Parisa called back to the others, “We can trust this one. If she brings us the simorgh’s feather, we will stand with her and the humans against the Shahmar.” She turned to the other pariks. “Does anyone disagree?”
The other pariks all shook their heads. “No, Parisa. We trust your judgment,” the bat-winged parik said.
“We must leave this clearing at once.” Parisa turned back to Soraya. “You will return to Arzur, of course.”
Soraya swallowed down the lump in her throat. It was unthinkable that she should leave behind the freedom of the forest and the open sky to crawl back inside that prison of a mountain. But she nodded, accepting the task she had given herself.
Parisa looked to Parvaneh now. “When you have the feather, you know where to find us.”
The pariks all began to move deeper into the forest, and Soraya watched them go with a feeling of loss she didn’t quite understand.
When they were alone, Parvaneh said, “Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t have the feather anymore?” There was no anger or resentment in her tone, only curiosity.
Soraya turned to face her. “I didn’t know if you would keep helping me if you knew. Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t welcome among the pariks?”
“I didn’t know if you would give me the feather if you knew,” Parvaneh answered.
Standing face-to-face, it was almost as if they were in the dungeon again, trading pieces of the truth through the bars. “Why did they cast you out?” Soraya asked.
“I made an error in judgment that they still haven’t forgiven me for. They were lenient with me because of my age.”
“I thought divs didn’t age,” Soraya said with surprise.
A weak smile crossed Parvaneh’s face. “Not as humans do. I was never a child, but at that time, I was the most recent parik to emerge from Duzakh. By div standards, I’m not much older than you are.” Before Soraya could ask anything more, Parvaneh continued hastily, “We shouldn’t linger here, either.”
She set out in the direction they had come from, leaving Soraya with no choice but to follow.
The forest felt less liberating to her now that it was the path back to her prison, but still, Soraya tried to absorb it into her memory, breathing in the smell of wet soil. She hoped one day she could come back here in the sunlight.
“Thank you,” Parvaneh said, breaking the silence between them. She kept her eyes ahead of her as she continued. “Not just for freeing them, but for what you said. What you offered. It’s a dangerous task you’ve given yourself.”
“There’s not much else I can do,” Soraya muttered as she tried not to trip over her dress. “I’m not strong enough to fight a div, I can’t see in the dark, I’m not even—”
She tripped over a root, but Parvaneh caught her before she fell. Soraya straightened, but Parvaneh didn’t move away, still holding Soraya’s arms. “You’re not even what?” she asked.
Soraya had spoken without thinking, but now she faced the truth directly. I’m not even poisonous anymore, she had meant to say. But when she tried to say it aloud, her throat closed up. She had betrayed her family to be rid of that curse; she had no right now to mourn its absence.
But Parvaneh heard the words anyway. “You miss it now, don’t you?”
The lump in Soraya’s throat began to loosen at hearing the truth from someone else’s voice. Why was it that all of her secrets came to light whenever she was alone with Parvaneh? Was it her, or was it the darkness, the feeling of being so far from her old life that anything seemed permissible—or forgivable?
“You must think me such a fool,” Soraya said, her voice wavering. “You warned me, but I didn’t believe you. And yet I believed him. I trusted him so completely.”
Parvaneh’s hands tightened around her arms, and her eyes flashed in the darkness. “He gave you reason to trust him—and then he abused that trust. Don’t waste your anger on yourself. Save it for him.” Her hands fell away, and she stood there for a moment, watching Soraya before she stalked off in a different direction. “Follow me!” she called back.
Soraya quickly followed, not wanting to lose sight of Parvaneh in the dark forest. “Where are we going?”
Parvaneh slowed down for Soraya to catch up and said in an impassioned flurry, “You’ve lived your whole life with this curse because of him, and you can’t even enjoy yourself once you’re free of it because of him. Why should you suffer for what he did?”
Parvaneh stormed ahead again, and Soraya followed, muttering to herself, “But where are we going?”
Somewhat abruptly, Parvaneh stopped, and Soraya nearly collided with her. Parvaneh sniffed the air, put her hand on a nearby tree, and nodded. “Hornbeams,” she said. She led Soraya a little farther ahead, into a patch of moonlight that managed to pierce through the canopy. “Wait here,” she said, and then walked over to one of the trees. Hornbeams, she had said. Soraya looked around at the not-quite-identical trees around her, all of them with thick, sinewy trunks.
When Parvaneh returned, her hands were sticky with tree sap. “Roll up your sleeves.”
Soraya considered questioning her, but something about the excited glow of Parvaneh’s eyes and their sudden rush through the forest made her want to play along. She rolled up the sleeves of her dress, which were hopelessly dingy by now, and said, “Now what?”
“Hold out your arms.”
Soraya obeyed, her stomach already flipping in anticipation, because she could guess what would come next. Parvaneh stepped forward and brushed her hands along the insides of Soraya’s forearms, and Soraya’s entire spine straightened at once, her breath catching in her throat. “What are you doing?” she said in an exhale.
“Hush,” Parvaneh said. “You’ll see.”
Once Soraya’s forearms and her palms were coated with tree sap, Parvaneh stepped away, leaning her back against the nearest tree trunk. “Now wait,” she whispered.
Ordinarily, Soraya might have felt ridiculous standing in the middle of a forest with tree sap on her outstretched arms. But the forest was alive. She felt it pulsing all around her. And so she knew she wasn’t simply standing, but waiting, with arms open to embrace whatever envoy the forest was about to send to her.
She didn’t have to wait long. She heard it first—a fluttering sound that seemed to come from the air—and then something tickled her arm. When she looked down, she saw a gray-brown moth settled on her left forearm, wings opening and closing leisurely.
Soraya barely breathed, afraid she would scare it away—or worse, that it would go still and fall dead to the ground, as that first butterfly did so many years ago. But her skin was covered in tree sap, not poison, and so the moth didn’t die, and soon it was joined by others. One—two—a third that landed on the very center of her palm. To them, she was no different from one of the trees, a source of nourishment and life, not death or destruction. Soraya laughed, and her eyes went blurry with tears.
Now she understood why Parvaneh had brought her here. Here in the forest, far enough away to forget about Azad and the divs and her family, Soraya allowed herself to enjoy the absence of her curse without guilt or complication. She would return to Arzur, and she would find the simorgh’s feather, and she would help save her family—but for now, she would marvel at the brush of moth wings against her skin.
She looked up at Parvaneh, suddenly self-conscious. Parvaneh was still leaning against a tree trunk, her arms crossed over her chest, watching Soraya with a small smile on her lips. It was the first time Soraya remembered seeing her smile in earnest, and she wondered if the same was true for her, if this was the first time she had seen Soraya genuinely smile.
“Thank you,” Soraya called to her. The words felt weak compared to the gratitude she felt.
Parvaneh came over to her, moving slowly so as not to startle the moths. As she approached, Soraya felt a strange kind of fluttering in her stomach, as if one of the moths had flown inside. It reminded her of something—something she hadn’t felt sinc
e she was a child.
“In the dungeon, I used to like making you angry,” Parvaneh said. She reached down to scoop up one of the moths and held it up to her face, brushing its wing against her cheek with a tenderness that only worsened the fluttering in Soraya’s stomach. Parvaneh let the moth fly away and looked Soraya in the eye. “But I think I like making you laugh even more.”
“Why did you like making me angry?” Soraya asked in mock offense.
Parvaneh grinned and swept aside Soraya’s hair, her fingers brushing Soraya’s cheekbone. “To see your veins, of course,” she said. Her hand moved down to trace the dull claw mark on Soraya’s collarbone with her fingertips. “I always thought you … I thought they were beautiful.”
The fluttering—she had felt it before. Not with Azad, though he had ignited a fire of his own, as sudden and scorching as lightning. This was more like the gradual, steady warmth of a summer day, a heat that spread all the way down to the tips of her fingers and her toes. She remembered that day—not summer, but spring—lying on the grass beside Laleh, feeling that fluttering as she told Laleh she wished she could marry her. Then Laleh had laughed, and it had died away, never to return.
But she felt it now, and when Parvaneh lifted her eyes to meet Soraya’s, neither of them was laughing.
Parvaneh’s hand was still curled against Soraya’s collarbone, and she was standing so close that Soraya felt her breath warm against her face. She was so keenly aware of all these points of contact—skin, breath, gaze—but most of all she was aware of the way her pulse slowed and quickened at the same time, giddy yet languorous.
Speak, Soraya willed herself. But she felt like she was lost in a maze, unsure how to find her way out. Deep at the center of the maze was the truth she didn’t want to acknowledge, that she had cared for Azad, and he had betrayed her so terribly that she had been unsure she would ever trust her heart again. In a way, it was a relief to know that the feel of Parvaneh’s fingers brushing along her skin could still stir something in her—it meant Azad was not her only choice, her only chance.
Speak. She could say that she had come to treasure their conversations in the dungeon, even if they had made her angry, because they were the only time she had ever fully allowed herself to drop all pretense and be herself. Or that now she realized it wasn’t the dungeon that had given her a strange sense of refuge all this time, but Parvaneh herself, with whom she had been even more honest than she had with Azad.
Speak—but it was Parvaneh who spoke first.
“We shouldn’t dwell much longer,” she said, looking up with concern at the lightening sky.
The moths had all flown away by now, and Soraya rolled down her sleeves. The sap was still sticky on her arms, but she could use the jug of water in her cavern to wash them later.
Parvaneh led her back in silence, stopping at the mouth of the hidden tunnel to drape the cloak over both her and Soraya. When they found her room, Parvaneh removed the cloak and told Soraya to hide it in case she needed it again.
“I’ll return tomorrow at dawn,” Parvaneh said. She looked around the room, forehead wrinkled in concentration. “Here.” She went to the table and lifted the candelabra. “If he leaves again and it’s safe for us to talk, keep the light on this end of the table. If he hasn’t gone, or if it isn’t safe for any reason, move it to the other end of the table.”
Soraya nodded, twisting the fabric of the cloak in her hands. She didn’t want Parvaneh to leave her alone here again, but she had made a promise—to her mother, to the other pariks, to Parvaneh—and she didn’t intend to break it.
There was nothing left to be said, but Parvaneh lingered, looking at Soraya with concern. She came toward her, rested one hand on Soraya’s shoulder, and kissed Soraya’s cheek. “Until tomorrow,” Parvaneh said, her lips brushing the corner of Soraya’s mouth as she spoke. Before Soraya could react, Parvaneh was gone, a moth similar to the ones in the forest fluttering in the air where she used to be.
Soraya watched her go through the gap between the door and the wall, and gently touched her cheek. Even after everything she had seen—demons and sorcerers and curses—there was nothing more astonishing or magical to Soraya than being able to touch Parvaneh.
20
Exhaustion set in, allowing Soraya to sleep before Azad’s return. She woke to the scent of cooked meat, and found that the fruit on the table had been replaced by a plate of skewers and warm bread. It unnerved her to know that someone had come and gone without her knowledge, but she still ate ravenously, assured now that Azad didn’t plan to starve her into submission.
She didn’t know how much longer it would be until his return, but in the time she had, she formed a plan. She couldn’t ask Azad directly about the feather without making him suspicious, and so she would have to approach the topic from a different path.
Pacing around the room, she rehearsed the words in her mind, until finally she heard a rap at the door. How courteous of him, she thought dryly.
As soon as he entered—as himself, not human—he frowned at her. “Your dress,” he said.
Soraya looked down at the pale turquoise gown she had first put on the morning of the wedding. By now, it was filthy—the hemline ragged and completely black, the arms and torso stained and torn in places. Her hair was probably a nightmare too. She would have changed before he’d arrived if she’d had the option, but as it was, she didn’t think he would suspect the grime came from the forest instead of the mountain. She faced him boldly and said, “I don’t know what you expected. You’ve given me no opportunity to change or bathe since stealing me away.”
He was draped in a robe of purple brocade himself, stolen from the royal wardrobe she had no doubt, and the contrast between his splendor and her disheveled appearance apparently disturbed him. “I’ll remedy this,” he promised. “For now, though, I’ve assured your mother that you’re alive and in my care.”
Soraya didn’t know if he meant this as a kindness or a taunt, but her heart sank a little imagining her mother’s reaction to that news. Every choice Tahmineh had made, misguided or not, had been for the purpose of keeping Soraya away from the Shahmar, and now she would think it had all come to nothing. She wanted to tell him what a monster he was, to wound him in some way in return for her own pain, but she reminded herself of her plan to gain his trust, and she held her tongue—she had plenty of practice doing so.
But still, she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “And my brother?”
He crossed his arms and said, begrudgingly, “Still alive. For now.”
“Thank you,” she said, her relief audible. “Truly, I’m thankful, and … I’m relieved to see you again.”
He smiled, but there was a spark of suspicion in his eye. “Are you?”
“You knew I would be,” she said. “You left me here with no company, no occupation, except to think of you and wish for your return.”
He took a step closer to her. “And have you thought of me?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.
Soraya ducked her head and nodded. Was I this easily fooled as well? she wondered. She was thankful now for the lesson he had taught her in those early days together—that if you told people what they most wanted to hear, they would almost certainly believe you.
“I keep remembering what you said to me before—that there isn’t much difference between who you are now and the young man you once were. The young man I knew.” She glanced up at him shyly, thinking of the way he had been so hesitant in those early days, feeding her lies while making her think she was drawing them out of him. “I want to know more about him,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.
He was watching her warily, eyes slightly narrowed, as if trying to determine whether she was leading him into a trap. But then he simply said, “Come with me,” and turned for the door.
She followed at once, remaining close to his side as he led her back out into the tunnels. It was too much to assume that he would take her to the feather at once, but if she could
keep him on the topic of his lost humanity, she hoped he would mention the feather himself in time.
As he led her down the winding path through the mountain, he said, “I forgot to ask you something. Do you remember the div that was locked up in the dungeon at the palace?”
Soraya’s step faltered only slightly. “Of course I remember. You planted her there, didn’t you?”
“I did, but when I went back to retrieve her, she was missing. When did you see her last?”
She tried to push away the memory of Parvaneh’s hair shining in the moonlight, of her lips brushing the corner of Soraya’s mouth, as if Azad might somehow be able to read her thoughts. “The night we went to the dakhmeh,” she answered. “She must have escaped after I … after the fire went out.”
“Yes, I would have assumed the same, except for the esfand burning in the dungeon.”
Soraya kept pace with his stride and said nothing.
“And you’re sure you haven’t seen her since before the fire went out?”
Soraya nodded.
“How interesting,” Azad continued in a voice like silk. “Then either the pariks have found a way to resist the effects of esfand, or they have a human helping them.”
Soraya abruptly halted, forcing Azad to stop and look back at her. “Are you accusing me of something? Please let me know what it is you think I’ve been able to do while tucked away in the room you put me in, unable to leave without fear of losing my life.” The words came out harsher than she intended, but the only way she could think to avoid his suspicion was to face it directly.
He held her gaze, then shook his head and kept walking. When Soraya was at his side again, he said, “No, I suppose you couldn’t have done anything. But if you see her or if she comes to you, let me know at once.”
She didn’t respond, hoping he would take her silence as agreement.
“Turn left here,” he said after they had continued a little longer. They went down a different passage and stopped at a door in the wall. But unlike the door to her room, this one was pure metal, with no space between the edges of the door and the wall. The door also had a keyhole, which Azad used the tip of one claw to unlock.
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