by Lucy Tempest
“What do you mean?” Cherine shook violently as she avoided the ghoul’s head.
“You said it was a man with red eyes,” I said. “These things have no eyes, noses or anything to say they are men or women.”
“Then what was it?”
“A lost palace guard maybe?”
I heard Ayman mumble, “What are you doing?”
I patted his armor, which rang loud enough to conceal my response. “Doing you a favor.”
Cherine moved to Ayman’s left, linking her arm with his, to walk alongside us while facing away from Cora’s morbid trophy. “You found the necklace! Where was it?”
My exhaustion doubled at the question. “The last place I wanted to look. It almost killed me to find it. Literally.”
“Tell me all about it on the way back to Sunstone. It looks like you’ve had quite the adventure,” she babbled excitedly. “We could commission a poet to commemorate it in a dramatic fashion and distribute it at court.”
My focus made a jarring swerve when Loujaïne gripped Cyrus by the shoulders. “What were you thinking?”
“What was I thinking?” he huffed mirthlessly. “You’re the one who brought them here, knowing how witches respond to slights.”
“They came to do one simple thing. The thing they will do as princess and queen when they speak on your behalf—be courteous and accommodating to butter up negotiations. That it went so far out of control is not my fault.”
“You’re the one who accused me of having no foresight by calling this search.” His voice hardened, brimming with leashed anger. “Where was your foresight in this situation?”
“That is not the issue here. You’re the crown prince, our only prince, and you put yourself in danger. And for what? The guards would have gotten them later.” She advanced to cup his face and stroke his hair, like an anxious mother fussing over her wayward child as she scolded him.
But Cyrus hadn’t run down the stairs or pulled a wild dog’s tail, he had charged into a lethal situation with only one guard to back him up.
“‘Ameti, we couldn’t afford to wait. They were close to dying by the time we reached them.” Cyrus didn’t dodge her fussing, tried to soothe her with more familiarity than usual. “We had an idea where they were and knew what lived there. You couldn’t have expected me to wait for next morning to bring piles of guardsmen.” He touched her hands before carefully removing them. “If we waited we would have been holding a funeral for two empty coffins.”
“He’s safe.” Farouk laid a comforting hand on her shoulders, turning her away from Cyrus. “They’re all safe, and that’s all that matters.”
Ayman came to stand behind him. Loujaïne’s eyes went to Ayman first, then to me, or my throat more likely.
But if she’d initially opened her mouth to comment on the necklace, she put it aside to ask what had been on my mind. “Where were they exactly and how did you know of it?”
Cyrus only said, “Mount Alborz, near the Gulf.”
Both Loujaïne and Farouk stiffened, but it felt for different reasons. Farouk’s was a more general cringe, like he’d only heard of it. Loujaïne appeared to be reliving a haunting memory.
I repeated a variation of his aunt’s question. “How did you know to find us in that place?”
Cyrus and Ayman shared a quick look. Cyrus tapped his fingers on his axe’s blade. “We may or may not have been there before.”
Loujaïne’s unease seemed to turn to nausea, her olive skin tinged with green in the lights of the city and carriage lanterns. “Do I want to know how or why?”
“The ‘how’ part isn’t important.” Cyrus shrugged. “As for the ‘why’—we were looking for something.”
“When was that?” she pressed.
“When we were still in Almaskham. Prince Salman’s wife told us about a simurgh that built its nest above that mountain, guarding its lost souls and hidden horrors, so we had to see it for ourselves. When Marzeya said she’d thrown them into a mountain of forgotten nightmares, I thought it had to be that one, and thankfully, I was right.”
“And what did you see the first time and this time as well?” Loujaïne persisted, anger climbing.
“This.” Cora swung the ghoul’s head at Loujaïne, ripping a petrified scream from her.
Guffaws blew across the dunes and Marzeya appeared with a flash, white hair braided with a silk, black scarf, eyes like red-hot coals. “You girls have proven to be far more entertaining that I thought you’d be.”
Farouk stepped before Loujaïne and Ariane, arms out to shield them as Marzeya approached, humming joyously, red skirt and sleeves fluttering in the nighttime breeze.
“You though,” she said to Ariane. “Proved to be quite silly and tame. Shame, I always thought redheads to be vivacious and adventurous.” She stopped before us, addressing Cora first. “You, on the other hand, I have to wonder, what would it take to scare something like you?”
If she had objected to being referred to as something, Cora didn’t show it. She gave the witch her usual bland expression and drawled, “Can’t you tell? I thought you saw right through all of us.”
“Second sight has its limitations, dearie,” Marzeya said fondly. “These boys knew of the mountain and what slumbered within it, but did you?”
Cora shrugged. “What does it matter?”
Marzeya bared her sharp teeth in a knowing grin. “Not now, but as with all choices, it will matter later.”
Looking annoyed, Cora cocked her head. “Meaning?”
Marzeya blinked slowly and her pupils constricted, like a snake’s. “When War shakes the heavens and the Wind uproots you from fields to shores to aeries, follow the poppy trail beneath the earth. And when you embrace the darkness, your iron will be forged as your crown.”
Cora crossed her arms, holding the head like a lantern, the only shift to her expression a raised eyebrow. “I thought only fairies spoke in riddles.”
“It’s not a riddle, dearie. It’s a promise.”
Though I wanted my own answers from Marzeya, I started when she snapped her head in my direction. “I see you found the necklace.”
“No thanks to you,” I said, sounding a lot braver than I felt. “You said you would leave it for me.”
“And I did. I also said you would perform a task to obtain it, as you offered to do.” The witch held the biggest sapphire, tilting it to watch the starburst crossing the stone. “Don’t look so glum, I’ve done you a favor.”
“A favor? How is making me almost drown myself a favor?”
Marzeya gave me a smug smirk. “In the future many of your problems will look manageable, or even easy, in comparison to what you experienced today.” She checked behind me. “As for the princess, I just wanted to teach her a lesson.”
“If anything, you reinforced her beliefs about you,” I hissed, the heat not just from my climbing fever, but from my frustration with her.
“Good. It will teach her to be more diplomatic with things like me. No good ever comes from attacking those more powerful than you.” At that, she met my eyes in an intent stare, playing with the ring on her finger. “You first need to reach their level through new means, so you can surprise them before defeating them.”
Was she telling me something? Answering some of my questions in that aggravatingly indirect way of hers?
She was right in a sense. Dealing with her and her wrath, a far older and stronger witch, made Nariman less scary to me.
As for the last thing she’d said, it did solidify my ideas about how to deal with Nariman. I had to have something to give me the power I lacked. Something Nariman wouldn’t expect. Which wouldn’t be the lamp. If the king had used it against her, it was likely she now knew how to resist or deflect its magic.
It brought me back to the choices presented to me in the dream. If it were real, I would choose the ring, and have it bring me the lamp—and the dress.
There was still so much I wanted to ask Marzeya. About opening a portal to Arbore
for me to find the Fairborns. About Nariman, about my mother—and about myself. If my mother had been a witch, did that mean I could do magic?
But all those questions would betray my lies.
Forgoing my burning questions, I asked, “Where would one find that kind of power?”
“Finding power isn’t the issue. It’s learning how to use it.”
I held back a groan. Vague answers were worse than none. But she wasn’t going to make this easy for me.
To avoid Marzeya, Loujaïne, Farouk, Cherine and Ariane were now huddled by the carriages, and Cyrus had gone to them. They were talking. Arguing. The ones close enough to hear me were Cora and Ayman. I now didn’t mind Cora knowing everything, but Ayman would tell Cyrus.
“Did you tell Cora her future?” I asked.
“In a way.” Marzeya smirked, eyes glowing in the falling darkness. Cora curled her lip in a silent snarl. “Would you like to hear yours?”
“Yes.”
She tilted her head and stared, not at me but through me, eyes pulsating like twin, burning coals in a bed of ashes. “You’ll find all the answers you seek, but not before you cross the wastes into the realm of a thousand doors. No matter what you find beyond each door, do not leave the path beneath the peaks. Only through appeasing your foe will you know peace.”
What could any of that mean? It sounded like pure nonsense to me.
“You can’t be more specific, can you?”
“Now where would be the fun in that?” Her eyes flit to Ayman. “How about you, the prince’s pale shadow? Your distant past is more intriguing than your near future.”
“Why is that?” he asked, neutral, quiet.
A humorous glimmer fluttered the heat in her eyes. “Let’s just say that you’ll come to a standstill.”
He didn’t comment on or question her claim. When she flicked her hand, dismissing us, he just nodded once and carried me past her. I watched her and Zhadugar shrink from over his shoulder.
Marzeya lazily turned to wave at me. “Goodbye, and remember, don’t go through any of the doors.”
The only way she made sense was if she was talking about what I’d just gone through. That I had crossed the wasteland that was the mountain, and the realm of a thousand doors was Sunstone, or even its palace. Appeasing my foe to know peace—I hadn’t appeased Fairuza, only kept her alive. Which left Nariman.
If—when—I found the lamp, I had to give it to her. But I’d try anything to stop her from using it. That didn’t sound so appeasing.
When Ayman set me inside the carriage, Cyrus came to see me off and I caught his arm. “Thank you, for coming for us. You didn’t need to, but you did.”
“I couldn’t lose you.” He put a hand over mine. “If it were up to me, you’d outlive Marzeya, or at least me in our very old age.”
Had I wanted to smother my smile, I couldn’t have. Brimming with adoration, it spilled out into a dreamy, croaking laugh. “I didn’t know you liked having me around that much.”
“Ada.” He gripped my hand with both of his, shaking them, making a passionate point that traveled down my arm and flared up to my tight throat. “You came into my life like a summer storm, upended my expectations and scattered them to the four winds. But by the gods, you’ll stay through the winds of all the seasons of my life.”
The passion he expressed had me overcome with emotion. It was all I wanted, too, to be with him ever after.
Still, half of me still hoped to land back where I’d come from. And if I achieved my mission, I would.
“What if I leave with the west wind?” I whispered.
He grinned at me. “Then I’ll chase you like a madman at sea.”
My laugh came out more of a sob this time. “How do you chase the winds?”
“With magic, I suppose.” He let go of my hand, jumping off the carriage steps. “This is likely the worst time to ask, but how goes the search for your gold lamp?”
I gaped at him. “You remember!”
“You think I’d forget the very reason we met?”
“When you put it that way…”
He chuckled, waving it off. “Don’t worry, I have people looking for it.”
Gratitude and concern butted heads within me. “You do?”
“I’m close to finding that ring, too, I think.”
“Cyrus, how can I ever thank you?”
“By spending all of tomorrow resting, then meeting me the day after.”
I wanted to drag him back, embrace and kiss him. But I couldn’t yet, not without causing problems we could both do without. I wanted nothing to rock the boat now I had options.
I doubted he’d find the lamp where I believed it was. But if I won, which was looking more possible now, I would be welcomed by the king into his quarters, where I’d swipe the lamp and carry out my original plan. And if Cyrus found me the ring, I might have the means to form a new plan, one where I didn’t have to choose between the lives of the Fairborns and a life with Cyrus.
New possibilities were a luxury I hadn’t dreamed of before, even if each came with a mountain of uncertainty and risk.
But so what? Like Marzeya had said, nothing could be worse than the nightmare Fairuza had pulled me into.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The ghouls were chasing Bonnie, Fairuza and I through the Hornswoods.
We didn’t get far before Marzeya’s black-nailed hands broke through the earth and dragged us back to the mountain.
I watched in horror as Cyrus and Ayman failed their rescue and were ripped apart before me. Ayman’s head landed before me in the water, only to be picked back by its long, white hair and swayed like a lantern. Through the sideways swings of his head, blood splattered everywhere and his face blurred, skin, eyes and hair darkening, morphing from his to mine. My head broke its own jaw with the power of its mortified scream.
I woke up, struggling, not screaming but wheezing, hands around my own neck.
I only found the bandages for the cuts below my jaw bunching up. All the bruises I’d sustained pulsated with searing pain, and I felt hot needles were being stabbed into every bone of my right foot.
Staring at the canopy of my bed, I inhaled and exhaled, hoping to calm my heart and suppress the traumatizing events and the nightmares they spawned.
I forced myself to think of the better parts of the trip to Zhadugar. Fairuza and I had gotten out alive, with no lasting injuries, Cyrus had insisted on coming for us himself, had known where to look and had come just in time, and neither he nor Ayman were harmed.
We were all safe and far, far away from Marzeya and the ghouls. We had avoided the fate of the people who had lived within the mountain.
One memory poked its ugly head above the surface. The mummified corpses of the three girls in their room.
Breath shuddering past trembling lips, I sat up, drowning all thoughts of the harrowing event in the memory of those moments in the flooded shrine. Calm waves spread through my mind as I reimagined the cool, quiet weightlessness of the pool, along with the rose quartz sculpture of Anaïta…
The meditative breathing and calmness ended abruptly as someone kicked my door open.
Cora stood in the doorway, long braid over her shoulder, a basket balanced over her head, and a tray on her arm. The smell of roasted corn wafted over with the breeze from the open window. But the smell that resettled my calmness was from that tray, that pot.
Coffee. Not the Almaskhami spicy, yellow coffee, but actual black, freshly-brewed coffee.
“Morning,” she greeted tiredly, kicking the door shut. “Care for an ear?”
I let out the breath my startled chest had trapped, relieved it was just her. “We’re going to have breakfast later.”
“The breakfast here is disgusting.” She dropped the basket on the table before setting the tray. “Beans, boiled eggs and weird, tiny, delicacy fishes.”
“You’re not wrong.” I untangled myself from the bed covers, only to trip when my bound foot touched the floor a
nd the stove-flame pain flared within it. I dove for the floor, arms up to shield my face, but Cora caught me by the back of my nightgown.
Effortlessly, she hauled me to the squat, wooden table. I smothered a brief alarm at her strength. She’d snapped the ghoul’s neck with nothing but her weight and aggravation.
She dropped down to the carpet, bringing me down with her. “How’s your foot?”
“Feels like it has been run over by a cart laden with mead barrels.”
I leaned back cautiously on a tasseled cushion, foot propped on its twin. In yesterday’s spiraling turmoil, I hadn’t paid any attention to its escalating pain. Only when I’d been turned over to the palace physician and his nurses to bathe and treat had I realized how hard I’d kicked the ghoul. Crushing its skull had pulverized three toes and all my toenails—resulting in them being pulled out. The physician, Master Wasim, said it was a wonder I hadn’t broken every bone in my foot.
“And everything else?”
I shrugged as I rubbed my brow and lids. Though not yet harsh, the early morning light still felt like pinpricks to my eyeballs. “Better than it could have been.”
Humming, she poured me a cup. “I’m not going to bother asking if you slept well.”
“Wise choice.” I piled sugar in, stirring quickly then adding splashes of milk before tasting. I moaned in enjoyment. “Where did you find this?”
“When we went down to the market.” She handed me an ear of corn. “They get good imports here. A lot directly from my family’s farmlands. I always knew most of our sunflower seeds went to the east but I never thought they’d all end up in piles here.”
Content with her being my only company, I bit rows off my cob, relishing the freedom of talking with my mouth full with no Cherine to reprimand me. “What’s it like, living on a farm?”
Cora did the same, some fibers coming out with her mouthful. “Busy. You get up early to feed the animals and make sure everyone else is doing their jobs. There are fresh eggs to be picked, cows to milk, stalls to clean and water to replenish. And depending on the season, you plow the earth or plant seeds or pick the fresh batches from their soil. We’ve started growing watermelons the past couple of years. They’re a weird fruit.” She paused to swallow. “Anyway, your day starts before dawn and ends way past sunset and you get dirty and sweaty hauling stuff or scrubbing or shoveling. Generally doing something with your hands, something physical and grueling.”