The Theft of Sunlight

by Intisar Khanani

  “Are you all right?” a voice asks. I look up to find a young woman beside me. She’s slightly older than I, dressed in a simple but well-made outfit of green and cream, hair done up in a businesslike bun.

  “I’m fine,” I say, expecting the woman to walk on like everyone else. I push myself to my feet. The palace is still a quarter of an hour’s walk. My foot will likely be a bloody mess by then, and I’ve no one to blame but myself. I knew these shoes were no good—knew it before they were ever made—and I shouldn’t have left the royal wing in them regardless of whom I wanted to avoid.

  The woman, still lingering beside me, says, “That was rude of him, wasn’t it? He should have at least helped you up.” She shakes her head. “Perhaps he was raised in a barn.”

  “Animals are kinder,” I say, which is not precisely true. I’ve been knocked over by our horses more than once, and not by accident either. “Or at least, people ought to know better.”

  Her right eye creases with amusement. The other is hidden beneath a patch of honey-colored leather, prettily edged with an embossed pattern of vines. “True. I think that’s why I prefer books. Where are you headed? I’d be happy to send someone to fetch your carriage.”

  She must think me a wealthy noblewoman from my clothes. “I’m going to the palace,” I admit. “But I’d prefer to walk. Thank you.”

  I start forward, limping rather more than usual. I just want to curl up in my bed and forget this day.

  “Veria?” she asks uncertainly.

  I turn back, embarrassed by my lack of manners. “No, it’s just kelari. And I’m sorry. I’ve been having a difficult day.”

  “I don’t mean to intrude, but did you know the palace has a side entrance? It’s closer than the main one. I work at the tax offices. I can show you the way, if you’d like.”

  I pause, aware of the city folk still walking by, the fact that this woman has been kind twice over. “My name’s Amraeya,” I say. “And I’d be very grateful to you if you could shorten the way for me.”

  She dips me a friendly curtsy, a smile spreading across her face. “I’m Kirrana. And it’s really not far from here.”

  “I didn’t realize the tax office was on palace grounds,” I say as she falls into step with me.

  “There’s a lot on palace grounds,” she informs me. “But the main income for the kingdom? There’s no other place for it. There’s also the Circle of Mages’ complex, though you likely won’t have any need to go there. And a good number of other administrative buildings. The front is all palace—that’s all you’ve seen, isn’t it? The back is everything else.” She tilts her head. “Have you seen much of the city?”

  “Not very much. I’ve been shopping a bit.”

  “Oh, but there’s so much to explore,” she says, and happily launches into an overview of the various things to see in the city, from Speakers’ Hall—the great temple on the river where the highest Speakers make their home and young Speakers are educated—to the docks themselves, to the best teahouses, bathhouses, the glassworker’s shop, and, at my request, purveyors of street food.

  We reach the side entrance a few minutes later, and she vouches for me to the guards, though I don’t doubt my clothes help, even if they are spattered with mud.

  “You’ll be all right from here?” she asks, having delivered me to a path that leads, in one direction, toward the tax offices and, beyond them, the women’s residence, and in the other direction, the palace proper.

  “Just fine,” I assure her. “Thank you, again.”

  “Of course. Evening, kelari.” She dips me a curtsy and hurries away before I can attempt one of my own. I like her, I realize. It would have been nice to get to know her, to plan to meet her again. But her quick departure tells me what I should have already guessed: that palace folk don’t socialize with tax clerks. Still, now that I know about the side entrance, perhaps I’ll run into her again.

  I turn back to the palace and manage to collar a page as I limp through the third hallway I reach, and he guides me to Melly’s apartments.

  “Rae?” Melly says, poking her head in from the inner sitting room as I close the door behind me. Her face lights up. “Oh, you’ve come to visit!”

  “Hallo, Melly,” I say, amused despite myself. “I’m afraid I have a reason.”

  “That’s—Rae, why are you limping?”

  “That would be it,” I say, and slip my turned foot out of its slipper, lifting it to show off the soiled bandages. It looks much worse now that the blisters have burst, splotches of faintly red-yellow wetness discoloring the bottom. “What,” I say brightly, “do you think of the cobbler’s improvements?”

  “I think we are sending for him right now,” Melly says with an edge of steel to her voice.

  “It’s already night,” I point out, slipping my foot back into my shoe and limping my way to where she waits.

  “Precisely why he will need to get to work at once if you are to have something better to wear tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow. Assuming I go back to the princess. “I need to talk to you about that too.”

  “Of course,” Melly says, “after we’ve sent for the cobbler.”

  “But—”

  “Sella!” she calls, and raises her brows at me. I subside, making for the carpets on one side of the room with the utterly welcoming cushions set out upon them. I don’t want sofas right now; I want the comfort of home.

  After the maid departs with orders for both the cobbler and tea, Melly offers to fetch my regular-wear slippers that I left behind in their guest room. “You rest your feet,” she says crossly when I make to go with her.

  I ease off the offending slippers, tuck my feet beneath my skirt, and let myself rest.

  I miss home. It’s a startling realization to have, for I’ve only really been here for a few days. But after today’s events, I want my family around me: Mama and my sisters, and Baba’s gruff care. I even want Muddle with her mixed-up manners and her simple horsey self. What I don’t want is to see the palace cobbler again, or Captain Matsin, or even the princess, really.

  Melly returns, shoes in hand, and sets them aside to pour me a cup of tea. “I’m listening,” she says, sitting back. “You can tell me now.”

  I stare down at the cup of tea, seeing again the damp, matted visage of the dead horse’s head within the grave. But no, that’s not the worst of it. I take a breath and say, “She tested me, to see if I would tell her secrets.”

  “I see.”

  “I didn’t, of course, but I’d rather not work for someone who would do that to me.” The faint purple edge of a bruise just shows below the hem of my sleeve. My fault, certainly, in aggressively defending myself, but I shouldn’t have had to feel the need to defend myself at all.

  Melly worries at her lip with her teeth. “She probably needed to know, early on, if you would betray her.”

  “So she betrays me instead?”

  “Was it a betrayal?”

  It felt like one. The words rest on my tongue, but I don’t want to speak them. Perhaps I’m overreacting. Perhaps I’m just not cut out for this.

  “You called it a test,” Melly observes when I don’t answer.

  “Yes. And it made me see that I don’t know how politics works, Melly. I don’t understand it, and I don’t want any part of it. Because if that’s how things begin, I can’t assume they’ll get any better.”

  Melly shakes her head. “Now that she knows she can trust you, there’s no need for her to try you again. The royal family values loyalty. You’ve proven yourself already, on your first day. It will only get better from here.”

  Will it? And better in what way? I’ll be following the princess around, privy to secrets I can’t even comprehend, to what purpose? None that I can see. She doesn’t really need me for her house of healing project; it’s already being overseen by others. They can send her whatever updates she might need.

  “I should have just stayed home,” I say, looking down at my tea. “The princ
ess can find someone else to keep her secrets. I don’t want them.”

  Melly frowns. “It’s not like you to walk away from a responsibility. Whatever happened, and whatever secret you are privy to, are not small things, are they? Don’t answer—I know you can’t. I wish Filadon were here to discuss this all.”

  “What sort of advice would he give?” I ask.

  Melly shrugs. “The political sort. Whether to extract yourself or not, and how. But I imagine he wouldn’t want you to leave yet.”

  No, not after he introduced me. My performance—and loyalty—will reflect on him. What would it cost me to stay just through the wedding and then bow out? Would that be enough to keep from injuring Filadon’s relationship with the royals? “I could stay through the wedding, but I don’t want to stay with the princess all summer. I don’t think I can handle it much longer than the wedding—if I can manage that at all. Horses don’t politick like this.”

  Melly looks toward the door, and I can almost see the thoughts ticking through her mind. “Let me consult with Filadon. Tomorrow we can come up with a plan for you.”

  Which means I will have to get back on my feet and limp my way to the royal wing for the night, though at least not quite yet. I still have to finish my tea.

  “There is the cobbler,” Melly says at the sound of a knock on the outer room’s door.

  I grimace.

  “I’ll handle him,” Melly says with a warrior’s ferocity in her eyes.

  Better her than me.

  The cobbler appears quite pleased to be shown into the inner sitting room, despite being called here so late in the evening. But the moment Melly meets his gaze, he realizes it is not because we wished to show him honor or beg his aid.

  “Kel Herra,” she says with biting politeness. “I am afraid the shoes you have provided my cousin will not do.”

  He straightens his shoulders. “I improved their design, veria. It may require a tweak or two, but . . .”

  “Cousin,” Melly says, nodding at me. “Would you be so good as to show Kel Herra what one day in his ‘improved’ shoes has cost you?”

  I don’t want to. Once he looks at my turned foot, he’ll blame my deformity for the damage his shoes have done me, but I grit my teeth and extend my foot, baring the discolored bandages.

  He frowns. “I don’t see how that could happen, veria. Are you—”

  “Indeed,” Melly says, cutting him off, “and yet it has. My cousin’s feet do not just develop blisters of their own accord; it is the shoes that are at fault. We require a new set of shoes tomorrow, made on the old pattern, if you are able.” Her tone makes it clear she has her doubts.

  “Of course I can follow a pattern,” he says haughtily. “Anyone can follow a pattern, even a bad one. But that will hardly produce a shoe I would be proud of.”

  “Are you proud of these?” I demand, holding up the slippers I’ve worn all day. The inner leather is stained with blood and fluid.

  “The workmanship is perfectly fine,” he says.

  Oh yes, because my foot is to blame, nothing else.

  “A well-made shoe will not harm the wearer,” Melly says coldly. “That is the most basic definition of well made. We put our trust in you, kel, and I expect you to make this right.”

  Herra flushes and dips his head. I let Melly complete the conversation. By the time he leaves, he’s promised to deliver a new set of slippers by morning, and will wait to hear from me before starting the next pair. I only hope I’ll be able to tell how well the new shoes fit despite my blisters. Though I may not need the next pair at all.

  Melly sighs as the door closes behind him. “I’m sorry, Rae. I didn’t fully appreciate how difficult this would be for you.”

  “It’s all right,” I tell her. “I’m just grateful you handled that.”

  Besides, the shoes are the least of my concerns.

  Chapter

  15

  When I walk into Alyrra’s bedchamber the following morning, she smiles somewhat hesitantly. I curtsy in my new set of slippers—delivered at dawn and carefully padded with bandages—and gather myself to make the speech I have spent the early morning hours composing.

  The princess is quicker. “I am so glad to see you this morning, Amraeya. Let us go for a walk together before breakfast. Jasmine, will you come with us?”

  “Zayyida,” I begin, fairly certain I want to walk as little as possible today.

  “I know we have things to discuss,” she says earnestly. “But let us discuss them on our walk.”

  Jasmine and I follow her out and through the quiet halls to a courtyard the likes of which I’ve never seen before: it is a small forest growing hale and strong in the heart of the palace.

  Catching my astonished gaze, Alyrra says, “It is a wedding present. Zayyid Kestrin knew I would miss the woods of my home.”

  But this little glade is well-established, the work of many years. Wasn’t the wedding only just arranged last fall? Perhaps Alyrra does not realize how old it is. Or perhaps, much more likely, there are more secrets at play here than I have been given to understand.

  “Jasmine, why don’t you rest here on the bench?” Alyrra says. “You have a long day ahead of you.”

  Jasmine obeys, shooting a derisive glance my way. Mina had been terse yesterday evening, saying very little other than to inform me the princess had asked after me, and that I cannot abandon my duties without notice. No doubt Jasmine and Zaria enjoyed the fact that I’d disappeared without a word, to all appearances proving myself unfit for my position. Jasmine probably expects I’m about to be chastised—or relieved of my duties. I can’t bring myself to care.

  Alyrra leads me along a winding gravel path into the trees. The uneven footing does not help my aching feet at all.

  “You intend to leave,” Alyrra says as the woods hide Jasmine from sight. I can still see a flash of her yellow skirt through the trees, but Alyrra’s voice is low enough that it will not reach her.

  I focus on the princess, on the way she watches me, her expression grim. Well, that’s not my fault either. “Forgive me, zayyida, but I do not think I am suited to the politics of such a position. I can stay through the wedding if you wish it, but no longer.”

  “I am sorry for how—for what happened yesterday.”

  “The horse’s head?” I ask bluntly. “Or the guard who cornered me about it? Or the fact that I actually feared what he might do?”

  “Falada—the horse. He was a friend of mine,” Alyrra begins. “I do not understand the magic at work through him, but I wished him laid to rest.”

  “I understand.” But I’m not interested in remaining here, and she’s wise enough to hear what I don’t say.

  She grimaces and looks away, through the trees toward Jasmine. “I didn’t think things would go as they did. Please don’t leave, Amraeya.” She takes a breath as if bracing herself and turns to me. “I would like you to learn more about the snatchers.”

  I stiffen. Filadon must surely have reported my questions about the snatchers to Kestrin, and so Alyrra knows. Unless she read me so easily from our conversation on the walls. Either way, she knows this is the one thing that would keep me. I swallow and say, “I thought you didn’t intend to look into them.” But that’s not right either. “No, you just wished to test me first, didn’t you?”

  She nods. “They are not to be trifled with. You must be both brave and able to keep your work secret in order to help me with them.”

  I fist my fingers into the fabric of my skirts. But there is no investigating the snatchers, is there? At least not according to the shopkeeper. I wouldn’t even know where to start without getting myself killed. In truth, investigating the snatchers myself wasn’t my plan in coming here—I just meant to find out what was being done. But can I really walk away if I’m the one who can do something?

  Alyrra tilts her head, watching me. “I have a contact in the city who may be able to shed some light on who they are, how they operate. One of my friends in the s
table will be able to take you to meet him. If you will go.”

  “I take it,” I venture, “that your contact is not entirely on the right side of the law.” If he were, she wouldn’t need me to parley with him. She could invite him in and chat with him here.

  Alyrra offers me a crooked smile, unexpectedly endearing in its wryness. “No,” she says. “Not entirely.”

  I don’t want to suddenly find that I like her, that she reminds me a bit of Niya, even down to the secrets she has allowed me to hold for her. This woman ordered a man to corner me, to intimidate me, to stop just short of assaulting me. Admittedly, I don’t know what her exact orders were, and I do know she apologized for the bruises I gained in escaping Captain Matsin. And he apologized as well. Light and shadow! I don’t want to be reasonable about this. I’m not even sure what reasonable is.

  “I have to be able to trust you,” I blurt. “I can’t wonder if—if something that happens to me is because you ordered it.”

  “You have my word,” Alyrra says, meeting my gaze steadily. “I will not test you again, nor ever order any harm to you.”

  Is that enough? Are there other things I should ask to protect myself?

  Alyrra goes on, her voice almost pleading. “If you take this on, the discretion you must practice will protect you as much as any of the people you come into contact with. The snatchers will not abide someone learning about them.”

  She’s still asking my forgiveness, still trying to explain. Looking at her, I remember Seri’s laughter, and her family’s sorrow. I remember every child who has been lost from our village over the years, and I understand completely. The snatchers are ruthless. And I will do everything in my power to stop them.

  “I understand,” I say quietly. “How do I meet your contact?”

  Alyrra grins at me, looking both young and so much older at the same time. “A ride and a walk. I’ll arrange it for you.”

  “I look forward to it,” I say. Especially the ride, though I don’t admit that aloud.