The Theft of Sunlight

by Intisar Khanani

  Alyrra shakes her head. “Not at this point, Rae, unless you can see another method to uncover more information.”

  “In which case,” Garrin says quickly, “let me know. I’ll be happy for your insight, but, given that you’re being followed, it may be best if you step back as much as possible.”

  I nod, only because I don’t have another angle to investigate. But I’ll keep thinking about it. And it’s quite possible Kirrana will come up with something as well.

  I wouldn’t be surprised if she did.

  Chapter

  42

  A page arrives with two notes for me as I am getting ready to attend Alyrra to dinner. I very nearly snatch them from his hand, gasping my thanks. It is the same page who brought Bren’s notes, but an initial glance tells me the topmost one, at least, is not from him.

  It’s from Kirrana. I sit down in my desk chair and read it with relief. She is perfectly fine, enjoying her time with her family, and her father will bring her back this evening. She’ll be sure to be careful and stay in the palace complex until she hears further from me. Therefore, I am not to worry.

  I grin and send up a word of thanks before opening the second note. This one is, indeed, from Bren. It says only:

  I thought you said you wouldn’t leave the palace. My man tells me he followed you all the way to the docks and back without your noticing a thing. Would you please take a guard with you next time?—Bren

  I lean against the chair back, the letter dangling from my fingertips. It was just Bren being overprotective. There is no other danger; no one has discovered what Kirrana and I have been working on. All is well.

  It is almost too good to be true. Silly Bren, watching over me like a mother hen and scaring me half to death. I will have to let Alyrra know when I can catch her alone.

  “Ready to go?” Mina asks from across the room, focused on putting the last touches on her makeup.

  “Yes,” I say, and hide the letters away.

  The evening party goes well enough. The others manage most of what needs to be done, and I just smile and chat amiably with whoever addresses me, generally aware that, in fact, the court still seems given to thinking rather partially of me. The women offer me condescending smiles, the men nod to me from around the room, and no one lets the foreign prince come anywhere near me. It’s all rather wonderful.

  I watch Alyrra’s brother closely, and he seems brighter today than he did before the wedding, his pale eyes alight. I cannot imagine why, though. He spends most of his time standing aloof, rarely speaking to anyone other than his mother, the queen. Our nobles, while they greet him politely, do not even attempt to engage him. If they have rallied around me, they have positively flocked around the princess, according her every courtesy of her station and acknowledging her place before them. It must grate on him, the realization that he has ensured her their support where she had to work for it before.

  By the end of the evening, my foot is hurting once again, my ankle aching and at least a few blisters burst. I’m grateful when the royals retire early, Kestrin and the king walking together with Alyrra to the royal wing, all of us attendants trailing behind them.

  Alyrra moves to the door to her suite, and Kestrin winks at her, promising to meet her soon, before moving farther down the hall with his father, toward his own door. It’s quite sweet how he ensures she has her own space, and is comfortable in the space they share. He will no doubt wait in his own sitting room until she has made herself comfortable in their bedroom.

  We pass through the empty rooms and into the bedchamber. Zaria goes to pour Alyrra a cup of almond milk. I shift; we don’t usually walk Alyrra all the way in and I wonder if she simply forgot to dismiss us this time.

  “A lovely evening, but oh! I am tired,” Alyrra says, moving toward the bed. The blankets do not lie quite flat, a few larger wrinkles disturbing the surface. Odd, that. Shouldn’t they have been pulled taut by the maids?

  I blink at the bed as Mina says something and the princess laughs in return. “I know,” she says, sitting on the edge of the bed, near one of the wrinkles. “I’ll just sit for a moment, and then you can—”

  “Get away!” I cry, leaping forward. I catch Alyrra’s elbow and yank her off the bed as the wrinkle contracts in on itself. My wound shrieks with pain—I should not have used that arm. But I can hear a faint rasping sound, a warning I’ve heard twice out on the plains, one that anyone would be a fool to ignore, wounded or not.

  “What?” Alyrra asks, stumbling.

  “Back, back,” I gasp through the pain.

  “You’re acting like a madwoman, Amraeya,” Jasmine says, rounding on me. “There’s nothing wrong with the bed. See?”

  “No—don’t,” I manage, stepping forward, good hand out, as Jasmine yanks off the bedclothes.

  She screams.

  An orange-and-white saw-scaled viper balances precariously on the edge of the bed, its body easily as thick around as my wrist. Startled, it throws back its head and then slides off the bed in a heap, right onto my feet.

  I freeze. It writhes once, righting itself and disappearing completely beneath the hem of my skirt. I can feel it rasping its scales against each other, its weight heavy over my feet, cool snakeskin wrapped around one ankle. Its warning rsss-rsss sounds beneath the ongoing, gasping shrieks issuing from Jasmine’s mouth.

  “Rae?” Alyrra says softly.

  I don’t move, except to speak. “Get out. All the rest of you get out. Jasmine. Listen to me.”

  She takes a gasping breath, and while her mouth remains open, the screams stop.

  “If you move quickly, the viper will attack you. You have to move slowly, slide your feet backward. Don’t lift them. You must not scare it.”

  “Scare it?” Zaria demands from somewhere behind me. “You’re—”

  “Out,” Alyrra says, brooking no argument. “Now. Mina, you too.”

  “You too, zayyida,” I say. My hands are beginning to shake. I curl my wounded arm against my chest, wrap my other over it to still my body. I cannot afford to frighten the snake lying over my feet.

  “Alyrra!” Kestrin’s voice breaks through the room. I can’t see what Alyrra does, don’t dare look back, but he says nothing more. I hear the thud of footsteps slow as they near. They’re coming from a little farther away—the door to Kestrin’s suite.

  “A snake,” Alyrra says softly. “It’s on Rae’s feet right now. Jasmine, move back.”

  “Gather everyone in the outer room,” the king orders an unseen attendant, voice cool and sure. He must have still been with Kestrin in the hallway when Jasmine started screaming. No wonder it took them a few moments to reach us. “Send a quad in to me.”

  Kestrin eases into view, moving slowly toward Jasmine. “Veria, step back.”

  “Slowly,” I breathe, but she doesn’t hear me, or perhaps she simply can’t manage it. She takes a fast step back, jerky with fear. The snake’s coils tighten.

  “No—” I raise an arm toward Jasmine.

  She shrieks and throws herself tumbling back. Her foot arcs through the air before my skirt. The snake rears into view and darts at it, fangs bared. It’s going to bite her, and with venom like that—

  Kestrin’s hand comes up, fingers outstretched at the edge of my vision—and the snake bounces off the air.

  As I stare, it pulls itself back beneath the hem of my skirts, scales sawing against each other, and wraps itself even more firmly around my ankles, rough against my skin. Faintly, I can hear the king murmuring something, but I can’t make sense of it, of anything really.

  What just happened? I glance toward the prince and find him looking at me in return, eyes dark as the viper’s. Then he reaches out, hooks an arm around Jasmine, who is lying on her back and sobbing, utterly unaware of what just happened, and pulls her slowly away. By the time he’s gotten her to the door, a quad has arrived and they get her the rest of the way out.

  “You too, veriana,” the king says to Alyrra. “We’ll need Mag
e Hedhrawy, I think. I don’t believe we have any snake tamers here.”

  Captain Matsin’s voice sounds from the doorway. “I’ll send for him.”

  Alyrra slowly shifts back, and then it is just the prince and me in the room.

  “Kestrin?” the king asks from the doorway.

  “I’ll stay here. Send in Hedhrawy when he arrives.”

  A silence, and then the king says, “Kelari, you’re doing well. Hold on a little longer and we’ll have you free.”

  And then the door shuts behind him.

  Kestrin moves slowly, staying against the wall until I can see him from the corner of my eye again without turning my head. I can feel his gaze on my face, studying me.

  What I saw just now, that was magic. Kestrin’s magic. He isn’t supposed to have a talent any more than my sister is. Except she’s a horse rancher’s daughter who helps with local births and takes care of broken animals. He is the crown prince, in line to be king one day. A sorcerer king. That’s one big secret right there, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want me to know it.

  Kestrin takes one final step to the side. I turn my head to meet his gaze. He says nothing, his expression inscrutable. Gone is the mischievous young man of the wedding, the laughing prince of the sweetening. For just a moment, I think of the Black Scholar with his ebony robes and shining intellect and cool, calculating approach to murder. But Kestrin is nothing like him. No, he can’t be. I’ve seen how he protects Alyrra, seen his kindness and joy, and I don’t believe he’ll hurt me for this. At least, I don’t want to believe it.

  I’ll just have to be smart about how I navigate this. Which means I need to say something, make it clear I’m not a threat, that I can be trusted. But what?

  Kestrin eases down until he’s squatting against the wall, his eyes trained on the bottom of my skirt. “You’re very calm,” he says. He glances up and catches the look of disbelief on my face. “You are, at least compared to Jasmine.”

  “It was—very lucky the snake pulled back. I thought for sure it would bite her.” For how low I keep my voice, it’s still too bright and not at all convincing. Kestrin considers me in silence.

  “Don’t you think, zayyid?” I ask hopefully. If he will just play along with the idea that I didn’t see anything, then it will all be all right. Won’t it?

  “Are you afraid it will bite you now?” he asks quietly.

  I flash back to the Scholar again, smiling over our conversation on political philosophy, and then pressing a dagger to my wrist. No. The Scholar might have had manners and intelligence, but he didn’t have morals. The prince does. He must. I shake my head to clear it. “I’m not in any danger from it.”

  “You’ve seen this type of snake before?”

  “It’s a saw-scaled viper. Their venom is extremely potent, but he’s comfortable right now. He won’t attack.” Not unless he’s incited to, which Jasmine has already illustrated for us. I should maybe not have said any of that.

  Kestrin smiles humorlessly. “You are perfectly safe regardless, don’t you think? I would venture to say Alyrra would never have left you here if she didn’t believe it.”

  No, she wouldn’t have. Oh, thank God. She must have known Kestrin’s secret as well, known that he could and would keep me safe regardless of my knowing his secret. That is a great deal more comforting than having to convince myself of Kestrin’s moral strength. And apparently, he was perfectly aware of my uncertainty on that score.

  “You see. You are perfectly safe, kelari.” He glances to the snake, which now rests silently about my feet, then back up to me. “I should like to rely on your confidence, much as the princess does.”

  I’m not sure it can really be this easy, but I’m not about to argue. “You have it, zayyid.”

  “I thank you.” He smiles again, and this time there is warmth to it. “I hear someone coming. We’ll have this snake off you in no time, and all will be well. I would do it myself, but”—he shrugs—“I have certain appearances to keep up, and you said yourself you are in no danger.”

  “Thanks a lot,” I grumble, surprising a huff of laughter from him.

  A voice calls through the door, and a moment later a man in mage’s robes steps through—Hedhrawy, no doubt. He looks vaguely familiar. I must have seen him once or twice during the wedding festivities. He is tall and broad shouldered, with a slight belly nudging at the front of his robes.

  He nods to me and takes a moment to confer with the prince, bending down to inspect the snake as they speak. Then he tells me, “I am going to persuade the snake to fall asleep. Once it is more lethargic, you can step away and we will remove it to a basket.”

  “Do you have a stick?” I ask. “Preferably with a forked end?”

  He tilts his head. “You have experience with snakes?”

  “Enough that I’d like to pin its head down once it’s sleepy, just in case.” Even sleepy snakes can wake up. And they’re not always in a good mood when they do.

  “We’ll call for something of the sort,” Kestrin says. “If you will start, Master Hedhrawy, I’ll see to that.”

  It doesn’t take long. Hedhrawy doesn’t even reach for the large ruby amulet hanging from a chain about his neck, so small is the magic needed to nudge the flow of blood and breath through the snake toward sleep. Its coils relax about my ankles. Kestrin reappears with another guard and what appears to be roasting fork from the kitchens. The guard carries a colorfully woven covered basket, no doubt to house the snake.

  “Don’t hurt it,” I say fretfully. “It didn’t ask to be put here.”

  The mage and the guard stare at me, but Kestrin doesn’t seem to mind my rudeness. “We’ll take care, kelari. Here.” He approaches another step before the guard comes to his senses, stops the prince, and gently presses the fork against the base of the snake’s neck himself.

  I slip one foot free, take a half step back, and slip the other one free. The snake remains still, proving my roasting fork precautions unnecessary. The last I see of it is the mass of coils resting loosely on the floor as the prince ushers me from the room.

  Chapter

  43

  I sleep the sleep of the dead, for which I am grateful: no echoing memories of the brickmaker’s boys, or the Black Scholar’s cold voice and colder blades, or the foreign prince’s violence, or the rsss-rsss of a saw-scaled viper. I wake to a faint but persistent knock on the door.

  “Go away,” Mina groans from her bed.

  I push myself out of bed and hobble to the door, my turned foot aching each time it comes down on the cold tiles. I have just enough presence of mind to grab a shawl and pull it around my shoulders before cracking open the door.

  A page waits on the other side—a girl, which is unusual but not unheard of. It also explains why she was allowed in at such an hour, while a male page would have been told to wait at the hall door, or come back when we were awake.

  “A letter for you, kelari,” she says. “I was told it was urgent.”

  “Thank you.”

  She dips a curtsy and departs. I go to sit at my desk and unshutter a single pane from the luminae lamp. Mina rolls over and hides her head under the blankets.

  I frown, looking at the envelope. I don’t recognize the name at all. I open the envelope as quietly as possible, scan the contents, and then find I do not know what I have read. I squeeze my eyes shut a moment, my heart thudding, and start over.

  Kelari Amraeya,

  I am writing to you with regard to our daughter, Kirrana. Upon your advice, my husband decided to accompany her back to the palace yesterday evening. On their way, they were set upon by a group of assailants. My daughter is gone. My husband was left unconscious, and he has only just now awakened and been brought home, and told me his story.

  Please, if you have any idea who it was that posed our daughter the danger you feared, tell me. We are searching for her, but we have no idea who has taken her, where she could be. If you have any information at all, we would be forever in your
debt.

  Siyela

  Gone. My stomach turns to stone. Kirrana is gone. I turn the letter over in my hand, fold it and refold it. Try to think.

  I need to speak to Alyrra. She’ll be able to order an investigation, get the right people involved looking for Kirrana. Who is gone. Like Seri. Only worse—only violently, her father beaten unconscious. Targeted.

  I lurch from my seat. Out in the main hallway, I see quads posted before both Alyrra’s door and Kestrin’s. I clutch the letter tighter in my hand. The princess is asleep, of course she is, with Kestrin, and I don’t have the right to go barging in there. But Kirrana is in danger. I have to do something.

  “Kelari?” Captain Matsin detaches himself from the quad by Alyrra’s door and moves toward me. “The royal family is having a private conversation right now and cannot be disturbed.”

  I understand. I do. An assassination attempt, or something close to it, was made on her life last night. Perhaps they’ve learned who placed the snake in her bed and they’re deciding what to do. But Kirrana’s life is at risk now. I look up at Matsin. If I can’t get in to see Alyrra, then he is my next best choice. He’s loyal to the prince and princess, and honorable in his way. Even if I can’t trust that he won’t carry out an order against me, I can trust him up to that point. It will have to be enough.

  “Could I have a word with you?”

  It doesn’t occur to me that there’s really nowhere to actually have a word with him until he pauses where he is. Then he gestures me on, and as I reach him he falls into step with me. We stop at a door just before the great sweeping staircase that the royals use. It leads to a small, windowless guard room I never even noticed; the guards within immediately step out at Matsin’s request.

  He leaves the door partially open, for propriety’s sake, and turns to me. “Something has happened?” he hazards. The bright yellow glow from a luminae stone lights his features and gleams on the oiled leather and polished bronze of his armor. I’m still in my nightshirt and pants, my shawl doing very little for propriety, but it hardly matters in this moment.