I swung open the door and strode inside. To find an empty room.
I looked wildly around.
“Hey, scholar.” Lisha sat on one of the tabletops, picking at her nails with a small dagger, her legs crossed beneath her.
My shoulders sagged. “Lisha, where is everyone?”
Sliding off the table, she shot me a wicked grin. “Your sister’s really something, isn’t she? I can see why that sultan of yours wanted to marry her.”
Something clenched in my chest. “I said where is everyone?” My voice came out higher pitched than I’d intended.
“Oh, relax, scholar. She’s downstairs with everyone already.”
Spirits. I hoped she wasn’t too overwhelmed. “Downstairs?”
Lisha beckoned me over to a corner of the room, pointing down at a dusty, wooden trapdoor. “We’re in the tunnels. It’s the easiest place for all of us to meet up.” Heaving up the heavy door with a loud creak, she gave a mock bow. “After you, Your Highness.”
Ignoring the smirk in Lisha’s voice, I slipped down the ladder beneath the trapdoor and into the tunnels below. Flickering torches illuminated the dark space, and I could hear a chorus of voices echoing from up ahead.
“What’s the deal with your sister anyway?” A too-casual voice drifted down from above, a tone I recognized from many of Lalana’s admirers over the years. Lisha dropped down beside me, light on her feet. “Why didn’t she want to marry the sultan? Maybe she needs a woman to keep her…”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Even Lisha’s under her spell? “She fell in love with someone else. A man called Ambar. They were married, but he died…”
“Pity,” she said lightly. “Maybe that rogue djinni of yours will win this one after all.”
I pursed my lips, feeling a scowl settling over my face.
“Jealous, scholar?” Lisha stuck a bony elbow into my ribs before striding off in the direction of the voices.
“He’s a spirit,” I snapped, hurrying after her. “Lalana’s been hurt enough already. She doesn’t need some djinni messing with her heart. She’s very sensitive.” I warmed to my subject, feeling guilty that I hadn’t been more sympathetic yesterday. “Lalana’s not really suited to a life among spirits and thieves. She likes the finer things in life. Always has. And she’s so beautiful and talented, nothing will be denied to her. I’m just not sure she’ll cope–”
My breath rushed out of me.
Up ahead, Lalana and Tarak sat side by side on a pile of embroidered rugs in the middle of the tunnel, the flickering torchlight catching the occasional strand of metallic thread and casting them in a golden halo. Aliyah sat on top of a pile of wooden crates, legs dangling over the side, her elbows resting on her knees as she stared down at the two of them.
The other thieves I knew…Faris, Gadiel, and even the boy, Rafi, who’d first brought me to Aliyah…all hung off the edge of rickety wooden chairs that had been arranged in rows, staring up at my sister in rapt adoration.
“What were you saying, scholar? She looks pretty at home with spirits and thieves to me.” Lisha brushed past me, sauntering up to the group and clapping a hand on Faris’s shoulder before clambering nimbly up onto the pile of crates to join Aliyah.
Too shocked to move for a moment, all I could do was stare at my sister.
“Z!” Rafi raced up to me, grabbing hold of my wrist and dragging me forward. “Isn’t Lana amazing? Tarak’s teaching her a story for the competition. There’s no way she won’t win, is there?”
Numbly, I allowed myself to be dragged over to the group. With a start, I realized there were others sitting around in the shadows, watching my sister with the same quiet admiration as the thieves.
I spotted Mustafa, the merchant I’d met in the Magic Quarter, who lifted his feathered cap with a flash of white teeth against his dark skin. Yerusha, who’d picked out Lalana’s outfit yesterday, keenly watched my sister from a seat in the row in front of him. Even Bahar and his crew were here, playing a game of dice on top of a wooden barrel while shooting sidelong glances at my sister and Tarak. Bahar gave me an exaggerated wink, and I quickly looked away again, heat rising to my cheeks.
“Everyone’s come to help,” Rafi enthused. “Mustafa’s advising on the set, Yerusha on the costume and dance, and Bahar… Well, I don’t think Aliyah would have gotten away with not inviting him. Then we have Samir, who used to train singers for the royal theater, and Harshada, who used to be a traveling minstrel. She’s supposed to be the most amazing lute player. Oh, and Gita, who won the competition three years ago. With all of them here, we can figure out what weaknesses Lana might have, where she needs to improve.”
No one else would know, but I guessed that meant figuring out what wishes Lalana would need to make.
I looked dizzily around the gathered crowd bundled into the dark tunnel. So many people, all trying to help…and Lalana didn’t look the slightest bit bothered by it, smiling enchantingly at anyone who moved to speak shyly to her, laughing at the thieves’ wisecracks, thanking everyone for their kind words.
“Aliyah’s up there.” Rafi pointed up to where I’d already spotted her sitting on top of the crates. “She wants to talk to you.”
I shot a look back at my sister. Should I speak to her before joining Aliyah? But she looked quite comfortable. I could hear snatches of the story Tarak was weaving, about a spirit who’d fallen in love with the princess who’d freed him. He’d traded his name for her immortality and whisked her away to the spirit world, where he’d revealed himself to be a king among the djinn…
Scowling, I stomped over to the crates and clambered up to join Aliyah, wincing as a splinter dug into my hand. Why couldn’t Tarak have been this helpful when I’d first met him? I recalled the cracks about the size of my nose, the way he’d almost let me die…first at the Order of the Scholars, then again when I’d fought the ghuls in the desert. I didn’t notice him trying to trick Lalana into making a deal with him.
Sucking on the splinter in my finger, I sank down in between Aliyah and Lisha, swinging my legs over the side, like they did, and trying to remove the sulky expression from my face.
“She’d better be as good as you say.” Aliyah didn’t look away from Lalana, but she didn’t share the same enraptured expression as Lisha, either. “I’ve called in a lot of favors to make this happen.”
For some reason, I could have cried at the fact the thief queen wasn’t quite as enchanted as everyone else. “I’m sure Lalana appreciates–”
“I’m not doing this for your sister, dummy.” Aliyah’s almond eyes narrowed as she shot me a sidelong look.
A warm feeling spread through my chest. I hadn’t noticed my shoulders tense, but as they relaxed, I felt myself grow calmer.
“Lish.” Aliyah frowned and leaned over me, waving a hand in front of the assassin’s face. “If you’ve finished drooling…”
I was pleased to see the assassin blush. She straightened, tucking a wayward strand of hair back into the crown of braid she always wore wound around her head. “We need to talk about the poison,” she said briskly. “Aliyah thinks you’re right. It makes sense that it was intended for you, not Lalana.”
I looked down at my sister. Tarak delicately removed an eyelash from her cheek, holding his finger up before her so that she could blow it away and make a wish. Smiling, she blew gently on his finger and closed her eyes. The look he gave her while she wasn’t looking was scorching – the kind I sometimes caught Kassim giving me.
I took a deep breath. She’s grieving in her own way. Tarak’s just trying to help.
I returned my attention to the thief at my side. “So, what? What do we do?”
“Lisha’s been trying to track down where the street seller sourced the poison.” Aliyah ran a hand lightly over her tattooed scalp. “Only we don’t even know for certain it was purchased in Kisrabah. It’s a bit more difficult for us to track it down outside of the city…”
“It’s impossible,” Lisha said w
ith a slight edge to her voice. “I know you want to help, Ali, but I’ve tried everything. All our usual contacts.”
Aliyah’s face set. “It’s my fault. I should’ve figured he might still have poison on him…”
“Well, maybe we can try and figure it out without needing to trace the poison?” I hoisted my legs back up on top of the crates, shifting to sit cross-legged. “I’ve definitely got a shortlist already…”
Aliyah listed them on her fingers. “The vizier. The Phoenites. It could even be that Hiduan princess.” She raised an eyebrow as my face turned skeptical. “People have murdered for less, Z. You said it yourself. The Sipparkishi prince Makani’s settling for isn’t exactly a catch. Astaran was the kingdom she really wanted.”
Unsettled by the thought that I might have more enemies than I’d considered, I twisted my hair around my shoulder and began winding it into a messy braid. “I still think it’s most likely the vizier,” I said uncertainly. “She’s the reason I went overboard on The Scarlet Dancer. I know she doesn't want me to marry Kassim, and it seems she’ll resort to murder to make that happen.”
Aliyah shrugged. “Maybe she and Princess Makani are working together.”
My fingers worked faster through my hair.
“In any case, princess, I’m assigning my own guard to look after you until we’ve worked it out.”
My fingers stilled. “What?”
“The Golds did nothing the other day. They aren’t enough to keep you safe. And if that black-clad spymaster had even the faintest clue what’s going on within his own city, that street seller would have never gotten close to you in the first place.”
“Ali,” Lisha said tentatively. “I told you, she might not want us involved.”
The thief queen turned to her with a snarl, then her face broke into a cold smile. “You’re right, Lisha. Now that I think about it, you are making less progress with tracking down the poison than I’d hoped. You can keep an eye on Z, okay?”
I couldn’t tell whether Lisha or I was more horrified.
“R-really, Aliyah,” I stammered out. “I don’t need–”
“What, Rafi?” Aliyah barked.
The young thief waved up to us, hopping up and down. “We’re ready, Ali! Lana’s about to begin!”
My concerns about Lisha being assigned as my new personal guard disappeared immediately. I began unpicking my braid again, my fingers trembling as they fumbled over my thick curls. My stomach felt as tangled as my hair.
Not that I doubted Lalana would be good, but would she be good enough? Her grief over Ambar had obviously affected her. She’d been behaving oddly since she arrived in Kisrabah. My eyes slid to her ruined fingers resting over the bridge of the lute.
She must have made at least one more wish already to be able to play with her broken fingers, even if she was still saving the others for after this ragtag audience had assessed her weaknesses. For the first time, I hoped Tarak really was as smitten as he seemed. He sat right in front of the rows of people assembled to watch my sister, his face somber as his violet eyes ran over Lalana’s frail, solitary figure before us.
There was nothing to suggest he hadn’t granted exactly what Lalana had asked for. But he was still a spirit, and he had willfully misinterpreted my own wishes when I’d first met him…
“C’mon, Z.” Aliyah pushed herself forward, sliding nimbly off the crates and landing lightly on her feet. She looked back up at me and Lisha. “Let’s see how good this sister of yours really is.”
I clambered down after the thief queen, then Lisha dropped down beside me, looking distinctly put out. She reluctantly followed as I made my way to the rows of chairs set out before the makeshift stage, squeezing in between the other guests as I spotted three free seats beside Yerusha.
I sent a fervent prayer to the spirits as I sunk into my chair, hoping that some of them might be less tricky than the ones I had encountered so far. Lalana had to win this. It would secure her a place within the palace, in the perfect disguise, doing the things she loved. She’d be safe there. She’d be with me.
Sweeping my hair back over my shoulder, I pressed my palms together, squeezing them between my knees.
“There, there.” Yerusha reached over and patted my knee. “Don’t fret. Your friend’s beautiful enough that they’ll forgive her a few missed notes.”
I didn’t reply. Lalana had never missed a note in her life.
Mustafa’s voice suddenly sounded right by my ear, and I flinched. “You must come to me when you need new fabrics, Yerusha,” he said cozily, leaning forward so his face appeared between us. “The design of your costumes is impeccable, of course, but with finer quality materials, you could easily become the best provider in the city.”
I subtly leaned away. Mustafa had helped me, telling me how to use the Night Diamond talisman, but I was still certain that had only been because Aliyah had threatened him.
“My sister sources my fabrics,” Yerusha said frostily. “Your eyes must be going, Mustafa, if you think there’s a problem with the quality. And, please, tell me where you think you can find better costumes in Kisrabah?”
Mustafa leaned back hastily, and I suppressed a smirk, suddenly feeling much warmer toward the woman seated beside me.
His head appeared at my other side, and I jumped when his voice sounded again, his breath on my ear. “And how did you get on with the information I provided you, my dear?”
I twisted in my seat. “You gave me as little information as possible.” My brows knitted together. “And how did you know about it anyway? The talisman, the treasure, the ring – how they all linked together?”
Mustafa’s dark eyes dropped to my hand. “I see you’re no longer in possession of said ring.”
I balled my hands into fists, ignoring his observation.
He gave me a knowing smile. “I come from a long line of magical traders. My ancestors specialized in lamps and we’ve always worked very closely with the Astarian royals.”
“Back off, Mustafa.” Next to me, Lisha swatted at the merchant with the back of her hand and he leaned back hurriedly, his rich perfume still hanging around me. I smiled my thanks at Lisha but she just shot me an icy glare.
I hope Aliyah knows what she’s doing, assigning Lisha to be my personal bodyguard…
A few scattered notes resounded through the chamber, and everyone fell silent.
I stiffened, pressing my legs even closer together and squeezing my eyes shut. As difficult as it had been to adjust to Lalana’s arrival in Kisrabah, I loved my sister. She had always been so brilliant. How would she cope if her performance was anything less than perfect? I couldn’t bear to see her humiliated…
The same pattern of notes sounded again, still hesitant.
Even with my eyes closed, I could see Lalana’s ruined hand before me, picturing the way she held the lute, her fingers splayed at odd angles.
How could fixing that possibly be considered a small enhancement? What if Tarak had tried to help her, but it hadn’t worked? What if–
A flurry of notes suddenly filled the chamber, rising up like a soft wind over the desert sand.
Tingles ran down my spine.
The music swelled, surging through the space, the notes running together in a way that made me sigh and sway, a huge, crashing wave that stirred something in my chest, which made me feel sad, quiet, and comforted all at once.
Then she started singing.
Lalana’s pure, sweet voice was hesitant at first, the first call of a songbird in the morning. It rose and fell, easing us into her story, like a hand beckoning us forward to come listen. Then her voice rose again and filled the room, outdoing even the beauty of the music she played on the lute, until there seemed to be no beginning and no end to the sound of Lalana’s voice.
She was just as brilliant as she’d ever been. But her grief seemed to have filled the music with a haunted, sad, soft sound that I was certain I’d never heard before.
The whole room sat sil
ent, spellbound.
Tears spilled from the corners of my eyes.
Thank the spirits.
“Sorcerer’s beard…” Lisha let out a low whistle. “She’s good.”
“Are you sure she wouldn’t consider joining my troupe?” Yerusha asked, wringing her hands together.
I couldn’t speak. Ignoring them both, I opened my eyes and stared at Lalana, transfixed.
Instead of dancing, she sat delicately on a chair in front of a tall, wooden pillar in the middle of the tunnel, leaning forward, the picture of a storyteller welcoming their audience. Her fingers moved so quickly over the bridge of the lute that you couldn’t even see the way they bent out at odd angles. Her wide, dark eyes swept over the audience, seeming to say, Come and listen. Stop and stay a while. Hear what I have to tell you.
And so I really listened to the story, to the tale of the djinni and the princess that Tarak had shared with her.
It was achingly beautiful.
In Lalana’s voice, I had no doubt that the djinni’s love for the princess was true. I had no doubt that they were meant to be together. That it made no difference they could only be together in the realm of smoke and fire. That their love could outlast a thousand and one years.
I suddenly longed for Kassim.
The sound of the lute stopped, and Lalana finished on a long, quavering note, her grief breaking into her voice. Somehow, the imperfection made it all the more powerful.
The room remained still, no one daring to say a word, to break the spell my sister had cast.
I exhaled slowly, wiping the dampness from the corners of my eyes.
Then a knife thudded into the wooden pillar behind Lalana, narrowly missing her head.
Chapter Seven
Time seemed to slow. For a moment, all I could see was the gleam of the knife embedded in the wood, then Lalana’s wide, frightened eyes. The room seemed to hold in a collective intake of breath, stunned into silence by the sudden, sharp sight of a blade slicing through the magic of Lalana’s song.
Princess of Smoke (2020 Reissue) Page 5