Thief of Cahraman: A Retelling of Aladdin (Fairytales of Folkshore Book 1)

by Lucy Tempest

  Cherine rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, I know. Because your mother cow goddess will get offended.”

  “No, because she’s a rat.”

  “I thought animal insults made no sense to you?” I pointed out as we followed everyone.

  “Yes, good animals, like cows and dogs. Rats are the worst, no one likes them. They’re vicious, destructive and carry diseases.”

  “Imagine if the animal her brother turned into was a giant rat!” Cherine seemed giddy with the thought.

  “What’s the story behind that again?” I asked.

  “No one knows anything for sure.” Cherine frowned her displeasure at not knowing. “But I intend to find out within the coming weeks!”

  Still shaky with the release of tension, I leaned on her as we walked. She was the perfect height to collapse upon. “Speaking of next week in particular, what did he mean by our quality?”

  “You know, how cultured we are.”

  “But we just did the etiquette thing.”

  Cherine waved my protest away. “Oh, that was barely a proper test of etiquette, and by cultured I meant our hobbies and talents.” Stopping in the now empty hall, she faced Cora and me. “By the way, what are your talents? We need to start practicing tomorrow.”

  “I can weave, cloth and baskets.” Cora acted out the motions of weaving. “I can also sew and sketch—and cook, in a sense, too.”

  Cherine threw her hands up and shimmied. “I am going to choreograph a dance.”

  Cora nodded at her, uninterested. “What about you, Ada? What can you do?”

  Steal. Which was what I needed to do with my borrowed time.

  Apart from that, what could I do?

  Nothing, that was what. Absolutely nothing.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “What do you mean you can’t do anything?” Cherine’s voice was loud enough to carry to the whole floor.

  I sighed, feeling far worse than I had before the first round of eliminations, if that was possible. “Exactly what I said.”

  It was day eight, a day before our second test. I had spent the first day after Elimination Day unwinding. The other seven had been consumed in waiting for Cyrus to show up, then in searching for him, and for anything to give me more time if I didn’t fulfill my mission before the second test. I had found neither him, nor anything that could pass off as a talent.

  What was I supposed to do? Go up to Loujaïne and say, “Hey, want me to give a demonstration on the arts of lock-picking and pick-pocketing?”

  But I wouldn’t be in this desperate state if Cyrus hadn’t vanished since our first exam.

  I’d been stupid to pin all my hopes on his help. He’d just told me what I’d wanted to hear to get me off his back.

  What if Nariman had done the same thing? She’d told me the Fairborns were safe for now, but what if she’d been lying? What if they were already dead and buried beneath the dunes we’d made our deal upon? What reason did I have to believe she’d been telling me the truth?

  I had none. But I could do nothing but cling to the hope. If I started thinking they might be dead…

  I shook those thoughts out of my head before I hyperventilated.

  I looked around, trying to escape Cherine’s interrogation. We were now in one part of the room of mirrors in the hobby hall—a dance studio. Cherine had intimidated four girls out of the room earlier, shouting at them and bouncing around until they fled her sight. She now practiced barefoot in loose pants and a sleeveless blouse, humming notes and mumbling words to a song under her breath as she danced.

  I’d been watching her as I sat on a high-backed chair in the corner, flipping through the book Master Farouk had given me. Mostly the sections on the travels of Esfandiar of Gypsum and the adventures of the White Shadow.

  Why couldn’t Nariman have sent me to do something like this? Why did that stupid lamp have to be here and involve this ridiculous competition? Couldn’t she have sent me into death-trap ruins so I could at least use my skills and have fun pretending to be an adventurer?

  “Nothing? Nothing at all?” Cherine’s disbelieving shout rang out as she pirouetted.

  I shook my head, reluctantly looking back at her. “None.”

  “No singing or dancing?”

  “None at all.”

  “No painting or sculpting, either?”

  “I can’t even draw a straight line.”

  “What about playing an instrument? Any at all?” she squeaked, appearing at her wit’s end as she made a graceful leap.

  “Does the triangle count?”

  She palmed her face in frustration as she came to a perfect halt.

  I sighed. “Guess not.”

  “How do you not know any of those things? These are the hallmarks of a gentlewoman’s upbringing and education.”

  “What part of ‘we were and still are poor’ have you missed?”

  “Cora’s not that much better off, and she can do stuff.”

  “Is that a compliment?” Cora asked from her corner where she was making a wicker basket with dried sugarcane strips.

  Cherine looked over at her as if she’d never heard anything so ridiculous. “It’s an observation.”

  As they continued to bicker, forgetting about me, I slouched further in my chair and redirected all my focus towards the book.

  The illustrations were incredible, setting the scene of the events. I had to wonder if all of these were real stories, or if the White Shadow of Avesta was a mythical figure.

  In some of the illustrations his companions or his wife, Princess Nesrine of Zaranga, were added for contrast. While they were colorful, he was monotone with his long white hair, pale skin and brows and light eyes. He was also the only one not properly shaded, with just enough grey to differentiate between his face, hair and cape. But apart from the stark difference in his coloring, his features were drawn similarly to the other men. It might have been the illustrator’s style, but I felt that there was a reason for that.

  Like every time I saw him, I thought of Cherine’s ghoul. He hadn’t revisited since Belinda had left our quarters. Which was how long it had been since I’d seen Cyrus.

  I turned the page to the start of another chapter, chronicling the tasks the Shadow had had to perform to win Princess Nesrine’s hand. I flipped further in and found another illustration with him giving us his back, his white hair flying in the air as a storm of smoke and sand spiraled out the mouth of a bottle.

  “Are you listening to me?”

  I blinked, jerked my head up, found Cherine leaning over me, bare arms firmly crossed over her chest, her slender fingers tapping them grouchily.

  I closed the book. “Yes, dear.”

  “Then what did I just say?”

  “Er…something about me being incompetent as a lady?” She took a swipe at my head. I ducked. “Hey! What was that for?”

  “I was saying that I still feel like that ghoul is following me. Watching me.”

  Cora flapped a sheet of cane at her. “For the last time, you had a stupid nightmare.”

  Cherine stomped. “I did not!”

  Cora set down her things with a long-suffering groan, no doubt knowing Cherine wouldn’t let us focus on anything but her. “What would a flesh-eating monster even be doing way up here? How would it survive without exposing itself? If it was picking off the living then the guards would have noticed people going missing.”

  “The guards didn’t notice it was in our room!”

  “That’s because it never was! And before you scream me deaf again, even if it was there, why target only you?”

  “I don’t know,” Cherine shrieked. “It might…”

  A loud knock on the double door cut their argument short.

  They both beat me to yelling, “Come in!”

  No one entered.

  Another knock followed.

  “I said come in!” Cherine shouted.

  Silence. Then another knock.

  Giving up, she shooed me. “Go see what
that’s about, we have stuff to do.”

  “Stuff that includes you taking hour-long breaks to obsess over your ghoul or needle me about my lack of talents?”

  The unimpressed stare was back, rendering her hazel eyes beady. With an effortless spin on one foot, she dance-marched to the door, posture exaggerated, arms flowing behind her.

  She had barely cracked open the door when she squealed and slammed it shut and flattened her back against it, panting.

  Tucking the book under my arm, I rushed over to her. “See a ghost?”

  Judging by her aghast face that was exactly what she’d seen.

  “I-it’s outside,” she choked.

  My heart jumped in my chest, and not with fright. “Really?”

  She nodded vigorously, messing up her hair.

  Cora appeared over us. “It’s still light out. Don’t these things go bump in the night?”

  “I’m t-telling you…i-it’s outside the door,” Cherine whimpered, clutching at me. “White hair, red eyes and veins. S-so many veins.”

  Nudging her out of the way, I opened the door wide enough to stick my nose out.

  The veiny, red-eyed ghoul had been replaced by a golden, green-eyed man.

  “Cyrus!” I breathed.

  “I got the right room then.” He brushed a lock of hair off his bewitching eyes. “Do you have a minute?”

  I checked the others over my shoulder. Cherine had split to the other end of the room to squeeze herself by Cora who was back to working on her basket, weaving hands unaided by her rolling eyes.

  I slipped out of the room and joined him in the hallway, scowling up. “I had a week’s worth of minutes, mister.”

  All the other doors were thankfully closed, muffling the cacophony of misplayed instruments, off-key singing and thumping choreography. The arts and crafts rooms were dead silent in comparison.

  He seemed to be examining the sea-green carpet beneath us, as if its geometric pattern was more interesting than me.

  Every anxious moment of the past week crashed down on me, making me want to grab and shake him. “I’ve been waiting for you to make good on our deal. What took you so long?”

  He rolled his shoulders in an easygoing shrug, the picture of unhurried ease. “Patrol never left their post at the vault, still paranoid that thieves were lurking. Rummaging around in the treasure would have been impossible, so I had to wait until I was sure they were gone. That, and I do a lot of odd jobs around the palace. I’ve also had to take up managing an entire project after the original manager up and left it all to me.”

  My fury suddenly drained at his explanations, especially when I realized he did look very tired. “Don’t know about shouldering a whole task, but I know what it’s like to fill in someone else’s shift when I’m dead-tired, so…you’re excused.”

  “Your mercy is much appreciated.” That was clearly his ‘the-customer-is-always-right’ mode, of biting his tongue and reciting insincere thanks.

  He didn’t appear that much older than I was, but it seemed he’d been in the business far longer. His grip on his tone and emotions was seamless, no doubt ingrained from years of learning how to avoid conflict or even appease those who started it.

  “I tried to come to you as soon as I had time off,” he assured me, this time looking earnest and sincere. “But I couldn’t find a way to get you alone until now.”

  So, he was a fellow thief and server who upheld his promises, with a bonus sense of humor and one-of-a-kind good looks?

  I dragged my wandering thoughts back to the literal life-and-death situation at hand. “So…any news about the vault?”

  He hummed, clasping his hands behind his back. “Yes, about that. My friend, the one I mentioned before, he has a way in that could bypass the guards. You wouldn’t even need to walk through the palace itself.”

  “That’s great!” I jumped up in excitement before I forced myself to lower my voice. I couldn’t afford anyone coming out to investigate. “How do we get there? Are we going now? Please tell me it’s now.”

  “It could be now. Could be later. It all depends.” Cyrus mused as he started to circle me with slow strides. I could feel his eyes on me, sizing up every inch and angle. His engrossed gaze was like a caress, like he wanted to reach out and touch me but settled for watching me as if he was afraid to blink. As if he wanted to commit every part of me to memory.

  It was the first time anyone had ever looked at me like I was something worth remembering.

  “Depends on—” My voice cracked with a surge of throat-sealing emotion. My heart rammed my ribs hard enough to bruise them. I coughed, tried again. “Depends on what?”

  He brought his face closer to mine, whispered, “Why do you want to get there so badly.”

  I felt my face burn. “Uh. Um. I—um, told you. I’m hoping something in there might help me.”

  He tilted his head, amplifying the scrutiny in his eyes. “Help you how?”

  It was hard to keep steady with him looking at me like that. Or just looking at me in general. What I had intended to be a cool, confident deflection came out as a stumbling stutter. “What’s it to you?”

  “Funny, I said the same thing to you before and you called it dodging.”

  Damn it. I hated it when my own arguments were used against me.

  I exhaled, conceding. “That I did. And I answered you the first time, too. That I’ll know it when I see it.”

  “Alright.” He stepped back, hands up in surrender. “Say I sneak you in now, you get what you’re looking for. They’re going to notice you were gone by the time we slip you back to your chambers.”

  “I’ll come up with an excuse. I can’t afford to keep putting it off or I’ll become as forgettable as Fairuza says I am.”

  At the mention of Fairuza, his features twitched. “How come whatever you want doesn’t seem important enough for you to actually know what it is?”

  “No, no, it is important. And I’m running out of time. I’m definitely going to get kicked out this round. I need to do this now.”

  “You were wrong last time,” he reminded me, looking pleased with himself.

  “This is different. Last week ten other girls actually did worse than me. That won’t happen this time. This is talent week. I have none. None I can show to get points with, anyway.”

  “Talent? Is that what you think it is?”

  “What else could ‘quality’ mean? Quality to these types of people, these types of girls, is how they’ve been trained to be special—or cultured, that’s their word.”

  He paused, mulling it over before saying, “I see your point.”

  “So?”

  “So?”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Ah. That, again, depends,” he said, stepping back. “Do you want to get caught wandering around alone, or worse, with me? Or do you want to be sneaky about all this, go in and out and be back before anyone notices?”

  “Definitely that second option. It will need to be tonight, after they’ve already seen me as part of the headcount, so everyone can agree that I did enter our room and stayed there. I’d do it myself if you give me your friend’s secret to roaming around unseen. But if that vault door is closed even I might not be able to open it. Unfortunately, I need you for that.”

  “Unfortunately?” he echoed with mock-offense, hand over his heart. “And here I thought you liked me.”

  The protest that I did like him almost flew off my tongue. I barely caught it back. It wasn’t wise to let him know how much I did.

  Instead I said, “I’ll like you even better when you help me.”

  “In that case, I’ll pick you up after bedtime.”

  Before I could ask a hundred questions about how he planned to get me out of my room, he had sped off in the other direction. He paused only to speak to someone unseen in the shadowy corners and then he was gone.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Long past lights-out, I was wide-awake, staring at the roof of my four
-poster bed.

  I had been counting the fifteen visible loose threads in my canopy for what felt like hours now.

  Cyrus had left me hanging. Again. He hadn’t given me a time, or a sign to use as a heads-up or even an idea how he was going to get in.

  This was a terrible idea.

  Shame it was my only one.

  My feverish thoughts wandered, as they always did, back to Bonnie.

  What had happened to her in all this time I’d been languishing in this palace? Where were she and her father being kept until my time ran out? Had they been stashed in some kind of dungeon in Rosemead? What did Rosemead even look like? All I got from the word Arbore was that it was very wet and very green. Kind of like Northern Ericura, whose settlers most likely came from Arbore.

  What kind of monster lived there and did it really eat girls like Bonnie?

  If so, I wished they’d feed it Fairuza instead.

  Finally, after an interminable stretch of dead silence, I heard something. The scrape of marble on marble. It was followed by the smooth slide of fabric on the floor, then a tread too heavy to be any of the girls.

  I hopped out of bed, bag in hand, ready to follow Cyrus out. Then I stopped dead.

  Because it wasn’t Cyrus.

  It was the ghoul.

  And he was again standing over Cherine. Who was wide-awake.

  Scared speechless, she stared up at him, trembling mouth half-open, holding the covers tight up to her chin and shivering in terror.

  The ghoul held out a hand to her and I panicked. I zoomed toward him, clasped my hands and swung them with all my strength at his back. It was as if my blow had the impact of air.

  He turned his red eyes on me, all I could see of his head beneath the scarf that wrapped it.

  “If you’re trying to defend her, there’s no point.” He sounded calm, his voice soft and raspy, as if he hadn’t spoken in ages. “I’m here for you.”

  Cherine finally let out a choking squeak and hopped out of her bed to run for the door. The ghoul instantly caught her back. His big hand clamped over her mouth and nose as she struggled wildly.

  He was going to kill her!

  I attacked again, rabidly trying to loosen his grip on her. He only put his other hand on my face and shoved me away.