Please, Tarak. If you’re there, give me a sign…
“Take your time,” the sultan murmured from behind me. “I want you to learn to love Phoenitia as much as I do.”
“It’s breathtaking,” I muttered distractedly, my eyes still glued to the mirror. Come on, Tarak. “It’s utterly different than anything I’ve ever seen in Khiridesh or Astaran. Are there many great craftsmen in Phoenitia?”
“An apt question!” The sultan moved closer, and I stiffened, hoping he didn’t notice my gaze fixed on the ceiling. “You have excellent taste, princess. There are several types of crafts at which we particularly excel in Phoenitia…”
I bit down hard on my lip, trying not to blink as I stared at the mirror, determined not to miss the djinni if he could only appear briefly for fear of being seen by the sultan.
I squinted… There! A faint glimmer of lilac shimmered at the edge of the dome.
I held my breath, worried I’d imagined it.
But then, just for a second, two familiar, violet eyes stared down at me from the middle of the mirror before disappearing again.
Perhaps the sultan was starting to trust me, because the usual guards outside the door to my room had vanished.
My breath came quick as I skirted through the winding corridors of the palace. In the freezing night air, for once I was grateful for the costumes laid out for me by the Phoenitian handmaids. I had selected dark pants and a tunic of a thick, soft material. Perfect for slipping unnoticed through the palace, and warm against the cold.
Reaching another locked door, I wished again that Aliyah hadn’t stolen back her magic key. Picking locks with hairpins was so time-consuming, and with the risk of being caught at any moment, I had to move fast.
Crouching down, I inserted the hairpin and gently maneuvered it until I felt the catch I was looking for, turning the pin with a satisfying click. In some ways, this took me back to my days in my parents’ palace in Satra, when I would sneak out to go riding or visit the city. Of course, if I’d been caught then, the worst I could expect was a scolding. I had no idea what to expect if Iram caught me sneaking through his palace at night, but I was sure it would be worse than a few sharp words.
Squaring my shoulders, I stood upright and eased the door open as quietly as I could. It was a risk, but I had to find out what had happened to Tarak…and whether he could help me.
I slipped silently into the next dark corridor, careful to remain cloaked in shadow but finding it as deserted as the last. Spirits, this palace was quiet. Even when Iram had shown me around earlier, we had run into no courtiers, no guests. His guards materialized from the shadows when called, then disappeared from sight when dismissed. You could almost believe the palace was run by ghosts.
Or maybe sorcerers.
Uneasily, I considered the possibility that I was only able to slip through the palace unheeded because the sultan already knew exactly where I was.
I tiptoed along the corridor, keeping close to the wall. Maybe he did. If that were the case, at least he hadn’t tried to stop me, like he had when I’d tried to climb down to the city below. I hurried on, only stopping when I reached the door to the ballroom.
I hovered outside. Now I would find out the truth about what had happened to Tarak. And, I hoped, would be able to persuade him to tell me where the spirits were kept in the palace.
I reached for the handle and turned it gently, finding it unlocked. Slipping inside, I pulled the door closed behind me and looked up.
The domed mirror caught the moonlight, shining a dazzling silver. Perfectly smooth, it took up almost the entire ceiling, stopping just short of the marble walls, a shining silver surround designed to look like a mountain range holding it in place. I swallowed. Tarak had once told me his power was limited because the ring was so small. If he really was bound to such a huge object, how much power would he have now?
“Tarak?” I whispered. My voice sounded painfully loud, echoing around the silent space. I waited, craning my neck back to look at the mirror. My heart fluttered when there was no response.
I had seen him, hadn’t I? Those purple eyes were unmistakable. Maybe the mirror was like the ring and he couldn’t escape without being summoned. I took a deep breath and tried again.
“Tarak, it’s Zadie. I’m alone.”
I squinted at the bright light of the moon caught in the mirror, desperately looking for even a hint of lilac.
“Zadie…” Tarak’s voice sounded distant, like he was underwater. “Zadie, you shouldn’t be here…”
“Neither should you,” I whispered ferociously, hugging my arms tightly around myself, opening my eyes wider as I looked for any sign of him in the mirror. “What happened, Tarak?” There was still no hint of lilac.
“I…” He paused. “That snake-faced vizier still had spies in the palace,” he said bitterly. “When your sister freed me, I told her my true name...and I was overheard.” Two violet eyes finally appeared in the mirror. Even in the dim light, I could tell they were narrowed. “Hepzibah knows my true name, Zadie, and she told Iram. It’s not like when I was bound to the ring. It doesn’t matter whether I want to obey him or not. I have to do everything he orders me to.”
My heart beat faster. “So why bind you to the mirror?”
“He still has to keep me trapped in this world to give me any orders at all.”
“Oh, Tarak…” My heart broke for him, even as it lifted in relief to discover that he hadn’t betrayed us after all.
“The moment I get out of here,” he seethed, “I’m going to rip that sorceress’s tongue out. Being unable to speak should stop her binding spirits in the future.”
I winced at the uncharacteristic violence in Tarak’s words. “You’re not the only one who has a score to settle with the vizier.”
“Believe me, princess, there’ll be nothing left for you by the time I’ve finished with her.”
“Tarak, I need your help,” I said quickly. He wasn’t going to like my plan, but if he was really angry at the vizier, he might put aside his concerns and help me anyway. “I think I know how to get us out of here.”
“I can’t grant your wishes, Zadie. I’m bound to a part of the palace. And you can’t own the palace without being the ruler of Phoenitia.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I mean, the thing is, Tarak…” I took a deep breath. “You’re not the only spirit in this palace, are you?”
A hissing noise sounded above me, like the djinni had drawn in a breath through his teeth.
I hurried on with my explanation. “If I can find just one of the spirits bound to the lamps from the Cave of Wonders, I’ll have more wishes. I can wish my way out of here…wish us both out of here. Or if they won’t obey my wishes, I’ll make a deal with them like I did with you. You’re working with Sultan Iram now, so maybe you can–”
“Trust me, Zadie, that’s not going to work.”
I glared up at his patronizing tone and crossed my arms over my chest, one foot tapping the floor. “Why not?”
“Because the lamps aren’t in the palace. They’re all at the Order of Smoke, where Sultan Iram has his sorcerers trying to get them to cooperate.” A slightly more cheerful note entered the djinni’s voice. “From what I’ve overheard, it’s not going so well.”
I sucked in my cheeks, my heart beating faster. That made sense. Iram had already told me that his sorcerers were struggling to control the spirits. But that meant my plan was ruined. I sank into one of the chairs at the edge of the ballroom, fighting back the disappointment gnawing at my chest. I had to get out of here. But if I couldn’t use the spirits, or Tarak, then how–
“There’s something else, Zadie.” Tarak sounded hesitant, and I looked up curiously. “You remember the story of why I was trapped in the ring in the first place?”
I nodded slowly. “You sold the Phoenites a book of the spirits’ true names.”
“Right. The Book of Names. Do you remember what was written in that engraving on Hidu? The o
ne that told my story? It said Kassim’s ancestor told the world he’d destroyed the book, but that he actually hid it.”
I frowned. “What does that matter now? It happened a long time ago. If you’re still worried that the spirits might hurt you–”
“Zadie. Listen to what I’m saying.”
My fingers tightened on the edge of my chair. “What?”
“Forget finding the spirits, Zadie. You need to find the book. If you find that, you don’t need to find the lamps. With the Book of Names, you can free the spirits for good and take away Sultan’s Iram’s power.”
I jumped up, pacing around beneath the mirror. “That’s all well and good,” I murmured, “but we have no idea where this book is hidden, and I can hardly start searching for it while I’m trapped in here.”
As I paced, the truth of Tarak’s words started sinking in. The only way to truly stop Iram was to free all the spirits from the lamps.
“I’d still need to find a sorcerer,” I whispered in an excited voice, halting my pacing and looking back up at the mirror, “but if we could free the spirits and destroy the book, it would stop anyone being able to bind them again…”
I spun as a click sounded at the door and it swung open, tendrils of smoke creeping into the ballroom.
My heart thundered in my chest as a tall, dark figure emerged from the smoke.
“Scheherazade.” The vizier’s eyes glittered dangerously. “I knew you couldn’t keep up the pretense of wanting to help Sultan Iram for long.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
I followed the vizier along the winding corridors. The moonlight cast long shadows that clawed at me as we hurried through the palace. I usually didn’t have a problem keeping up with people, since I was so tall, but the vizier was so gleeful at having caught me with Tarak that she flew through the corridors like one of the winged serpents Iram had told me about. I stumbled over my own feet in my haste to keep up. She didn’t bother looking back to see whether I was still following her.
I supposed she didn’t need to. I already knew it was pointless trying to run. When she’d come to my chambers before, the vizier had made it very clear what power she held.
Even if I somehow managed to escape her, I’d already seen how impossible it was to try and escape the palace. Not to mention that running was as good as confessing. I still needed Iram to think I was on his side.
My best bet was to follow the vizier…and use the time to think on what, exactly, I was going to tell the sultan.
It was difficult to think, though, as we rushed from corridor to corridor, strange carvings and statues seeming to leap from the shadows as we passed. I grew breathless trying to keep pace with the vizier.
She finally halted outside a grand, silver door, two braziers casting a golden pool of light around the doorway. Two guards lifted their chins in greeting.
The vizier barked something in Phoenitian, and one of the guards jerked a thumb toward the door. She cocked her head to one side in an exaggerated gesture of listening. I frowned in confusion. A strange, haunting music was just audible from behind the door, the sound swelling and falling as the same piece was repeated over and over again.
A pained look came over the vizier’s face, but she muttered something at the guards. They stepped aside to let us pass, although their eyes narrowed when they realized who I was.
The moment I stepped through the door, I stopped. Here, in this huge, round room, thick carpets lined the floor, lanterns studded the walls, and furniture was dotted about. The sultan’s private quarters. Again, I considered how similar this was to Kassim’s chambers – ceremonial swords hung high on the walls, maps unrolled across tabletops, carafes of wine arranged on one tabletop – but the subtle differences spoke volumes.
Where Kassim hung the paintings Safiyya and I had created, here were more of the imposing silver statues. Low, comfortable divans laden with cushions filled Kassim’s chambers, where he, Namir, and Elian relaxed and discussed palace business. In here, the chairs were wooden.
“What are you staring at?” the vizier snapped. Her cold hand closed around my arm, clamping down harder than was necessary and dragging me on.
As I followed behind the vizier, the repetitive swell of the music grew even louder, and a prickle of anxiety crept up my spine. It seemed strange to keep repeating the same passage over and over.
Maybe it’s to help the sultan sleep?
The vizier halted outside a pale wooden door and rapped her knuckles. The music stopped abruptly.
The door creaked open, revealing the gaunt face of Sultan Iram. “Hepzibah,” he said, and something about the way he said her voice sounded like a caress. “We shouldn’t–”
He stopped abruptly when his gaze drifted to me, his eyes wide.
I frowned. They shouldn’t what? I looked suspiciously between Iram and the vizier. Just how well did they know each other before she left for Astaran?
The vizier’s cheeks turned pink. “Forgive me for interrupting, Your Imperial Majesty.”
Iram stepped back, opening the door wider.
There was no one else inside. Just a solitary wooden chair in front of another floor-to-ceiling window, a stringed instrument to one side of it.
The vizier shoved me inside, and I stumbled forward. Shooting me a glare, she turned to the sultan. “I caught her sneaking back into the ballroom to commune with the spirit.”
I shot her a look, brows furrowed. Commune? What an odd way to put it.
Iram’s gray eyes fixed on me, one hand rising to his chin.
“I’m sorry, Iram, but I did try to warn you. This girl cannot be trusted. She should not be treated like an honored guest when she behaves like a guilty prisoner. As I said from the onset, she ought to be kept under lock and key.”
The sultan drifted back to the chair by the window and picked up the instrument, his long fingers slowly tracing a pattern over the bridge, then plucking at the strings in a fast, fluid movement. Once again, he played only the same short snatch of music over and over again.
“It helps me think,” he said slowly, seeing me looking.
The vizier pursed her lips. “Iram, you do not owe Scheherazade any kind of explanation. I implore you–”
“Please, Hepzibah. I just told you, I’m trying to think.”
The vizier fell silent and shot me a scathing look.
While the vizier brooded and the sultan played, I did my best to think, too, digging my thumbnail into the pad of my forefinger. The vizier had seen me talking to Tarak, so I couldn’t deny that I had been there to see him.
Suddenly, the music stopped. Iram let out a heavy sigh. “You’re right, Hepzi. I had hoped–”
“Don’t you want to know why I was speaking with Tarak?” I blurted.
Iram turned curious gray eyes to me.
“No,” the vizier said sharply. “We do not want your excuses–”
When Iram held up a hand, the vizier turned a deeper shade of red, her voice growing shrill. “Iram, this girl–”
“Hepzibah,” he snapped.
The vizier cast her eyes down to the floor.
“Please, Princess Scheherazade,” the sultan said in a strained voice. “Enlighten me.”
I ran a tongue over my dry lips. “I… I saw the djinni when we danced earlier.”
The vizier’s head snapped up as I mentioned our dance.
“You asked me for my help with the spirits… Well, Tarak always helped me in the past. I thought he might be able to help me understand the problem you’ve been having and what we might do to fix it. What better source of information on the spirits than to consult the spirits themselves? I apologize for approaching him the way I did, but I knew you wouldn’t consent to me speaking to Tarak if I asked.”
There was a long silence, until the vizier could contain herself no longer. “Iram, this is prepos–”
“And he did help me,” I said quickly. “I know what you need to do, Iram. And I’m willing to help you.”
&
nbsp; The sultan picked up the instrument again, his fingers slowly running over the strings.
I swallowed. I was about to gamble with the most valuable information I had. I just had to hope the sultan’s desire to work with me was real…and that he might still think me valuable since I had persuaded Tarak to help me.
“What could the spirit have possibly told you?” the vizier scoffed.
I took a steadying breath and forced myself to look Iram in the eye. “If you want to control the spirits, to truly have power over them, you need to find the Book of Names.”
The sultan’s pale face turned even paler and he stopped playing again. “The Book of Names… But the book was destroyed.” Twisting around, he looked at the vizier. “Right, Hepzi?”
The vizier’s jaw clenched, her face contorted in an expression of stunned fury. “I believe so,” she said finally.
“The book was never destroyed,” I insisted. “I read about it at the Cave of Wonders. And Tarak just told me that’s the only way to control the spirits.”
Silence hung heavy in the air.
I swallowed. I have to persuade Sultan Iram to let me help find the book…and use it before he does. I prayed to the spirits that my gamble would pay off.
Iram stood from the chair and walked up to me, stopping just inches from my face. “Why?” His expression was hungry. “Why the sudden change of heart?”
I didn’t look away. “I never wanted to marry the Sultan of Astaran. As you’re aware, he was supposed to marry my sister. I was forced to take her place beside him when she married another. All I really wanted was to be sultanah.”
“Iram,” the vizier said, her tone increasingly high. “The girl is lying. She loves Kassim–”
“No, I don’t,” I said, my heart twisting at the lie. I glared at the vizier, daring her to contradict me. “From the moment Kassim collected me from Satra, he made it very clear he didn’t think a sultanah should rule alongside her husband. I never told Kassim about the djinni I wore on my finger. I used my wishes to strengthen my position in the palace.”
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