lost between Rahim and Kadir. I just didn’t know if he hated him enough to snatch away his wives. But if he did, Shira had to be a target.

  ‘Oh, look at that, you’re not as dumb as you act.’ Shira draped the new damp cloth over her brow; it sent rivulets of water across her eyebrows and down her cheeks. ‘The rumour was that before Kadir proved he was able to conceive an heir’ – she ran her hand along her swollen middle – ‘the Sultan was close to taking the throne from him. Rahim was said to be the favourite. Why else is he back in court when he’s a commander in Iliaz?’ That name sparked a pain in my side where the bullet scar was. Iliaz was a sore reminder of being shot. ‘If he does have designs on the throne and he’s using his sister’s knowledge of the harem to get to it, I want to know. And there must be something you want in return for information on Leyla and her brother.’

  Leyla had helped me when I needed to get free of the harem. She’d guided me in my first days in the harem. She’d saved me from Kadir’s wives. She was as close to a friend as I was going to get inside these walls.

  And I wasn’t the girl who betrayed friends any more. Only Shira didn’t know that. She knew me as the girl from Dustwalk who left Tamid bleeding in the sand. Who would do what she needed to get what she wanted.

  But the beginnings of an idea were sparking in my mind. I’d been looking for a way to shed my
guard. This might be one.

  ‘What if I needed a distraction? For the guards.’

  ‘A distraction like a pregnant Sultima pretending to go into childbirth weeks early?’ She caught on quick.

  ‘And folk in Dustwalk used to say you were as dumb as you were pretty.’ I couldn’t keep it in, petty as it was. I was still angry with her about my hair.

  ‘I made it through sixteen years in that town with a whole lot less trouble than you did,’ Shira pointed out. ‘Why do you need a distraction anyway? Are you trying to slip off to see a certain cripple of yours hiding in the palace? Because you ought to know, you might not get as warm a welcome as you’re hoping for.’

  ‘Tamid is none of your business.’ My thumb jabbed at the metal under my arm painfully. It was almost a tic now. She’d found my sore spot. And the smile playing over her mouth said she knew it.

  ‘Oh, so you do know he’s here.’ She saw the answer written all over my face. ‘They took both of us. Because you left us.’

  ‘You wanted to go, because Fazim was done with you.’ That blow landed so hard that I almost regretted it the second the stricken look bloomed over her face. But she’d hit first. It was a bad idea to play chicken with someone who’d known you your whole life. Nobody came out a winner.

  Shira pulled the mask of Sultima back on. ‘Say you’ll bring me information about Leyla and I’ll be your distraction.’ She stuck out one hand, heavy with new gold bangles. One of them no doubt already traded to Sam for the scissors that had cut my hair. They clattered impatiently together. ‘Do we have a deal?’

  I took her hand and pulled her to her feet. ‘Let’s go.’

  *

  I had to admit Shira wasn’t a half-bad actress. Her screams were so convincing I worried a few times that fate really was cruel enough to send her into labour the same moment she’d been faking it. She sure slumped on me heavily enough as we staggered through the gates of the harem. Her cries and sobs covered my words to the guard waiting for me. He was young and his eyes went wide with panic as his Sultima collapsed into his arms.