I smiled and pulled on my gloves. “I will check back and pray for him. Call the doctor again—it cannot hurt.”
Boani smiled and picked up the pail of ice before hurrying into the bedroom. I spied after her, but I did not see Sadriel, which relieved me in more ways than one.
I thanked Aamina for her time with me and told her I would return to the cavern on my own. She insisted on escorting me, but I stood my ground and she was cold, so my argument won out. I arranged my head scarf so it would keep the short strands off my face, then hurried outside and back the way we had come. A few tiny crystals of snow already danced on chilled winds. The streets were largely clear, and I imagined many had returned to their homes to wait out the storm. I walked briskly, encouraging the patch of white sky to follow me. Any stragglers in the street stepped aside for me; it was not hard to recognize the Svara Idyah and her cloud.
Thankfully, I saw no dogs, and therefore took a main road around the marketplace and northward, toward the edge of the city. I had only just passed the last of the stores when a familiar voice called out my name.
“Smeesa!”
Despite my hurry, I stopped and looked back at a band of guards moving toward me. I noticed Eyan first, but he had not been the one to speak my name.
Imad waved at me from the center of the group. He was dressed in simple clothes, and his hair was longer than the last time I’d seen him, though he still wore the two narrow braids over each ear. His pale eyes were a startling contrast to those around him.
I spied Lo behind him, taller than the entire guard save for one of the men. He smiled at me, and my heart sped.
I bowed as Imad neared. “Forgive me, I’ve been in the city too long. I was just returning home.”
“I had hoped to find you before you left,” Imad said with a wide smile, speaking Northlander. “I saw the cloud. How have you been? I have not been to see you as promised, and I apologize.”
“No, it’s fine!” I said, putting up my gloved hands. “You have done so much for me; I could not ask more. I am very comfortable.”
Imad nodded and walked beside me, his guard fanning out around us. I stole a glance at Lo. Our eyes met for the briefest moment.
“My second cook has created the most remarkable dessert, thanks to you,” Imad said, clasping his hands behind his back. “He uses your snow and salt to harden sweet cream. Do you have anything like that in the Northlands?”
I grinned. “Not that I know of. It sounds . . . interesting.”
Imad made a grand gesture toward the sky. “You will have to make it snow hard so we can have more ice. I want to serve it at my birthday dinner, which I insist you attend. I will have Havid deliver an official invitation, of course.”
“Aamina may be better . . . Birthday? When is it?”
“Next week, but the celebration will be in two,” he answered. He clapped his hands together. “It will be spectacular. The doctors say even Father will be able to attend, so you will finally get to meet him. He is impressed with you.”
I bowed my head. “Thank you, but helping Zareed requires no effort on my part. If it will cause no harm, I would love to attend your dinner.” Eating in front of so many would prove a challenge, but I could have an early dinner in my cave and come just to watch. How exciting it would be to attend a prince’s party! I could not believe such blessings existed for me. And though I seldom spoke to him, I still cherished Imad’s friendship.
Imad slowed. “I best get back, but I’m glad I found you. Lo, would you send an escort with Smeesa?”
“I will take her myself, my sheikh,” Lo said with a short bow.
Imad nodded and clapped his hands once more. “Then I will see you in two weeks, Smeesa.” He shivered, then laughed. “I will have to remember to bring a coat the next time I hunt you down.”
I smiled as Imad and his guard took the next fork in the road to make their way back to the palace. For an outing such as this, many nobles would probably have ridden on a litter or in a carriage, but as Lo had said, the prince was a humble man. A man to be admired.
Lo moved beside me, a hand resting on the large sword at his hip. “Has he returned?”
I shook my head, knowing he referred to Sadriel. “Not to the cavern. I saw him not an hour ago, in the home of a woman named Boani. Her son is sick with fever, and I fear he came for him.” My step slowed, and I peered up to him. “Lo, can I ask you a great favor?”
“Of course.”
“She lives on the northwest side of the city, by the mountains. Aamina knows where. If the opportunity arises, would you visit her? See if she needs anything—a doctor, medicine, food? See if her son is recovering, or . . .”
“I will,” he said, adjusting his uniform closer to his skin, attempting to ward off the cold without being obvious about it.
“Thank you.”
We crossed an intersection, and two soldiers nodded to Lo from their station on the corner. Once they were out of earshot, I asked, “There are more guards in the city than usual. Why?”
“Dissenters.” He frowned. “They’ve been . . . louder . . . than usual. Prince Imad is the great grandson of the man who overtook the throne through war. That generation has passed, but there are still those who support the old regime, who want it restored.”
“But Imad is a good ruler.”
Lo nodded. “Do not ask me to explain it, because it is as senseless as snow in the summer.” He chuckled a little.
“But they wouldn’t hurt him, would they?”
The mirth faded. Taking a deep breath, Lo said, “There has already been one attempt on Imad’s life, though the assassin never got close enough to draw his dagger. We caught him in the receiving room of the palace.”
I gasped and pressed a hand to my lips. “When? Was anyone hurt?”
Pressing a hand to my back, Lo guided me around a short wagon parked in the street, then returned the hand to his sword hilt. I shivered at that brief moment of contact. Rolling my lips together, I busied my hands with the ends of my head scarf.
“No one,” he said as we reached the last homes of the city. “Do not worry yourself; Imad is well protected.”
“But are you?”
His dark eyes met mine for a moment. A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “I will be fine.”
We walked in silence for a while—not an uncomfortable silence, just a thoughtful one. We passed two more soldiers, both of whom nodded at Lo, before leaving the perimeter of the city and starting the trek to my cavern. I found myself wishing we would never reach my little home in the Finger Mountains.
Home. My home. When did I start thinking of it that way?
My cavern came into view, and I could not help but share my thoughts. “When I first agreed to come to Zareed, I was scared,” I said, ignoring a chill that bit hard at my arms. “We have stories back home of Southlander mercenaries, though I always enjoyed the honey taffies they sold.”
Lo smiled.
“But the strange thing is, despite living in Iyoden all my life, when I think of home, I think of Mac’Hliah. I love the land, the culture, the language, the people.”
“Most Northlanders do not.”
“I don’t know how to describe it, but Zareed is beautiful. When I’m here . . . I can almost feel the sun on my face.”
He paused not ten paces from my cavern door and studied me, a light winter breeze tousling the ringlets of his black hair. Several seconds passed before he chuckled, as though hearing a joke carried on the wind.
“You are peculiar,” he said. “But I hope you will feel the sun again, Misa. If I could have Garen’s wish, I would ask for that.”
My stomach fluttered. “Garen’s wish?”
He nodded. “I will bring that book for you the next time I come. It is more suited for children, but perhaps you will enjoy it.”
“I would like that.”
“And I will find this Boani,” he said.
“Thank you.”
He smiled at me, no
dded once more, and left for the city. Though I stepped into the darkness of the cave, I left the door open a crack and watched him walk away until he vanished entirely from sight.
CHAPTER 24
Time rarely passed swiftly for me, but the days leading up to Imad’s royal celebration flew by. In Zareed, the monarch’s birthday was somewhat like a winter solstice back home, where everyone participated, decorated, and gave gifts, only I was one lucky enough to experience the celebration firsthand.
In preparation for the event, Kitora herself braved the storm to come to my cavern to deliver a dress—a beautiful high-waisted, aquamarine gown that fell to my toes, made of the softest cotton I had ever touched. Kitora had layered a sheer, pale green fabric over it, and the same fabric also formed drooping sleeves and a shawl sewn in at the shoulders. Thick gold thread lined the collar, cuffs, and skirt, and gold appliqués fanned over my ribs like butterfly wings, centered around a large amethyst just under my breasts. I had never seen a dress so intricate and lovely.
I told Kitora I could not accept such a dress, but she insisted, saying that even the Svara Idyah had to look respectable at the sheikh’s banquet. She made me feel so guilty for trying to reject the dress that I agreed to try it on for her so she could make any necessary adjustments. I warned her about my skin, but fortunately the dress covered most of it, though I knew the sheer material over my arms and shoulders would provide little protection for those brushing past me.
Kitora fussed over my hair, which she said looked like an ibis’s nest, and returned the next day with a scarf to hide it. She had originally wanted me to wear hair ornaments, but I refused to wear a wig, so this was our compromise. I thanked her until she snapped at me to keep quiet.
Lo also came to see me before the celebration, once the day after I saw Imad in the city, and again a week later to bring me another book in ancient Hraric, though not the one that referenced “Garen’s wish.” On that first visit, he came bearing wonderful news: Boani’s son’s fever had broken, and the boy was recovering nicely. I did not know if Sadriel had played any part in deciding the child’s fate, for I did not see him before Imad’s celebration. Because he stayed away, I did not have the opportunity to ask him.
A troop of four guards, Qisam and Eyan among them, came to my cavern in the early afternoon the day of the celebration, their camels’ saddles and tails decorated in braided wool. They wore bright bronze armor and swords with gem-studded hilts in honor of the occasion. The armor was obviously not meant for protection, being too thin, but I imagined it shined brilliantly when not in the shadow of my storm.
I dressed quickly, hoping the stiffening fabric around my body did not look too obvious. Kitora had made such a beautiful dress; I hated not being able to do it justice. I put on my gray gloves and tied back my hair in the scarf before mounting Leikah, who wore a red and black wreath around her long neck and bells on the back of her saddle.
“You look ripe as a sheila’s daughter,” Eyan said with a laugh as we started for the city.
“What does that mean?” I asked, but Eyan only laughed more, and colorless blood rose to my cheeks. Did I look foolish? But Kitora had made this dress for me, so I would wear it and be proud, regardless of what anyone else thought. I asked him to ride closer so I could check my head scarf in his armor, which made Qisam snicker. Truly, though, I rode into the city between four men made of mirrors.
Oh, how lively the city was! Unlit lanterns stretched between buildings and windows like clothes on a line, each with a different ink painting—tigers and mountains and spiders, even snowflakes. Women wore elaborate dresses with silver hairpieces that chimed when they turned their heads, or hats nearly an arm-span tall. A few wore gowns similar to mine, with the hems tied up nearly to their waists to keep them from dragging in the dirt. Men and women alike wore long jeweled earrings and carved stone necklaces, beads in braids and beards, and kohl to outline their eyes. Many women wore bright red lip stain, emphasizing their already full lips. People sang in houses and on corners, and even danced right in the middle of the road until harried travelers or camels forced them out of the way.
For once, the markets did not bustle with merchants and customers. Nearly every shop was closed, save for a few manned by especially determined salesmen bartering off last-minute jewelry or makeup, gold-tinted chains, and wide embroidered belts. The smell of yogurt and meat drew my eyes to a street vendor who had several feet of sausage roasting over a small fire. He cut pieces off the end, then skewered them on sticks and handed them out to passersby.
So much jubilation surrounded us that few people noticed me, even when my storm blocked out their sun or a cool breeze brushed through mashadah. It felt wrong to bring in my storm when so many were enjoying themselves in the warm streets. I decided then to leave the banquet early, if only to keep my storm from snowing too much on this blessed day. At least those who did not live close to the palace would not bear the brunt of my chill. Perhaps, if the day had been hot, they would even enjoy it . . . or so I hoped.
A stage had been erected near the palace, and women dressed in sheer veils and broad pants lined with bells were performing a complicated dance, holding glimmering batons in either hand. A crowd had gathered around them, and the spectators clapped their hands to the beat of music that sang from two hammered dulcimers and a goatskin drum. I laughed at the sight of them. How marvelous it all was! Nothing in Euwan compared to the grandeur of Imad’s Nameday Festival. Nothing.
I was not the only guest to arrive at the palace with an escort, nor was I the first. Four men carrying a litter draped in magenta lace approached the front of the well-guarded palace well before me. A beautiful young woman in heavily beaded silks emerged from the curtains, her ribbon-braided hair hanging to her ankles. A small caravan came after her, though the wagons were too tall for me to see their guests. Eyan led us behind a cluster of camels ridden by men in bright yellows and whites, each with an ornamental sword at his side. Unlike Lo’s, their swords were narrow and slender, with brass handles that looked like frozen fire.
I searched the indigo-clad guards who were helping guests at the front of the palace, but did not see Lo among them.
Eyan waved off a few soldiers and guided Leikah down himself, even offering me an armored elbow. I smiled at him but dismounted on my own.
“There’s a show going on while the guests arrive,” Eyan said. “My niece is playing the arghul. She’s excited to see the Svara Idyah in person. I told her you weren’t that great.”
“So kind,” I chuckled, clasping my gloved hands beside me and following him through the entrance. Qisam stayed behind. I tried not to marvel at the palace, for I still found its beauty enchanting. Many of the guests took notice of me—if not by sight, then by the chill—but fortunately none were blatant enough to make the signal for warding off demons in my line of sight. They either did not wish to offend me or did not wish to offend Imad, who had invited me. A few donned violet coats, all of the same make. Perhaps Imad had passed them out earlier. I stayed close to Eyan and adjusted my stride to ensure I gave everyone else plenty of space.
I could hear the music as we trailed our way up the broad, winding stairs—engrossing melodies with dozens of harmonies and heavy, methodic percussion. It was the sort of music that could coax life into even a slow-beating heart like mine, the kind you could taste just by breathing. But the minute I entered the throne room, I forgot how to breathe altogether.
How beautiful it was.
Flowers clustered in tall, hip-height urns in the room’s corners and on the windowsills, and sheer fabric not unlike the material of my dress hung in loose, bobbing drapes from the ceiling in carmine and beige. Tables so narrow people could only be seated on one side of them wove around the perimeter of the room, leaving the center of the floor and the throne exposed. Several musicians sat in the open space, and Eyan pointed out the young woman in brown who was playing a flute with two chutes. She could be no older than fourteen, but the way her fingers
moved across the instrument’s round holes dizzied me. Such talent for one so young. For anyone!
To my surprise, several braziers also lined the room, though only a few had been lit, wafting off scents of cinnamon and mint. Considering that Zareed was always hot, even in the middle of the night, I could only assume these had been arranged in anticipation of my arrival. Imad had proven himself, once again, a thoughtful man.
I scanned the room for Lo but did not see him anywhere, nor did I see Imad or anyone who looked like his father. Several faces turned my way, and hushed whispers harmonized with the music.
Eyan gestured to the right corner of the room. “If you want—”
“Could I sit somewhere more distant from the others?” I asked. “Maybe outside?”
“Outside you’ll get snowed on,” Eyan said with a snort. Still, he motioned for me to follow him to the balcony, where a heavy canvas had been erected to keep off the snow. It relieved me to see that the tall doors were also edged with thick drapes to dampen the wind, ensuring I could enjoy the festival without ruining it for anyone else. Imad had truly thought of everything. I’d have kissed him for it had the curse allowed it.
The balcony was lined with smaller round tables, many of them unoccupied. I took a seat at a table at the far end of the balcony, with my back to the draperies. I could still see the musicians through the glassless windows ahead of me, and since I was sitting so close to the mountain, I hoped more of the city would be outside the range of my snowstorm. I had chosen the perfect seat, where I could watch everything and everyone without being much of a bother or a spectacle.
“Would you like me to stay?” Eyan asked, peering up the balcony.
“Thank you, but please go enjoy the party. I’m very content.”
He smiled. “My ‘enjoying’ is standing guard at the top of the stairs, but enjoy it I will.”
He bowed flamboyantly—which made two women several tables away laugh—and headed back into the throne room, walking like a man who had ridden a camel for too long.
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