When we’d discovered that the Night Diamond talisman was in the ruined desert town of Tigrylon, I’d stopped worrying about hearing back from my sister’s husband. Now, I was desperate for the Queen of Thieves to bring me a reply to my letter.
“Well, until then, I suppose you better just focus on not letting this tournament flop.”
“I’m meeting Safiyya in a bit.” I rolled my eyes, tucking my hair behind my ears. “It’s hardly going to be difficult. Which gives us plenty of time to investigate the clue from the ring.” I twisted the band around to reread the inscription on the ring for what felt like the hundredth time. “He who sold our names to a prince… We assume the he is you, right? And the part about selling names… Does that mean anything to you?”
“I told you, I don’t remember anything about being bound to the ring. Especially selling any names. Pass me a date?”
I lifted a sticky date from the platter and placed it in front of the beetle. Tarak rubbed his two front legs together in anticipation.
“So our only real clue is the prince bit.” I reached out for a map and spread it across the rug in front of us, examining the twelve kingdoms inked onto the parchment. It was a map I knew well, with Khiridesh in the center and Astaran to the north, above the Tigrib Desert. The only places farther north were the Ossur mountains and the isolated kingdom of Phoenitia above them.
I hung my chin over the cushion as my gaze ran over the mountains, kingdoms, and seas. “We have princes from half the twelve kingdoms visiting the palace, and it’s safe to say those princes will be direct ancestors of the royals who were around when you were trapped in the ring.”
“Pretty safe. Royals don’t like to marry outside of royalty.” Tarak nibbled at the date. “They tend to be quite inbred.”
“Hey.” I scowled at the beetle. “I’m a royal.”
“And have you considered marrying someone who isn’t? Think of the children.”
“I’d think about shutting your beetle mouth, unless you fancy a stint in this teapot,” I muttered, tapping the ceramic pot beside me in what I hoped was a threatening manner.
“Oo-eer, I’m quaking in my shell.” Tarak barely looked up from the date he was chomping on.
I reached out and grabbed him.
“Hey, put me down! I take it back!” His legs flailed as I lowered him down onto the map, placing him in the middle of Astaran.
“Why don’t we go over which kingdoms you’ve spent the most time in?”
“Well, when I’ve previously been summoned to your world, I probably spent most of my time in…” The beetle spun around as if to get his bearings, then scuttled south-east.
“Nahraj?”
“That’s right–” Tarak fell quiet, his antennae twitching.
Outside, footsteps crunched through the gravel.
“Zadie, there you are!” The red curtains parted, letting in a flash of sunlight. Safiyya strode toward me, skirts billowing, a book clasped to her chest. “This was the last place I’d have thought to find you.” Her usual four handmaids hurried in her wake, then Lotus slipped in behind them.
“The women’s pavilion?”
“I’m so excited you’re helping with the tournament.” Safiyya’s voice was breathless as she flopped down next to me, her flowing silver dress pooling around her. She slammed the giant book she carried down on the map in front of us.
“No!” I yelped.
Has Safiyya just squished my djinni? There was no smoke, no smell of frankincense that told me he’d returned to the ring.
“What?” Safiyya looked at me quizzically.
“I mean, it’s more of a showcase, isn’t it? Every time you and Kassim call it a tournament I think of a dual to the death,” I garbled. “What’s this?” I grabbed the book, peering underneath to check Tarak wasn’t crushed against the back cover.
There was no sign of the beetle.
“It’s my wedding book.” Safiyya tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly businesslike.
“Your wedding book?”
The huge tome was filled to bursting with parchments and papers, cuttings and pieces of ribbon sprouting from the edges like fringe on a rug. It was exactly the kind of thing I could imagine Lalana putting together. My heart twisted a little at the thought. Hopefully I would hear something of my sister when I finally got a reply from her husband Ambar.
Safiyya’s wide eyes gleamed as she eased the book out of my hands. “The scribes compiled it for me. I’ve been adding to it for years.” She opened the book with a creak. “I thought I should show you my ideas.”
I nodded absently and glanced around, still looking around for Tarak. Where did he go?
The gauzy curtains swished and parted and a handmaid I didn’t recognize swept in. She headed straight for us, hips swaying as she walked. “Princess Zadie, your cardamom tea.”
“I didn’t ask for–” I looked up into the handmaid’s kohl-lined eyes. Purple eyes.
Tarak grinned and placed the cup and saucer down next to me with a clatter. Then he…she dropped onto the divan next to us.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
Tarak had previously told me he associated with male forms more than female, so I hadn’t even given much thought to the fact he could appear as a woman.
Like his male form, Tarak’s female form was…captivating. His features were slightly feline with rich, copper skin, full lips, and curves that resembled an hourglass. Even garbed in a simple handmaid’s dress, Tarak could have given Lalana a run for her money as the most beautiful woman in the twelve kingdoms. And spirits, did he stick out.
He draped a slender arm over the divan and ran a hand through his long, glossy locks so that his honey-colored highlights gleamed in the pinkish light.
Safiyya barely registered his arrival, still chattering away beside me. I tuned back in when she waved a sheet of parchment under my nose. I sat upright, crossing my legs on the cushion as I took it.
“You met the six suitors,” she said, “and Kassim said you’ll be able to advise me on things like politics. You know, which matches would be best for Astaran.” She gave a coy smile. “He’s afraid I’ll just choose the most handsome one.”
“A woman after my own heart.” We both looked up at Tarak’s voice. It was undoubtedly female, but with the same rich timbre as his male voice. He gave a high-pitched giggle and twirled a lock of hair around his finger. “I mean, politics is important, but remember you’ll have to look at him every day.”
Safiyya turned to me, bemused. “Who’s that?”
“Oh, this is my new handmaid, Tara…,” I improvised
Tarak gave a sweet smile and curled his fingers in a tiny wave.
“Thank you for your input, Tara.” I glared at Tarak before turning back to Safiyya.
I took the parchment, focusing on the task at hand. “Prince Rishi is a good match. He only has one older brother with no current heir.”
“Oh, okay.” Safiyya sounded subdued, no doubt at the thought of spending time with the most stuck-up prince of the lot.
“And then there’s Prince Diyan,” I moved on quickly. “He’ll never rule, since Sultanah Farideh passes the throne through the female line, but Nahraj would be a powerful ally.”
Safiyya toyed with the tassel on the cushion. “Prince Diyan seemed very shy.”
“Well, you might be the one to bring him out of his shell,” Tarak cooed. I threw him a withering glare and he snapped his mouth closed.
“I’d also recommend you prioritize spending time with Prince Cao, since an alliance with Lyani would expand our access to the Southern Coast.” I handed the parchment back to Safiyya.
“So I’ll make sure I get to know Prince Cao, Prince Diyan, and Prince Rishi,” Safiyya filed away one sheet of parchment before instantly pulling out another. “The first round of the tournament is the creative showcase tomorrow. I was thinking of holding it in the ancient gardens. What do you think?”
“That’s a great idea, S
afiyya.”
“And have you had any thoughts about the ball tomorrow evening?” She patted Lotus’s head, her eyes bright as she watched me.
“Well, it’ll be in the ballroom, of course…” I floundered. In truth I’d given it no thought. My gaze dropped to Lotus. “How about giving it a theme… like a masked animal ball?”
Safiyya clapped her hands together, “Oh I love that idea Zadie. Do you think everyone will come in costume? Is there enough time?”
“It’s not until tomorrow evening. That’s plenty of time to source something from the marketplace. I’ll make sure everyone’s told as soon as we’re finished here.”
A low purr rumbled through Lotus, and the tiger leapt to his feet.
“Elian!” The name sounded like a gasp on Safiyya’s lips. I followed her gaze to where the captain of the guard had parted the drapes and poked his head through.
“Sorry to interrupt, ladies, I know this is no place for a man.”
“Too right!” Tarak heckled. I glared at the djinni. Why did he have to make himself so obvious?
Elian actually looked a little embarrassed, some of his usual bravado seeping from him as every pair of female eyes turned to look at him. Lotus padded over and rubbed his head against the captain’s legs.
“Actually, I’m here for the princess. Zadie, that is.”
I jumped to my feet. “Oh spirits, our second training session. Am I late?”
“Only an hour,” he said drily.
I walked toward him. “I’m so sorry, Elian. I just got carried away planning with Safiyya...”
I glanced back at the princess who was staring down at her wedding book with wide, glassy eyes. “Do you mind if I go, Safiyya?”
“Oh no, it’s fine. We were almost finished, anyway.” The princess’s cheeks were flushed.
She seemed genuine, but I felt bad for leaving her. “I’ll make the announcement about the ball first,” I promised. An idea struck me. "And how about asking Elian to be your champion for the swordsmanship showcase?” I turned to the captain, certain he would be pleased to fight for Safiyya. “What do you say, Elian?”
“Of course.” The captain’s voice sounded clipped, his gaze averted from Safiyya’s. “It would be an honor, princess.”
Before Safiyya could respond, the curtains swept aside again and the vizier slid through, standing next to Elian.
What’s she doing here?
My eyes darted to Tarak, who still reclined on the divan, and I willed him to keep his mouth shut. He stuck out just from the way he looked and the vizier was already suspicious.
“Elian, what in the twelve kingdoms are you doing in the women’s pavilion?” The vizier asked, frowning at the captain.
He gave a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, “I was just here to fetch Princess Zadie. We have our–”
“What a coincidence, so am I,” she cut in, her eyes darting around the pavilion. They hovered on me, then rested on Tarak for a fraction of a second, before settling on Safiyya. “Apologies for disrupting you, Princess Safiyya, but I’m afraid my request for Princess Zadie’s time will trump the captain’s, as it comes from Prince Rishi.”
“Oh. Well, that’s okay,” said Safiyya amiably, looking between the vizier and Elian from her seat on the floor.
“What does he want?” I asked curtly, then caught my rude tone and checked myself. The prince was one of Safiyya’s suitors, after all. And one I’d suggested she get to know a little better. “I mean, how can I help?”
A slow smile spread across the vizier’s face. “I’m afraid the prince doesn’t like the green of his bed hangings. They gave him a bad night’s sleep. He’d like them to be switched for curtains in his royal colors.”
I ground my teeth. This was exactly the sort of thing that was a waste of my time. And the vizier could have easily asked one of the servants to help with Prince Rishi’s ridiculous request instead of bothering me. But if she was trying to bait me into neglecting my duties, then she’d have to try harder.
I forced a smile onto my face. “Of course. I’ll check in with Prince Rishi to make sure the replacement drapes are just the right shade of yellow.” I fixed Elian with a look, my brows high. “Looks like I’ll have to meet you at the training grounds later, captain.”
“Of course. We wouldn’t want to keep Prince Rishi waiting.” The captain’s eyes twinkled with amusement.
“Tara?” I inclined my head, gesturing for Tarak to leave with me. He slid wordlessly from the divan to my side. Both the vizier and Elian watched him, and I willed them not to comment on the sudden arrival of my brand new, utterly gorgeous handmaid.
I held my breath until we’d walked right through the gardens and were well out of sight.
Chapter Four
I shifted on my chair, trying to stop my eyes from glazing over as Prince Diyan recited a poem that he didn’t seem remotely close to finishing, the unraveled scroll almost touching the wooden floor of the stage.
Since the Astarian palace was historically a great patron of the arts, tradition dictated that a princess’s suitors must demonstrate the craftsmanship of their kingdoms for the first part of the tournament.
At Safiyya’s request, the terrace and pergola of the ancient gardens had been transformed into a makeshift stage, each prince taking turns to perform below crumbling columns laced with jasmine. It wasn’t our grandest garden, but it was our oldest, and an important part of Astaran’s heritage.
Safiyya had been right. This was the perfect place to host the creative showcase.
My gaze wandered from Prince Diyan and roamed the crowd. Safiyya sat front and center, surrounded by her delighted handmaids, clapping and gasping at all the right junctures as the princes performed. Most of the other princes and their attendants were seated on cushions behind the princess, shaded by drapes and fanned by servants.
I supposed I should make an effort and go and speak to some of the princes. At worst, it’d stop me falling asleep, and at best, I’d look like a dutiful sultanah, fulfilling my deal with Kassim. It might even give me some further clue to Tarak’s past.
I stood from my cushion and made my way along the row toward the blue-eyed Prince Cao. When he saw me coming, one of his attendants jumped up to make room for me on the cushion next to him.
“Princess Scheherazade, what a pleasure.” He greeted me in a low voice, so as not to disrupt the performance.
I sank onto the cushion. “Prince Cao, the pleasure is mine. And I told you, please call me Zadie.”
“And how are you enjoying the performances so far, Princess Zadie? Prince Diyan’s Nahraji poem is quite epic, is it not?” Cao’s turquoise eyes crinkled.
“Very epic,” I agreed, glancing up at the prince on stage. Spirits, he was still reading, gripping the edges of the scroll so tightly, his knuckles turned white. “Do you know the story? It’s about a sultanah who fell in love with a spirit.”
“I don’t,” Cao murmured, “but I assume it doesn’t end well. Stories never do when they involve spirits.”
“And does your kingdom have any famous stories involving spirits? Or histories? I imagine a kingdom as powerful as Lyani must have had more than a few spirits in its employ. Back in the day, of course.”
A look of confusion crossed Cao’s face, but then he broke into a smile. “The princess is teasing me, surely.” He reached forward for his glass and took a long, slow sip. “There are plenty of tales in our country. The Djinni and the Fisherman, The Sorceress and the Lamp, but they’re just that. Stories. Myths.” His eyes widened, his head shaking slightly in disbelief.
“You don’t believe spirits are real?”
“Ssh!” One of Safiyya’s handmaids turned around with a finger over her lips, then went bright red when she realized who it was she’d just shushed.
I lowered my voice all the same. “You don’t believe any of the histories are real?”
“I don’t believe the creatures from our children’s tales are real, no. I hope that
doesn’t offend you, princess. I know the Sultanah of Khiridesh is a great collector of magical trinkets, so it’s little wonder she raised such an…open-minded daughter.”
Heat rose to my face. Even though I knew I was right – I wore a djinni on my finger, after all – I couldn’t prove that to Cao, and his patronizing tone made me feel small, despite the handsome, smiling face that delivered the words. I fell silent.
“I’m truly sorry if I have offended you, princess.” Prince Cao raked a hand through his hair, a worried look creasing his brow. “Please forgive me. I don’t mean to suggest that spirits do not exist at all, or that they never did.”
A smattering of applause signaled that Prince Diyan had finally finished his reading.
“I’m not offended in the slightest, Prince Cao.” The smile on my face wasn’t forced. The prince had obviously led a sheltered life, and I knew he was wrong about spirits.
He put a hand over his heart. “Thank goodness.” He stood, and one of his attendants handed him an odd-looking instrument. It looked like a cross between a horn and a flute. “If you’ll excuse me, I think it’s my turn to lull everyone to sleep with my performance.”
Prince Cao strode toward the stage, and my eyes scanned the audience once more. Prince Diyan still stood at the side of the stage, having trouble winding his scroll back up again.
Prince Rishi it is. Spirits help me.
I made my way through the audience to where Prince Rishi had insisted his own small throne be carried out to the gardens. In the shade of the canopy, he was surrounded by attendants who fanned him with large leaves.
A tuneful trilling came from the stage where Prince Cao had begun his performance, followed by a flurry of soft, dreamlike notes.
“Good afternoon, Prince Rishi.” I ducked under the awning to stand next to his throne. A pleasant breeze from the fanning servants lifted a strand of hair in front of my face. I tucked it back behind my ear.
He acknowledged my presence with a nod, but didn’t offer me a seat. I remained standing beside his throne.
“How are you finding your new bed hangings? I hope you had a better night's sleep last night?”
Palace of Wishes (2020 Reissue) Page 3