by Emma Hamm
The next thing he knew, he’d be finding gray hair at his temples, and he wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest. They were going to drive him to an early grave with all this stress.
A few hours of sleep might help, if he could manage to lay his head down to rest. He didn’t know what kind of dreams would plague him. Still, he was willing to face the guilt of his life if only that meant he could close his eyes for a few moments.
Nadir stood, cracked his back which was suddenly tight, and strode toward the comfortable haven of his bed. The silken sheets would slide over his body in a cool caress. The pillows would hug him as no one had in gods knew how long.
He was so excited to sleep that he almost missed the curtains of his balcony shifting. A smarter person would have tried to make the movement look as though it were the wind. Someone who didn’t want to be found anyway.
Nadir’s shoulders curved forward in defeat. He didn’t want to fight anyone, not tonight when his bed was right there.
Gesturing with his hand, he beckoned the person forward. “I know you’re there. Come out. If it’s an assassination attempt you’re trying, then you could at least be quick about it. I’d like to try and sleep tonight.”
“You’re rather cocky,” a voice wove from the shadows of the balcony. “You might not be sleeping at all, but might find a permanent kind of darkness.”
“Then so be it. I’m not afraid of death and would welcome it at this point in my life. The kingdom might be better for it anyways.” He rubbed the back of his neck, pondering whether or not he should try and tackle the person. It would be so easy to force them to the ground and shout for his guards.
But not nearly as fun.
The curtains shifted again and a woman stepped out of the shadows. Her dark hair had been cleaned since the last time he’d seen her. Smooth and grease-free, the torches reflected off the dark mass until he thought perhaps it swallowed light.
She stared at him with a ferocity he hadn’t seen in a while. Nadir was surprised to see that her eyes weren’t as dark as he remembered. Instead, they were caramel colored. Warm toffee poured over a treat like he hadn’t had since he was just a little boy.
Clearing his throat, he pointed toward the desk. “There’s food and water in the bottom drawer if you need any.”
“Your concubines have already fed me.” Somehow, she made the words feel like an accusation.
“I see they’ve cleaned you as well, and given you clothing that actually fits.” Although, it wasn’t the clothing his concubines would have chosen for her. She was dressed in men’s clothing. White, billowing shirt and wide pants that wouldn’t hinder her movements too much.
What was she doing here? He’d made it very clear that he would deal with her once he wrapped his mind around how to address her situation. The advisors were likely keeping even more of the Beastkin in the dungeons, hidden away from him.
That, in itself, posed a problem. He was supposed to be sending these Beastkin to Sigrid. Regrettably, he hadn’t the time for as many as he liked. When he knew they were going to be burned or killed, he stepped in to save them at the last second.
Never on his own orders of course. There were plenty of people who were sympathetic and who were happy to hide the fact that the sultan was helping them. Some didn’t even know it was he who was the benefactor to their operations.
But this woman… her dark eyes saw much more than most. She stared at him with a mixture of hatred and apprehension, something no other Beastkin had done in the recent months. She looked at him almost as though she were waiting for something.
For him to recognize her? That couldn’t be what it was. He’d never seen her in his life. Nadir would have recognized those dark eyes, the curves that stretched across her form. Wouldn’t he?
He shook his head and then a chuckle slipped from his lips. “You’re escaping, aren’t you?”
“Did you really think your guards could hold me for long?”
“I’ve never had too many complaints about them.” Nadir strode toward his bed and fell into the pillows. He let his body relax for the briefest moment, his muscles easing as his mind relaxed. Looking up from his nest, he jerked his chin toward the balcony. “Go on with it then. I’m not going to stop you.”
“You aren’t?”
If she was surprised, he didn’t really care. Of course he was going to let her go. Nadir had no use for her. Too many eyes were watching him right now for him to get her in contact with someone who would get her across the border. The woman would have to fend for herself.
She seemed perfectly capable of doing just that.
“No,” he replied. “I have no fight with the Beastkin. That’s entirely the advisors who have me by the throat with all their lies and scheming. If you disappear then I have the unique opportunity of blaming one of them, having them beheaded, and replacing them with someone I trust. So please. Go.”
She didn’t reply immediately. Nadir hoped the silence meant she had taken him at his word and slipped out the balcony. It would be better for them both if she disappeared quickly.
Something tapped the wood of his desk. A glass? Gods, the woman was pouring herself a glass of brandy, wasn’t she?
He leaned up and grunted when he saw she was doing exactly that. “That’s expensive.”
“I would hope so. You are the Sultan of Bymere after all.” She tossed the drink back and sighed. “Just as good as I remember.”
“As you remember?” he repeated.
The slave in front of him seemed to change. Her shoulders straightened, her eyes gleamed with a deadly intent, but it was mostly the way her sudden demeanor shifted without a single hesitation that made him realize she wasn’t who she pretended to be.
Nadir took a step toward her, his eyes narrowed and his jaw tight. “Who are you really?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do.” He gestured up and down her body. “This is all clearly an act, and I need more information than just a lie. You aren’t some Beastkin woman they picked up out of the desert and threw into my dungeon. I’d hazard a guess you wanted to be there, though perhaps not for as long as you actually were.”
“You’re asking for a closely guarded secret, little sultan.” She sucked her tongue over her teeth. “But perhaps it’s time for you to know who we are.”
A shiver of distrust and fear ran down his spine. “We is rather ominous. Please don’t tell me there’s another group within Bymere who wants to see me dead. I’m not sure I could survive it.”
“It sounds as if you don't really want to.”
If she’d said the same thing a year ago, he would have agreed with her. Back then, it seemed easier that he slipped away from life. His kingdom would have flourished under a sultan who cared about them. His lands would have overflown with goods aplenty that he couldn’t seem to acquire for his people.
But now? He understood what to do, and how his ideas could benefit those who had less. He didn’t want to give up his chance to make this kingdom better than what it had been before him. He wanted to leave his mark on Bymere so that all would say his name long after his passing.
Old habits die hard, however, and a part of him still whispered that his people and all that he loved would be much better off if he… simply wasn’t there at all.
Shaking his head, Nadir replied, “I say the words, but they don’t have the same meaning as before.”
“Ah,” the Beastkin replied. “Then I should first say my name is Tahira.”
“I remember,” he whispered. The name had been branded into his mind as another to add to a long list of people he should have saved. The guilt burned in his chest, aching every night when he tried to sleep. “You may call me Nadir, if you’re going to tell me some secret I do not know.”
“I’m telling you more than a secret, little sultan. I’m giving you a chance to change the world as you know it.”
How many people had said that to him recently? The world was already
changing. He’d taken the first step the moment he took power back from his advisors and stepped into the role his brother should have had. Did she not see the way the city had rebuilt itself? Did she not see the droves of people who were now flocking to the Red Palace in hopes to see their king?
He tilted his head to the side and asked, “How can I change it more than it already has been changed? The Beastkin might not see the effects of what I’m doing, not yet, but I need a little more time to fix what has been broken.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” She started toward the balcony, then glanced over her shoulder. “Come to Falldell and see where you were wrought.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve always thought your mother was dead, because she died when you were just a boy along with all the people you loved. But there was your real mother who still lived. The one who gifted you the treasure that you are now. She summons you to her side.”
A flash of heat traveled from the top of his head to the bottom of his toes. His mother? He didn’t have a mother, not anymore. She had died from a fever that blistered through her body when he was just a boy. There wasn’t another woman in his life other than the creature who had gifted him a curse, not a treasure.
How dare she suggest there was another? It was an insult to his real mother’s memory. He opened his mouth to give her a scathing reply but was interrupted by her laughter.
“Easy, Sultan. There is more to this life than you know. A mother who loves you is one thing. A mother who is useful and ancient is another entirely. Come to Falldell, let us teach you where you came from, and show you who you really are.”
“I know who I am.”
“Do you?” She lifted a dark brow. Tahira grasped the curtains on his balcony and twitched them open. The starlight beyond framed her dark hair and gave her an otherworldly look, as if she were a djinn who had stepped out of the sands. But this wasn’t a wish he would have made.
He didn’t want this.
Nadir’s lips twisted into a snarl. “You can tell that woman I have no interest in anything she can teach me.”
“We’re going to send someone to take the throne in your place. You’ll need to harm yourself somehow in a way that will force you to hide your face while it heals. Not exactly the best way to hide, but effective in its simplicity.”
“I’m not going to do that.”
“You will.” Tahira stepped beyond the curtain and melted into the darkness. Her voice was all he could hear, but the words were like a lightning bolt to his soul. “The Alqatala of Falldell call upon you, Sultan, to greet them as one of your subjects. Whether you want to see your mother or not, you cannot deny us when we summon you.”
“What?” he stammered, his voice shaking. “The Alqatala of Falldell are a children’s tale. There are no more assassins that can call upon the king, or legendary warriors who protect Bymere.”
No one replied to his shouted question. The Beastkin woman—assassin— was gone.
It wasn’t possible that the Alqatala were real. They were only characters in children’s stories who came out in the middle of the night to right the wrongs of the kingdom. As sultan, he would know if they were real. Someone would have suggested he use them at some point, that he call upon the powers that were far stronger than any army.
Try as he might, he couldn’t really remember the stories. Only that they were terrifying men and women who moved impossibly fast. People used to say they were actually djinn. His brother had tried to capture one by buying a ridiculously expensive lamp from a street vendor who said he’d seized one of the Alqatala within its fluted neck.
Obviously, the man hadn’t done so. They had rubbed the lamp for hours, lit the oil within it, to no avail. Disappointing for boys as they were, but probably for the best. They wouldn’t have known what to do with a legendary warrior such as that.
And his mother?
Nadir purposefully stayed away from the thought. He didn’t want to know there were even more dragons out in the world. The last thing he needed was yet another threat in the kingdom for him to worry about. It wasn’t possible that the woman was alive.
Besides, his father would have taken care of such a threat a long time ago. The woman who had birthed Nadir would have a claim on some portion of the throne if she wished it, although his father had done everything in his power to make sure Nadir would never take the throne. Hakim had been the perfect son, the picture of health, until someone from Wildewyn had killed him.
Shaking his head, Nadir turned toward his bed. In the morning, it would seem like a dream. And if the Alqatala did send someone to take his throne while he traveled, he would turn the man away. That was the smart thing to do. There was no reason for him to do anything else.
He huffed out a breath. “Go to sleep, Nadir,” he told himself. “This will all disappear in the morning with the tail ends of whatever nightmare holds you awake.”
With that, he flopped down on the pillows, shoved his head under a particularly thick carpet, and folded his hands over his chest. The bed was so comfortable it nearly made him weep. He wanted to sleep so badly that his body actually hurt from it.
And yet, he couldn’t fall asleep no matter how much he wanted to. There were too many thoughts dancing in his head.
Was the woman telling the truth? That was his primary concern. If she were lying, then he could dismiss it all. But if she were telling the truth… then he had to do something about it.
He couldn’t go to Falldell. Not when there were so many things he needed to watch over here. He didn’t trust any of his advisors taking the throne, and he certainly didn’t trust some man he didn’t know. This could all be some elaborate ruse to take the throne from him, and what an end that would be.
If she were telling the truth, however, that was almost a bigger problem than he wanted to think about. A mother? Gods, he didn’t know what to do with a woman who wanted to see him only have twenty years of existence.
And then there was the issue of the Alqatala. They could kill him in his sleep if he didn’t do what they wanted, and no one would question their actions.
He sat up and scrubbed a hand down his face.
“Fine,” he muttered. “Sleep evades once again.”
Nadir stood from the bed and left his bedroom without a goal in mind. He needed something that would help him sleep. The healers would have something. Perhaps a draught that would knock him out for a few dreamless hours.
However, he couldn’t go to them. He’d already asked them a few times to help him sleep and they would eventually get suspicious why he was asking so much. No one could think him weak. He was the Sultan of Bymere. There wasn’t a reason for him to have sleepless nights when the kingdom was beginning to prosper once again.
It had only taken three seasons. A remarkable comeback after a war, his advisors said. Even the people whom he spoke with on a weekly basis expressed their appreciation for his abilities. They were happier now than they had been before the war, they promised. That had to account for something.
Something in his gut twisted at the thought. It all seemed too good to be possible, but he didn’t know how to find out whether everyone was telling the truth.
It seemed as though he didn’t know what truth sounded like anymore. He’d lived for nearly his entire life so wrapped up in lies that the world seemed a darker place. It was hard to see in the shadows when everyone around you had them hanging off their shoulders like tendrils of night.
“Sultan?” the librarian’s voice broke through his thoughts. “It’s rather late at night, Your Highness. I hadn’t thought to see you.”
Where was he? Nadir looked around, only to realize he’d somehow ended up at the library. Why was he here?
Looking at the old stacks brought memories of his brother back to the forefront. Hakim had always harped on Nadir, saying that a good king knew the history of his kingdom so that he didn’t repeat the mistakes of sultans past. Nadir hadn’t been that interested i
n reading books. To tell the truth, he hadn’t been all that good at reading. The words sometimes switched on him while he was attempting to read them. Letters shifting and jumping until they created similar words that weren’t quite right.
He rubbed the back of his neck and met the gaze of the librarian before them. The man was older than he remembered, but he did remember him. No one could forget the round spectacles on the man’s nose, or the rather large mole right next to the wire.
“Ah,” he replied, “I hadn’t thought to find myself here either, but thusly I have arrived.”
“Is there something I can help you find?” the librarian asked, looking over the top of his spectacles which unfortunately shifted the mole directly onto the rims. “It’s a rather large library.”
“I think I remember my way around.”
“Take the gloves please.”
The gloves? Nadir looked down at the velvet pieces in the man’s hands as he thrust them out. Why in the world would he wear gloves?
The librarian grunted. “The books are too fragile to be touched. The oils on your hands will ruin them, Sultan. Royal or no, I won’t have you destroying books because you got it in your head to visit after ten years of silence.”
“I could have you beheaded for such insolence,” he replied while taking the gloves.
“And then who would run the library? Better to let me do what I know, and you do what you know.” The man looked down at the book in his hands, sat back down at a desk Nadir hadn’t noticed was there, and ignored the sultan entirely.
He couldn’t really argue with the old man. The librarian was correct. Nadir had always valued people who knew what they were doing, and did their job well. This librarian had been around since before they’d lost his brother, and that said something sincerely important.
The library stretched before him. Shelves more than five men tall stretched up into the ceiling with ladders interspersed, so librarians could reach up to the highest peaks. Those were the less popular books, but from what he’d heard, those were the ones that contained the most secrets.
How did these stacks work again? He should remember simply because his brother had dragged him here so many times, but he couldn’t for the life of him think what system they used. The stacks seemed to loom over him with judgmental weight that made his chest tight.