Throne of Sand (2020 Reissue)

by Helena Rookwood

  “What?” Tarak asked frantically. “What does it say?” I turned my frightened expression on him, and he flinched. “That bad?”

  “It says, He who sold our names to a prince.” I hesitated. “That doesn’t sound good, does it? Does that mean anything to you? What prince? And who would buy names?”

  Tarak’s caramel skin turned ashen. He shook his head slowly. “It doesn’t mean anything to me.”

  I looked back at the strange, swirling words again, wondering whether I could possibly have misread it. But I knew I hadn’t. The meaning didn’t change when I scanned them again.

  He who sold our names to a prince.

  “Well, princess, I guess I should have tried harder to help you when you wished for the ability to solve riddles,” Tarak joked, but it fell flat.

  I gave him a thin smile, floundering for a reply. “At least this gives us a clue. It’s somewhere to start. I mean, we’re in a palace where princes have lived for hundreds of years.” I remembered why the palace was currently being cleaned from top to bottom, the event Kassim had told me about on the ride to Tigrylon. “And we have several kingdoms’ worth of princes descending on the palace next week to try and win Safiyya’s hand.”

  Tarak gave a moody shrug. “You think being surrounded by princes will help us solve this?”

  “It couldn’t hurt.” We both fell into silence, staring at the ring. At least Tarak was finally thinking of things in terms of us. It felt good to be finally working with the djinni. For the first time, wearing this ring would be a help rather than a hindrance.

  “So what do you think your sultan would say if he knew about our budding relationship?” Tarak’s eyes glittered with mischief as he jumped to his feet and ruffled my hair, all trace of his concern suddenly vanished.

  I swatted him away but he was already out of reach. “This isn’t a relationship.”

  “Is so.”

  “It’s a partnership at best.”

  “Do you think he’d be jealous? Because I’m better looking than he is?”

  “You’re not better looking than he is!”

  “What?” Tarak looked genuinely aghast at that comment, but before he could protest, something else caught his attention.

  He glanced behind me, to the thin curtains swaying in the breeze. Cocking his head to one side, he pressed a finger to his lips. Then he winked at me and tipped himself backward over the balcony, diffusing into purple smoke. I stared after him, my mouth open.

  “Who are you talking to?” A hard voice split the night air and I twisted around in its direction. A long staff parted the curtains and the vizier stalked onto the balcony, her eyes casting about, and narrowing when they settled on me, alone.

  I swallowed, forcing myself to smile. “No one.”

  “It sounded like a man.”

  My heart thundered as I stood, dusting down my skirts. “I was just talking to myself.” I cleared my throat dramatically, making a point of lowering my voice. “I’ve had a scratchy throat since we came back from the desert.”

  “Hmm.” The vizier didn’t sound convinced. She wrinkled her nose, Tarak’s scent still hanging in the air. “Have you been burning incense out here?”

  “No.” I feigned innocence. “It could be my new perfume.” I sniffed at my wrists, then offered them to her. “It’s made with frankincense.”

  She looked down and I suddenly clasped my hands behind my back, realizing the ring’s amethyst star was in full view with my palms turned upward.

  I changed the subject quickly. “Seeing as you’re in my private chambers so late at night, I assume there’s something I can help you with, Hepzibah?”

  The vizier narrowed her eyes and stalked toward me, her beetle-black robes brushing the floor as she closed the gap between us. “Drop the act, princess. I’m onto you.” Her staff clacked loudly against the floor as she walked. “I know you’ve had outside help. With the thieves, the book – all of it. The sultan might be falling for your questionable charms, but I won’t.” She pointed at me with the staff. “I will find out your secret before you have a chance to become Astaran’s sultanah. And when I expose you to Kassim, he’ll send you right back to Khiridesh.”

  My body trembled under her venomous gaze, but I bit my tongue. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of confirming her suspicions. “I don’t know what you mean, Hepzibah.” I persuaded my features into what I hoped was a look of sweet compliance. “I have nothing to hide.”

  Except deals with thieves, a ring-djinni, and a still-living sister, of course.

  The vizier glared at me, her narrowed eyes and angled chin making her look almost serpentine. She wavered, like she might strike, then whirled around and stormed back through the curtains. I watched her disappear, my heart thundering in my chest.

  That was too close. I’d need to be more careful in future, especially in the palace under Hepzibah’s watchful gaze.

  My cheeks still flushed from the encounter, I exhaled slowly, tilting my chin back to watch the sky glittering above me. In the short time I’d been in Astaran, it seemed I’d made an enemy of Kassim’s most trusted advisor. But if what she’d said was true, the sultan didn’t seem completely put off by my un-sultanah-like actions. He was charmed by them, even. My cheeks heated even more at that last thought.

  I glanced back at where Tarak had disappeared over the edge of the balcony. Would he really keep to our bargain now, and be with me in spirit as well as deed? A rueful smile twisted up the corners of my mouth. Between the wilful djinni and the other bargain I’d struck with the Queen of Thieves, the allies I’d found in the palace were not what I’d expected before traveling to Astaran.

  And my first three wishes hadn’t exactly gotten me very far...but with four remaining wishes, not even the vizier could stand in my way. From now on, I’d make every wish count.

  Ready for the next book in the Desert Nights series? Check out PALACE OF WISHES now.

  And keep reading to receive a free prequel to Throne of Sand…

  A sneak preview of Palace of Wishes…

  The throne room was awash with soft, excited chatter as the princes arrived one by one. After parading through the streets of Kisrabah with a full cadre of guards and attendants, each suitor arrived at the Astarian palace to be greeted by the sultan before presenting their gifts to Safiyya.

  I shifted in my throne, glancing to my left where Kassim still looked fresh and alert, resplendent in fine gold-and-cream robes and greeting each prince with the same fervor as the first. My cheeks ached from smiling for hours on end, so I stopped, opting instead for what I hoped passed as a look of regal nonchalance.

  The princes would be staying with us for several days while they competed in a traditional tournament to win Princess Safiyya’s hand. If tournament was the right word. From what I understood it was more of a showcase, filled with recitals and dancing and feasting.

  The most recent suitor moved off to one side of the hall, and I took advantage of the break in official duties to lean toward Kassim. “How many left?”

  “Bored already, princess?” he drawled, turning to face me.

  Spirits, I’ve never been more bored.

  “Not at all,” I lied, tapping my foot restlessly.

  “I thought you’d enjoy sitting up here next to me and greeting our guests. It’ll be good practice for when you’re sultanah.”

  I frowned, not sure how to take that comment. Sitting next to Kassim on the dais like this did make it easy to imagine my future as Sultanah of Astaran. But spirits, when I finally became queen, I planned to do a lot more than sit and simper at guests.

  “We’ve greeted Prince Iyas, Prince Farrami, and Prince Nephi, so three more to go.” Kassim finally answered my initial question.

  “Well...” I lowered my voice, staring at the princes who had already arrived. “Those three are all so far down their lines of successions, none seem particularly strong political matches for Astaran. I only hope your next three invites are more impressive.�
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  Kassim looked taken aback, but before he could scold me for my unsolicited political opinions, the horns blasted from outside and the doors to the throne room were flung inward by guards. Another prince was on his way.

  I slumped back in my throne, plastering a smile back onto my face. It was inconvenient timing, all these princes descending upon the palace after we’d finally gotten hold of the Night Diamond talisman. We should be finding out how to use it to lead us to the hidden treasure, but instead, here we were entertaining pampered princelings for the best part of the week.

  I drummed my fingers on the arms of my throne, my gaze snagging on the ring as the engraved golden band glinted in the light. I silently read the inscription to myself. He who sold our names to a prince. No doubt Tarak was listening to everything these visiting princes said from the ring.

  Concentrate, Zadie.

  I was supposed to be paying attention, so I could discuss the princes with the djinni later. One of them might hold a clue to solving the riddle of the ring. But my mind kept wandering to thoughts of the talisman.

  With hooting fanfare, another entourage poured into the throne room, yellow banners flapping and swaying, all held aloft by servants. The babble and chatter in the rest of the room quieted and I tried to push all thoughts of the Night Diamond talisman from my mind.

  I’d promised to try better with Tarak, and that meant paying attention to these princes.

  “Prince Rishi of Sipparkish!” The announcement boomed through the throne room, the name echoing from the polished marble walls.

  I sat up a little straighter in my seat. As second in line to his throne, Prince Rishi was by far the best political match invited to the palace.

  Surrounded by guards, viziers, and several scantily clad female servants, the young prince strode into view, sweeping into a shallow, theatrical bow before Kassim. He was perhaps a few years younger than the sultan, shorter and stockier in stature. His broad shoulders were draped in the same deep yellow as his banners.

  Kassim inclined his head. “Welcome to Kisrabah, Prince Rishi.” I studied the strong line of the sultan’s jaw as he smiled down at the prince. He was a true politician, showering honeyed words and warm looks on our potential allies.

  “My home is yours,” he continued. “Please, allow me to introduce my future sultanah, Princess Scheherazade of Khiridesh…”

  I tilted my chin higher, my cheeks warming at Kassim’s words. Until now, each time he’d introduced me as his betrothed. But this time… Future sultanah.

  The rush of pride was short-lived, however, replaced by a wave of irritation when Prince Rishi’s light brown eyes didn’t even turn my way.

  “Thank you, sul–”

  “Yes, welcome to our palace, Prince Rishi,” I declared, speaking over him. “I do hope you enjoy your stay with us. And that the tournament doesn’t prove too challenging for you.”

  Rishi’s copper brow furrowed for a moment as he appraised me.

  “I should probably also introduce you to my youngest sister, Princess Safiyya,” Kassim cut in, amusement coloring his voice.

  Safiyya smiled sweetly as Prince Rishi approached her throne. The young princess had been planning her outfits for the tournament for the last week. Today, she was dressed in honey-colored silk stitched with gold blossoms. Her wide eyes had been lined with a shimmering kohl, and her long, glossy hair fell in an intricate braid over one shoulder.

  At the base of her throne, her pet tiger, Lotus, lifted his head from his paws as the young man stepped closer, a low rumble in his throat.

  “Princess Safiyya.” Rishi dropped into another whirling bow that sent his yellow cloak flapping, then backed away when he saw how close it brought his face to the tiger’s. “For a precious treasure such as yourself, I could only gift you an equally precious treasure from my kingdom.”

  He snapped his fingers. Five servants hauled something large and covered by cloth to his side.

  “Hurry up,” he hissed, quickly masking his scowl with a smile as he spun to face Safiyya once more. He whipped off the cloth to reveal a huge statue of himself, several inches taller than he was, carved from a slab of green jade.

  I pressed my lips together to keep a smile from my face.

  Spirits, what was Safiyya going to do with a larger-than-life jade statue of Prince Rishi?

  “Thank you, Prince Rishi. That’s certainly the largest gift I’ve ever received,” Safiyya replied tactfully, watching as the poor servants hauled the statue to one side, the base squealing horribly against the marble floor.

  Kassim turned to me with his brows high as the prince and his yellow-clad attendants moved to the edge of the throne room where the other princes waited patiently. The sultan leaned closer. “Thoughts?” He spoke so only I could hear.

  “Don’t you have a vizier to advise you on things like this?” I replied archly, glancing to where Hepzibah’s obsidian chair sat empty. The vizier had made it clear she didn’t approve of me, and it felt like she was always around, watching. So why isn’t she here today?

  Kassim followed my gaze. “She’s busy. We have a meeting with one of her contacts straight after this.”

  Too busy to greet the princes? Not that I minded escaping the vizier for a few hours, but there could only be one thing Kassim deemed more important than Safiyya’s engagement.

  “So she’s already found an expert to show you how to use the Night Diamond talisman?” I leaned closer to Kassim, practically hanging over the arm of the throne. “Are they coming to the palace?”

  “Ssh, not here,” Kassim hissed, his hand darting to his chest. There was a smooth mound beneath his silky robes where he wore the talisman around his neck. “Just answer my question, Zadie.”

  “What question?”

  “Prince Rishi. I asked what you thought of him.”

  I wanted to be stubborn and keep questioning him about the talisman, but my desire to impress Kassim won out. It was a new occurrence for him to ask my opinion on anything at all, and I’d studied the history and royal lineage of the twelve kingdoms. “Sipparkish would be a strong ally. With their control of the Akkur strait, they’re wealthy and powerful. And of all the suitors, Rishi is most likely to become sultan.”

  Spirits help the people of Sipparkish if that day ever comes.

  “True.” Kassim traced a curled finger along his jawline. “No thoughts on the prince specifically? No behavioral observations?”

  I ignored the sultan’s goading tone. “I’m giving you my political assessments, not palace gossip. Politically he’s the best choice so far.”

  Even though he’s about as charming as a scorpion in your shoe.

  The doors at the far end of the hall groaned opened again and several horns sounded loudly.

  “Prince Diyan of Nahraj!” The announcer’s voice echoed through the room once more. Kassim leaned back in his throne at the same time I leaned forward, gripping my hands around the armrests as the next prince entered the chamber.

  Now this one I’m excited for.

  Nahraj was a queendom ruled by Sultanah Farideh, who was, according to the many accounts I’d read of her, a beloved and resourceful leader. She was a sultanah I aspired to be like. One day.

  Prince Diyan stepped forward surrounded by banners of green and copper. He had a pleasant, heart-shaped face, with boyish features and a tall, slightly lanky stature. He kept his brown eyes trained on the floor, rolling a tube between his hands as Kassim welcomed him to the palace and introduced his sister.

  The prince lifted his head. “It’s a p-pleasure to meet you, Princess Safiyya. This is for you.” He stepped forward to present her the tube, flinching as Lotus gave a soft growl. He jumped back, well away from the tiger, his willowy frame hunched over slightly.

  The prince rubbed a hand across the back of his neck as Safiyya removed a scroll from the tube.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed brightly. “It’s a painting.” She turned the parchment so Kassim and I could see.

&nb
sp; “I heard that you like t-tigers.” Diyan rocked back and forth on his feet, eyeing Lotus nervously. “So I painted one for you.”

  Prince Rishi scoffed loudly from the far side of the room.

  “You painted this?” Safiyya sounded impressed. “Thank you, Prince Diyan, I shall hang it in my private chambers.”

  Whether it was because of Safiyya’s genuine pleasure at the gift or the mention of her chambers, the prince’s ears turned bright red. He bowed several times before scurrying back out of the limelight as quickly as possible.

  Kassim didn’t have to ask me for my thoughts this time. He placed his head in his hand, leaning over the armrest of his throne.

  I tilted my head toward his and whispered, “Sultanah Farideh would be a formidable ally.”

  The fanfare blared out once more, announcing the final prince. Thank the spirits. It was almost over.

  “Prince Cao of Lyani!”

  Only two attendants carried in rich blue banners alongside the prince, who strode right up to the thrones and flashed a dazzling smile at each of us in turn.

  While Kassim greeted him, I studied the final prince. He pushed his glossy mop of dark hair back from his face, which was olive-toned and lit up by his soft, up-tilted eyes, a vivid blue shade I’d only ever seen in the Lyanese. Beneath his blue-and-silver robes, his chest and arms looked muscular for his age, and his chin formed a chiseled line beneath his wide smile.

  “It’s a pleasure to be invited here, Kassim,” Cao said warmly. “And Princess Scheherazade. Thank you for welcoming me into your home.”

  “Please, call me Zadie.” I smiled down at him, pleased that one of the princes had chosen to address me directly.

  Prince Cao smiled and nodded, then turned to Safiyya. “The rumors of your beauty were not exaggerated, Princess Safiyya.” He leapt up the steps before her throne in one swift movement and planted a kiss on the back of her hand.

  Safiyya turned pink and giggled. A growl rumbled from Lotus, and Cao dropped down to pat the tiger on the head. Then, reaching into an inside pocket, he presented Safiyya with something that glistened and sparkled, casting a pattern of light that danced about the floor.