My hands fell to the side as my mouth dropped open, stricken as if he had struck me across the face. “Ben—”
“That’s enough,” Harshad said. “It appears that you both have significant work to do. While you are strong, you must work on your weaknesses.”
“Ben doesn’t have a weakness,” I insisted. “He can use his leg to fight just fine. I caught him off guard, that’s all.”
Ben huffed. He exchanged a few words with Amir before he left, but I was too far away to hear. All I could see was Ben’s deepening scowl and Amir’s hardened expression.
Harshad had me clean up the room as my final task. I had to put the equipment away, mop up the floor, and wipe down the room.
I did not want to; it was something that reminded me of my days as a servant, something I was as eager to escape for my dignity as much as my bitterness. Eventually, I resigned myself to the task, taking it on as a punishment for hurting Ben.
Amir stayed behind to help. We worked in silent harmony, our movements smoothly synchronized, as if we were working on our waltzing.
It was only after Harshad left the room that Amir finally said anything. “You did well for your first lesson, Eleanora.”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t feel like it.”
“You are not the judge of this matter. Harshad is, and I can tell he was satisfied.”
“If this is what it is like to win his approval, I’m not sure I want it.” I hid my gaze, focusing on scrubbing scuff marks off the floor. “I did not want to hurt Ben.”
“His weakness is not his leg.”
“I know.” I lifted my chin proudly. “It’s not going to stop him from being a good fighter. He can do anything he wants, just like anyone else.”
“That is not quite true,” Amir said. “If he is to be a good fighter, he has to acknowledge his shortcomings. That includes his physical ones as well as his emotional ones. Ben is able to compensate for his injured leg. He has done it for years, and he is able to work through our exercises with accommodations.”
“You just said that his leg was not a weakness.”
“And it is not. You are.”
I stopped moving, my eyes wide. “I am?”
“He loves you, as much as a brother can love his sister, and he cannot easily forget that connection.” Amir gave me a wistful smile. “I know that from my own sister.”
“You have a sister?”
He nodded, and I blinked in surprise. It was not just Ferdy who I did not know as well as I should have.
“There is a reason that Lady POW requested that he fight you. He is clearly worried for you, but he did not say why.”
“Lady POW wanted him to fight me?” My voice raised in anger and surprise. “I can’t believe—”
Amir gave me a warning glance. “Things are not always as they seem. She talked with him after your return.”
“I know that. I thought she was sending him out to find Tulia and others.”
“Your grandmother is not worried about Tulia. She was injured, but she has lived a long life, and she knows how to take care of herself.” Amir crossed his arms. “Lady POW wants to know more about you. She knows you are keeping something from her.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Well, that would upset Lady POW. She does not mind keeping her own secrets, but she is quick to seek out others’.”
“Is your brother right to worry for you, Eleanora?”
Before I could think through it, I shook my head. I had promised to keep Ferdy’s secret safe, and I did not know yet if telling my brother was a good idea or not. He would be furious that Ferdy had lied to me, and then there was the fact that Ferdy knew more about Karl than he had revealed.
With no substantial proof leading us to Lord Maximillian and our only other leads missing, Ben would not hesitate to confront Ferdy.
“Are you certain?”
At the note of sympathy in his voice, I was unable to brush aside his concern. Lying to Ben to keep Ferdy safe was necessary, and lying to Lady POW, knowing she had her own secrets, was nothing. But lying to Amir, a man my mother had loved and trusted, felt very different.
I will have to tell him something.
I sighed. “I’m coming to the conclusion that I will have to let my friends go if I am going to succeed as a member of the Order.”
It was not the complete truth, but it was not a complete lie, either.
“Knowing what I do know of you, Eleanora, I would suspect it is more than that.” He gave me a small smile. “What about your beloved?”
I blushed at his perceptiveness. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
“I already know about him, and I’ve kept that information from the others,” Amir reminded me gently.
“Why?” I narrowed my eyes.
“Because I know firsthand how difficult it is to face scorn from your grandmother for young love.” He shifted his stance, clearly uncomfortable. “You have my sympathies, Eleanora. Heartbreak is never easy. It was not meant to be, for either side.”
He was likely right; I knew Ferdy was not happy with the situation between us. My chest constricted at the thought of him, alone and hurting, and all the more so knowing it was my fault.
I shook my head, clearing away all the images of Ferdy suffering. He had his friends from both the Cabal and the castle to help stave off his loneliness and disappointment.
Glancing up at Amir, I saw his eyes had blurred over with memories, too.
“What are you thinking about? My mother?”
Amir shrugged, a crimson color lighting his amber cheeks. “It is hard not to, with you around. But there are others who I have caused to suffer. Your mother is not alone in that regard.”
“You had another beloved beside Máma?”
“I have had some passing fancies in my lifetime. I promise Naděžda was the only true love of my life, but there were others who were heartbroken by my devotion to her.”
Other women would have loved Amir, I thought. While we had been at odds the first several times we met, I knew he was a gentle, virtuous man, one who was knowledgeable and insightful, and even after all these years, he remained loyal to my mother’s memory.
“Of course,” Amir continued with a small smile, “no one was more disappointed in me for loving Naděžda than my father. That one continues to sting the most.”
He glanced down at his right hand, where his old scar scorched through the warm brown of his skin, an inch above his knuckles.
“Does it hurt?” I asked the question before remembering it was not proper to do so.
Amir did not seem to notice. “The scar itself? No. The pain of rejection it represents? That is a different matter.”
“What happened? My mother didn’t do that, did she?”
“Harshad was right. You do ask a lot of questions.”
I could feel my nostrils flare as I made a face at him, but Amir only laughed.
“You did say before you would tell me more about her. Why not tell me now? It’ll give me something else to think about while we clean. I could use the distraction.” I held up my rag. “This brings up bad memories. I hated cleaning for Cecilia.”
“If you make it a point that I owe you for the years of your pain, it is a poor argument.”
“I have been told I am quite determined. Ben, Tulia, and plenty of others have said so.”
Even Ferdy had noticed that, seeing my determination and kindness at my father’s funeral. I faltered for a moment, wondering if it was as much of a gift as he thought it was. My determination to find truth and protect others seemed to erode my kindness of late, and I could not say if it was a good thing or not.
Maybe I was more kind when I was a child.
“Tulia was the one who could have told Lady POW about you and your brother. She is more at fault for your pain.”
“I have forgiven Tulia for that.”
“Have you not forgiven me, then?” Amir’s voice was slightly teasing, but I worried he was sincere. Before I could say anything, he n
odded slowly. “I suppose you are right. I did say I would tell you more. I will start by saying Naděžda was not the one who gave me the scar, but she was part of the reason for it.”
He turned away and went back to helping me clean. I saw the scar, a strange, dotted loop on his hand, gleaming white against the warm tan of his skin.
I had seen the shape of it before, and I said so. “That’s the same symbol that’s on the journal you have—the one you took from me when we first met in Prague.”
I saw his mustache twitch at the mention of the journal. “What is it?” I asked.
“There is another reason Lady POW is not afraid for Tulia,” Amir admitted. “She thinks she is the one behind the disappearance of your stepmother and the rest of the household.”
“What?” My mouth dropped open in surprise. “Why?”
“Tulia is Jakub’s half-sister. She had connections to the League, even if she was not a full member. Dr. Artha’s priest sent out a message to her, remember?”
To Míra, and the Light.
“He sent word out about the threat to the League then,” I said. “But Dr. Artha was one of the Order’s correspondents.”
“Yes.” Amir’s forehead creased with worried lines. “There are plenty of us who work for both the League and the Order, but it seems strange he would send for only them.”
“Perhaps it was because they were close friends?” I suggested, remembering the endearment from the letter, saying word had been sent to “my sweet Míra.”
“That would confound Lady POW,” Amir agreed wryly.
“What does this have to do with the journal?” I wondered why the mention of my mother’s journal had sparked the change in topic. As I waited for him to say something, I knew it could only be something bad.
“The journal is missing,” he admitted. “I have not seen it since the ball.”
“It’s gone? Where? Did someone take it?” I was stunned. I could well believe others would want to read my mother’s journal, but I was not sure who would have recognized it.
“Those are my questions, too, I can assure you.”
“Did you finish reading it?” I asked. “Before it disappeared?”
“I finished reading up to where your mother admitted to running into Jakub while she was on her mission, and that is it.” Amir gave me an apologetic shrug. “I would have read it faster, but seeing Naděžda’s writing again is a joyful sort of pain.”
I decided not to chastise him for that. I would have lingered over every word myself if I knew how to read Arabic.
Instead, I shook my head. “This is terrible. We have to get it back.”
“I would appreciate your continued silence to Lady POW in this manner,” Amir said. “She might have taken it too, but Tulia is the more likely culprit.”
I did not know what to say. Tulia was hardly a thief, that I knew of, even if she did not like my grandmother. But I was coming to trust Amir.
I did not know what to think.
“Finish telling me about your scar,” I said. We could worry about the journal when we found Tulia. “What does that symbol mean?”
“It is an Arabic letter, the noon, one that marks the nassara, the Nazarenes,” Amir said. He paused for a long moment as if he was trying to calm himself, before he finally continued. “One of my cousins gave it to me at my father’s orders, after I told him of my conversion to Christianity.”
“Your father had you marked for converting?” My mouth dropped open in surprise.
“It is the mark of the deepest betrayal, for a Muslim to convert,” Amir replied. “We do not only betray our upbringing, we dishonor our families and taint all the good we have been given in the name of Allah and his prophet. Religion is a way to understand and demonstrate the best life has to offer, from honor and truth and compassion, and for both the Muslim and Christian, rejecting it cuts sorely into the heart of those who believe.
“I was my father’s only son, so my cousins took on the task of restoring honor to the family. My father gave them this dagger to take care of it. They carved it into my skin and then prepared to kill me.”
He reached down to his side where his dagger, the Wahabite Jambiya, was carefully secured.
Eying the mark once more, I grimaced. “It must have been painful.”
“It was,” Amir said with a nod. “Your mother was working with Xiana at the time, and it took both of their skills to stop me from bleeding out or losing full function in my hand.”
“Xiana?” I barely managed to recall her name, horrified by Amir’s experience. “Oh, the lady who taught you about herbs?”
“Yes. She is part of the Order, too, and hopefully you will get to meet her soon. Harshad has sent for her to join us here in Prague.”
“If she helped save you, I am sure I will like her. It was fortunate that she was there with my mother so they could save you.”
“My sister was not so fortunate.”
At his remark, I did want to know what happened. As I had learned before, there was a cost to knowing the truth, and I was quickly finding out that cost was both freeing and sobering.
“Halal was my older sister. She distracted my family so Xiana and your mother could smuggle me out of my family’s estate, so I could escape. Halal did not want me to die. She tried to understand why I did this to our family, even if she did not agree with my decision. She worked hard to foster peace between me and my parents. But when I escaped, she was killed.”
“She was killed because she did not want them to kill you?” I barely felt my lips move at the question. I felt my heart ache in pain for Amir and his sister.
I knew Ben was angry at me, but I suddenly wanted to go and hug him, reassuring him, and myself, of our affection for each other.
“You are young yet, but even you know there are things worth dying for.”
“Dying for something is different than killing for something,” I said slowly.
“The first time I killed a man, I did it to protect your mother.” Amir tried to give me a small smile. “I considered that a matter of deep honor and love, even though it was gruesome. But that is another story, of course.”
Amir slipped into silence. I reached over and patted his hand, covering his scar with my hand.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.
“Do not be sorry for me. I ask that you do not judge my family. I have known deeper betrayals than theirs, but it is good of me to forgive them.”
“Who could betray you more than family?”
Amir’s lips twitched into a wry smirk. “Those who would become family, of course.”
I wondered if he was talking about my mother, but he shook his head before I could ask. “Forgive my grievances, Eleanora. It was one of the hardest things I ever had to do, to first leave my family, and then forgive them. In spite of the pain between us, I still love them, and there are many values we still share. There is much good we can affirm.”
“You are a better person than me. It is too easy to hate people.” I thought of Cecilia, and how she had treated both me and Ben over the years. As cruel as it was, it was nothing compared to Amir’s sorrow. I clenched my fist, struggling not to hate Amir’s family for him. “I’m sorry I asked you about it.”
“It is better to remember,” Amir said. He turned his hand over and patted my hand gently, the same way my father used to. “We must remember, too, that blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. And we can only mourn properly when we remember the depths of our losses.”
At his own words, I thought of my own faith, and how much it was a cornerstone of my own life. I had been born into it, but Amir had given up his entire childhood and his family to gain it. I silently prayed for his comfort, but I already felt like he had been further cheated with the loss of my mother.
As if he knew what I was thinking, Amir said, “It is much better for me to remember Naděžda than forget her, too.”
It was hard to speak at the sudden lump in my throat. “I wis
h she was still with us.”
“She is,” Amir replied. “She is here, even if she is not. We will see her again one day, Eleanora. Some people say that religion only causes pain, but there is much pain tied to goodness. If all truth is God’s truth, then all goodness is his, too.”
When we first met, I had envied Amir’s time with my mother. Now, as we stood there, having lost so much, I wondered if I had been strangely spared from missing her even more than I already did. I clung to Amir’s certainty that he would see her again, with the further hope I would, too.
“I should have asked a question about fighting instead,” I said, resuming my cleaning.
“Religion and fighting share something very significant, and that is why it is actually good to consider matters of faith and its practices alongside battles.”
“What do they share?” I asked.
“Truth.” Amir gave me a smile. “And, by extension, love.”
“Love?” The word might as well have been one of the Arabic words inscribed on his dagger. “What does that have to do with truth?”
“True truth is unable to be separated from love, and you know as well as I do, that God is love. If I were allowed to guess, Lady Penelope and Harshad’s teachings have failed to serve you because they have lost that connection.”
I snorted. “You are likely correct. I didn’t know love had anything to do with any of this.”
“They are set in their ways, and they are not used to having their authority, or their intentions questioned, let alone by you.”
“Me?”
“You look so much like your mother,” Amir said. “When they look at you, with your dark locks and your bright eyes, I would not be surprised to find they see her looking back at them. It is a hard thing, to live between times.”
“You said before I looked like my father.”
“You have the narrow facial structure of a Bohemian, as well as the curls your mother wished for all the days of her life.” Amir shrugged. “But your expressions, and even the way you flaunt authority, surely reminds them of happier... of the past.”
I did not disagree with him. Lady POW had called me “Eleanor” several times before, and it always seemed hard for her to acknowledge her mistake. I suddenly wondered if Lady Penelope had offered me the chance to join the Order of the Crystal Daggers to relive her days with my mother as much as I had accepted in hopes of connecting with my mother’s memory.
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