by Lucy Tempest
It got worse as we got deeper into the hall. All the elaborate, masterful decorations that had once graced it, what I’d likened to a dotted line pointing to the treasure, were now masses of obscene ugliness, with the walls and ceilings matted in slimy dark magic cobwebs.
The sight clearly disturbed Cyrus deeply as we waded into the deserted, semi-dark mess. Once in the middle of his father’s former quarters, now filled with rubble, he stopped stiffly where a frieze of a simurgh had once been. It was now a gaping, jagged hole in the wall, as if something had ripped it out in a fit of fury.
“She couldn’t be sleeping in this—festering shambles,” he said, his voice dark and ragged. “And she isn’t keeping my father confined here, either. Where could they both be?”
“She could be keeping him in the dungeons?”
“If she kept Loujaïne in her chambers, why keep him in the dungeons?”
I knew where this was going. He was back to dreading his father might be dead. I rushed to steer him away from the thought. “As a self-styled queen, can she be in the last queen’s quarters? Your grandmother’s?”
“We’ll check there right after we—” He stopped dead.
“Cyrus? What is i—?”
My dark-adjusted eyes suddenly burned with the faint, red glow he emitted. The same terrible hue that had gripped me during my last hour in Ericura, draining me of free will…
White-hot terror ripped through me as I poured every remaining spark of strength into pulling at him. I had to get him as far as possible from here. But his unresponsive body felt as heavy as a boulder, my dwindling stamina as ineffective as if I was trying to move one.
“Cyrus, wake up!” I begged, and the red glow encompassing him grew brighter, its color intensifying, until the bubble of panic burst inside me. “We have to run!”
“Run where?”
I swung around so violently my neck cracked, the pain literally blinding me.
My vision blinked back to the very image of my worst nightmares crossing the threshold of the hate-infected chamber.
Huge, slit-pupil, yellow eyes.
The eyes approached, shrinking, dimming, only for their heart-snatching effect to intensify, until I was face to face with her.
Nariman.
She seemed to be materializing out of thin air, which she probably was. Even the darkness seemed to give way to her, unable to withstand the radiation of her power. Though the hypnotic glow emitting from her snake staff’s ruby eyes and cocooning Cyrus didn’t extend to me, I still stood transfixed as she came within arm’s reach.
The memories of the times her projection had appeared before me, when she’d been banned from physically entering Cahraman, assailed me. This time it wasn’t a transmitted image, but the flesh and blood presence of the woman who’d hurled my world into turmoil.
She looked me dead in the eye as she reached into her cloak, and pulled out the golden lamp. “Looking for this?”
Chapter Ten
There was nowhere no run, no more tricks to play, no more gambles to risk.
The ring was useless against her and she had her magic, her staff and the lamp. She could unleash any or all on us any second now.
My legs buckled and my head lolled back on a useless neck. I would have welcomed darkness claiming me. But hands grabbed me, steadied me back on my feet.
Cyrus.
She must have released him at some point. I turned my head against his chest, saw him staring at her over my head.
“Lady Rostam…”
She cut him off with a hiss. “Did you really think you could rob me?”
Cyrus’s hands tightened on my shoulders as he lowered his gaze from her face to the gleaming object in her hand.
And I saw it. The terrible second everything started connecting in his mind.
“A golden lamp…” A hard swallow cut off his rasp before he looked down at me, gaze staining with shock. “Is-is this the lamp you’ve been searching for?” Before I could react, he raised his eyes, separated from me to face Nariman. “Where did you find that lamp?”
“Here.” She flung a gesture around what used to be the king’s quarters, a sickening smirk curling the corner of her painted lips. “But I couldn’t have gotten my hands on it if it weren’t for her. She really went above and beyond in this project.”
He snapped his head in my direction. “What project is she talking about?”
I licked ashen lips, my throat an arid wasteland. “It’s—it’s a long story. But I can explain—later.”
“I want you to explain now.”
He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t even frown, and it made it all even worse.
My mind went dark faster than a blown out candle. I could do nothing but stare at him mutely in the eerie light that tasted of Nariman’s power and fury.
The sound of her voice, dripping enough venom to kill a platoon, splintered our heave-breathing silence. “After all my years of loyal service, your father used it to banish me, and only it could return me. But she found it for me, brought it to me. And the ‘project’ is all you see before you—a kingdom of my own.”
Confusion marred his handsome face, snapping my heartstrings one by one with agonizing recoils. “You helped her do this?”
I shook my head, shook all over. “She never told me why she wanted the lamp!”
“You never did, either, only implied you were on a quest to retrieve it for a goddess…” He stopped, realization slashing in his eyes. “You actually never even implied it, I reached that conclusion myself. You only let me believe it, much like you manipulated the guards into thinking what suited your story.”
I’d always done that, steering people into believing what served my purpose. Now I found nothing to say that wouldn’t condemn me further. “I d-didn’t know what else to tell you.”
“How about the truth?”
“The truth would have gotten me thrown in prison or worse for treason.”
“Not if you explained it to me...” He paused again, looked unsteady on his feet for a moment, as if under the barrage of invisible punches too powerful to withstand. Then he finally rasped, “Is that the whole reason you came here?”
“Y-yes.” I reached a trembling, imploring hand to him. “She sent me here to find the lamp. But I swear I didn’t know it would lead to all this. I didn’t know what was in it!”
He stumbled away from my reach, gaze fracturing and mouth contorting under the brunt of emotions I couldn’t bear him to suffer, especially towards me.
Then he went totally still. “What’s in it?”
“A—genie.”
He sagged, swaying like he was about to pass out.
When he next spoke, it was as if each word was a shard of glass cutting through him. “A genie did this, not her staff. And you knew the entire time.”
I choked on tears as I swallowed them back. At this point, he’d only think them more manipulation. “I did know, after the fact. I didn’t know that was her plan.”
“You handed her a genie in a lamp. What did you think it would lead to?”
“I knew she had a sinister purpose, not at first, eventually, but I didn’t know what it was. And when suspected the lamp had a genie, I tried to get it out. When I failed, I thought maybe it wasn’t in there. But I never intended to give her the lamp, anyway, only to use it as bait until I could use the ring to stop her from harming you or Cahraman.”
His gaze seemed to turn inwards, as if replaying memories that now disturbed him greatly. “It did sound like you cared about the fate of Cahraman. The responses you gave Master Farouk in that first test were all so compassionate and creative, about how you’d fix and change things if you became the princess.” His focus suddenly returned to me, as if he’d caught me in yet another lie. “But you were like every other girl, telling us what you thought would secure your stay till the very end. The only difference is you were far more astute, judging what we, what I wanted to hear correctly and delivering your act in seamless si
ncerity.” An overwhelming sadness extinguished the unique brightness of his eyes. “You were the only one whose true purpose I didn’t even suspect.”
“I had no purpose and I—I…”
I stopped, the pressure to say something, anything in my own defense suffocating me. Then suddenly, it was too much, and the guilt and dread and despair, what had always been threatening to crush me, tilted and splashed into scalding anger.
My every muscle locked as I glared at her, then at him. “I was dragged here against my will, was thrown off the deep end in a situation I never imagined. And all I could do was be myself. Every answer and action was mine, not an act. I had no idea you’d consider them ideal, thought I messed up every test and agonized over being eliminated, and Nariman punishing me for it.
“When you made me stay after every test, I was flabbergasted. I was a feather in the wind blown by her whims—and yours!” His heavy-lidded eyes widened at my counter-accusation. “Just as she told me nothing of her plan, neither did you. You might not have had a malevolent motive like her, but you both played with my fate in your own games. I tried all I could to play by your rules, to survive, to set everything right—and I failed. I’m to blame that the world turned inside out.” I gulped down a breath that sprayed like acid in my lungs making me shriek in pain, “But I’m not the only one to blame.”
There. I’d said it.
I’d been wallowing in crippling guilt since Nariman had dragged me into this realm. First over Bonnie and Mr. Fairborn being in danger because I’d followed Nariman to the Hornswoods. Then when I’d realized she’d targeted me in specific, over putting them in danger by my mere proximity. Then I was guilty I’d been forced to lie to Cyrus after I’d found out who he was. Then guilty because I’d miscalculated and she’d unleashed the genie, turned Ayman to stone and Cahraman into bedlam. And a million other things in between.
There was only so much guilt I could bear before it pulverized me.
The silence that followed my outburst was louder than anything I’d ever heard.
Just when I thought it would deafen me, Nariman’s cool, chilling jeer splashed over me, almost welcome. “Are you done with your young love drama, or do you need a minute?”
Cyrus’s gaze tore from mine, turned to her, then back to me, the expanding betrayal and letdown filling it deflating my temporary bravado, shattering my heart all over again.
Then he finally huffed, a sound of absolute defeat and resignation. “The two people I cared most about in the whole world.”
He said nothing more.
I exchanged a glance with Nariman, and for a moment I thought I saw my same mortification in her eyes.
But what was I thinking? His disappointment and heartache couldn’t pain her as they did me. This was the witch who’d turned his kingdom into a waking nightmare, who’d had no qualms about imprisoning him forever until he agreed to be a tool in her rise and a weapon to enforce her ambition. He might believe she cared for him—I even believed she did—but I also suspected the woman who’d once cared for him was gone. Only the witch remained.
She seemed to reinforce my opinion, her voice hardening into a vibrato of wrath. “I only took what I was owed. Your father not only reneged on his promises but thought he could discard me, deny me the fruits of all I worked for and cut me off from you.” When he continued to look down at her in absolute bleakness, she huffed. “If it helps, she hasn’t robbed your father, Cyrus. The lamp, while not my family’s as I told her, isn’t his either.”
That didn’t arouse a flicker of interest in him. It set off a flare in me.
“Then whose is it?” I asked.
She gave a dramatic pause then said, “Jumana’s.”
His mother’s?
She was literally the last person I could have thought it belonged to.
As I gaped at her, like she was always inclined to, Nariman elaborated, “It was among the gifts given her by the reigning Prince of Almaskham and his wife—that aggravating dowager I keep confined with that grandson of hers—before they sent her off to marry your father.”
Cyrus stepped back from both of us, a hand over his chest as if to clutch his heart. “My mother had a genie?”
Nariman gave a heavy-hearted sigh. “She didn’t know it at the time. Like Ada here, she thought it was an expensive but ugly heirloom. But I and the other two ladies-in-waiting knew. Aurelia entrusted us with the knowledge, to be used only in dire situations.”
“Did she ever use it?” Cyrus asked, his voice muted and his gaze dulled.
Nariman nodded, turning her staff so its head faced her. “She squandered the first two without even realizing she made wishes. But a genie is a vengeful entity, and would sooner damn its masters rather than serve them, if they’re not careful. That’s what happened in her last wish.”
“What do you mean not careful?” Cyrus asked, a tremor traversing his voice, as if expecting a far worse revelation.
“Oh, you know, like saying ‘I wish I was barren’ in front of a genie.”
Cyrus’s jaw worked as he briefly squeezed his eyes shut. “She didn’t want me.”
Nariman looked up at him, a hint of the person I’d met at the very start reappearing, showing a nervous, remorseful side. “No, dear boy, she didn’t want to be the princess of Cahraman.”
“But you said—”
“If she didn’t want you she wouldn’t have carried you to term,” Nariman cut him off.
He still shook his head. “If her last wish was to be barren, how was I conceived?”
She lifted the lamp, aiming its spout towards him, as if pointing the genie itself at him, her eyes storming with emotions. “Because I wished for you.”
Chapter Eleven
Ever since I’d seen Nariman’s magical eyes in the Hornswoods, my world had unraveled many times over. It now did yet again.
It hadn’t been magic potions that had kept Jumana from conceiving like King Xerxes had thought, or like Nariman had let me believe when she’d told me the story of Jumana and her ladies-in-waiting. It hadn’t been Nariman herself as I’d suspected, resulting in Hessa’s death, before she’d fixed it to save herself. It had been an accident. An exasperated wish from an immature young woman wishing to be rid of her new status the only way she knew how.
Nariman gazed at Cyrus with what looked dangerously close to love as he continued to stare at her, eyes glazed with shock. “Aurelia claimed the genie would only obey royalty, to keep its power for her favorite niece. But after Hessa was executed and Jumana squandered all three wishes, I desperately commanded the genie myself. I thought it might smite me for it but it turned out it would grant anyone three wishes. I made my first wish that she would have you. That she and Darius would have the most perfect son.”
Nariman had given away a reality-bending wish like the one that had transformed Cahraman to rectify Jumana’s mistake. And because she had, Cyrus was born.
But if my world had tilted again with this revelation, Cyrus’s must have overturned.
To find out that Nariman had wished him into existence! It must tamper with his very sense of self, must make him question everything in his life. Just like I’d made him question his self-worth and judgment. Those two blows would be enough to shatter anyone.
I couldn’t bear the look of bewilderment and loss on his face. And though knowing I was no longer welcome to touch him, comfort him, I couldn’t help my impulsive attempt to do both.
My touch made him jerk away so hard he almost stumbled.
It would have hurt less if he had backhanded me.
After long moments of ragged breathing, he finally asked, “What happened after that?”
Nariman looked at him as if she too was contemplating reaching out to him, before she thought better of it. “She became pregnant with you. King Xerxes watched her even closer and only let Dorreya and I live until he saw how you turned out. When you were born, he was finally happy. You were perfect in every way. He paid us all no mind afterwards, b
ut Jumana could no longer know a moment’s peace.”
“Why?” His question carried a world of frustration and confusion.
“Because living under your mad grandfather’s thumb drove her to desperation. Because Dairus didn’t protect her as he should have. She would have been far better off marrying Azal. She would have been alive today if she married him!”
“Azal?” Cyrus rasped. “Loujaïne’s former husband?”
“The very same. Azal wanted to marry Jumana, but your dear aunt had her eye on him. So she had King Xerxes arrange a trade with Prince Faisal, giving Jumana to Darius instead, while she got Azal, whether any of the others liked it or not. The only one who ended up happy with this arrangement was Loujaïne…” Loujaïne’s name became a snake’s hiss as her eyes began to enlarge and glow again. Next second, they dimmed to their human form as her painted smile spread. “Her satisfaction only lasted until Azal sent her home in disgrace.” Next moment, the glow was back. Loujaïne was clearly one of her two most inflammatory subjects. It was a wonder she hadn’t harmed her while she’d had her in her power. “She was the reason your grandfather suspected us of dark witchcraft to begin with. She blamed us for her inability to give birth to a ‘proper’ firstborn.”
“What do you mean ‘proper’? Loujaïne had a stillborn.”
“No she didn’t. Loujaïne gave birth to a hearty, healthy son, only one they considered cursed. So they claimed she birthed a stillborn, and sent her back to Xerxes.” She gave an ugly, furious laugh. “Once home, she told her father we were tampering with Jumana’s fertility like we tampered with hers and corrupted her child. The child Azal’s people abandoned in the desert to die.” She tilted her head at him. “I think you know who I’m talking about.”
Cyrus looked like he was about to be sick, dread building in his eyes.
He suddenly doubled over, hands over his knees, body shaking. “Ayman is—is…”
“Is your cousin,” she finished for him.
And if I had any doubts about this before, they were now gone.