by Elm Vince
Elm Vince & Helena Rookwood
The Sorcerer in the Smoke
Desert Nights Book 9
Copyright © 2019 by Elm Vince & Helena Rookwood
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Elm Vince & Helena Rookwood assert the moral right to be identified as the authors of this work.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
A note from the authors
The Desert Nights series
About the authors
1
I froze, staring in horror between Kassim and Lalana. Mehri’s scream echoed through the chamber.
This can’t be happening.
“Kassim.” My voice sounded thick. “I– We can explain.” I took a step toward him. The late morning light barely reached Mehri, her embroidery clutched at her heaving chest as she wavered in the doorway. Her gaze flicked between my sister and me, confusion clouding her features.
Kassim’s amber eyes blazed as they turned to Lalana. “Who is this woman, Zadie?” His voice was strained, as if he were trying to stop himself from shouting.
I gulped, my throat dry as sun-baked earth, and clenched my sweating palms into fists. How do I lie my way out of this one? Excuses filled my mind, but each one shriveled before it reached my tongue.
My biggest secret was exposed. Lying was what had gotten me into this situation.
A horrible dropping sensation settled in my stomach, like leaning too far over a balcony and feeling like you might fall.
I reached a hand back for Lalana without breaking eye contact with Kassim. “This is my sister.” Her cool, slender fingers linked through my own clammy hand, squeezing tightly. “The Lost Princess of Khiridesh, the Ghost of Yadina, and…your first betrothed.” My heart thudded in my chest as I glanced back at her. Her wide, honey eyes shone with tears, but she tilted her chin up. I continued, my voice stronger. “This is Lalana.”
Kassim’s jaw set. For several long moments, he said nothing. Mehri teetered by the door, her usually glowing, ebony skin ashen. The young handmaid looked as if she’d seen a ghost. Which I supposed she had.
“She’s alive,” Kassim said finally.
“I’m alive,” Lalana answered, her gentle voice conciliatory.
I tensed at the exchange between them – their first meeting knowing each other’s true identities. But Kassim’s gaze never left mine.
“She’s alive,” I repeated. A painful sensation pricked at my eyes, and I bit the inside of my cheek to stop the tears from spilling over.
Kassim found out the day before our wedding.
I had been so close to becoming sultanah…
My heart twisted in my chest. The real reason I fought back tears had nothing to do with not becoming sultanah, and everything to do with the hurt flickering just behind the fire in Kassim’s eyes.
“Kassim. I’m so sorry. I–”
“You.” Kassim beckoned Mehri from the door. She took several faltering steps toward us, eyes wide and glassy. “What’s your name?”
“M-Mehri.” The handmaid’s voice was barely a whisper.
“Mehri,” Kassim repeated, “I need to speak to Zadie alone for a moment. Neither you nor Lalana...” A muscle feathered in his jaw as he spoke my sister’s name. He glanced at the wall, composing himself, then tried again, his voice a fraction lower. “Neither you nor Lalana are to leave this room, and no one is to come in. Is that understood?”
Mehri nodded, tears streaming from her eyes and dripping from her chin.
Kassim strode toward the door, the handmaid scurrying out of his way. I broke away from Lalana to follow him, and my sister moved to comfort her former handmaid.
Out in the corridor, I hurried after the sultan. His boots rang out with each brisk step against the marble, and I had to run to catch up.
“Kassim.”
He wouldn’t turn to look at me as I fell in step with him. Spirits, where was he taking me? To the dungeons? To Namir for interrogation? Hairs rose along the back of my neck as I wrapped my arms around myself.
“Where are we going?” I asked, hating the waver in my voice.
The sultan didn’t reply. We turned another corner, then another. After a few minutes, we arrived at vast, golden doors flanked by palace guards. They stepped aside at Kassim’s approach, pressing the doors inward.
“Leave us,” Kassim barked as he strode through.
“With the greatest respect, Your Majesty,” one of the guards ventured, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “Captain Elian instructed us to guard your quarters at all times.”
Kassim whirled on the guard. “I am your sultan, not Elian. And I will be alone with my betrothed.”
The guard looked at Kassim, his gaze flicking to me as I trailed after him. I blinked away the tears in my eyes and tried to give him a reassuring smile.
The guards bowed and hurried away, pulling the doors closed behind them.
The churning in my stomach rivaled any sickness I’d felt on The Scarlet Dancer, yet my eyes roved around the chamber with interest. I had never been inside Kassim’s quarters before.
In the large reception room, the sultan paced between plush divans fringed with beading and the massive floor-to-ceiling windows framed by wispy, green curtains.
I waited, my hands clasped before me, as he strode back and forth. My gaze wandered to a wall adorned with paintings. In the center was a somehow familiar portrait of a raven-haired beauty wearing a necklace with a pendant shaped like the sun.
She must be Kassim’s mother.
I tore my gaze away from her face as Kassim finally stopped pacing, his eyes fierce as a tiger’s. “Explain.”
How can I? I rubbed a hand up and down my arm, forcing myself to meet the sultan’s eyes. Whatever I tell him, he won’t understand. But I had to try...
“Lalana fell in love just before your betrothal. His name was Ambar, and he was a merchant.” I paused, but Kassim said nothing. “I helped her escape the palace to be with him. Everyone had to think she was dead.” I turned my gaze to the floor, moving around the room. “Last week, when I went to see Aliyah, Lalana was just…there. And Ambar–” The words caught in my throat. Should I tell Kassim Lalana was a widow? That she was free to marry him now? “Ambar is dead.”
I picked at my thumbnail as I paced, my eyes scanning the paintings he’d displayed on the marble mantle. Most were still-life paintings by Safiyya, but the last one was a terrible floral painting I recognized immediately.
“Is that my painting? From my first week here?”
“Don’t change the subject,” Kassim snapped.
My stomach twisted with guilt but I stopped before the painting, eyeing the messy splodges of paint, and allowed myself a small smile. It was definitely mine. I couldn’t believe Kassim had kept it, let alone displayed it proudly in his chambers. I took a deep breath and continued.
“After Ambar died, Lalan
a had nowhere else to go. So she found me again.”
The sultan said nothing as he crossed his arms, eyeing the painting on the wall.
“I thought if she won the storytelling competition, she could live in the palace in disguise. No one in Astaran has ever met Lalana–”
“Except your handmaid,” Kassim cut in.
“Well, yes. I’d forgotten about Mehri,” I admitted. “But there’s no one else here who would recognize her. No one would ever guess the palace storyteller is really a Khirideshi princess. And she looks different now her hair is shorter.” I could hear the desperation in my voice. “Mehri won’t say anything. She would never put Lalana in danger by giving her away.”
“You think Mehri won’t gossip with the other handmaids?”
“I know she won’t.”
“You really think it’s possible for Lalana to live here in secret?”
I paused. “Yes.”
“In the palace of her ex-betrothed?”
“Y-yes.” My voice wavered.
“Zadie, no matter how differently she cuts her hair or what she wears, your sister is a striking beauty.” Kassim was quickly losing his temper, his voice rising to a shout. “Then there’s the small fact she looks nearly identical to my current betrothed. How could you be so naïve? How could you think no one would notice? That I wouldn’t notice?”
I winced, my heart sinking.
Kassim ran both hands through his hair. “This couldn’t have come at a worse time.” His voice leveled again. “We have half the royal families from the twelve kingdoms arriving in the palace tomorrow for the wedding. Plenty of them have met your sister at royal functions. I’m fairly certain your family has.”
My family. Spirits, I’d been so swept up in everything else, I’d forgotten my parents were making the journey to Astaran for my wedding day.
My blood ran cold as Kassim strode past me, throwing open the door to his chambers once more.
I hurried after him. “Maybe we could–”
He threw up a hand to silence me without even turning. “No, Zadie. No more of your hare-brained schemes. That’s what got us into this mess in the first place. We’re doing things my way now.”
2
“No one else can know about this,” Kassim said as he swept back into Lalana’s chambers.
The second I was inside, he clicked the door closed and stood in front of it like a prison guard. The room felt uncomfortably warm.
Lalana sat on the edge of the bed, one long arm draped around Mehri’s shoulders. The handmaid looked up with red-rimmed eyes, sniffling quietly.
Lalana’s eyes widened a fraction as she looked at me. I shook my head slightly.
“Here’s what’s going to happen.” Kassim locked the door behind him, and Mehri let out a small squeal. “Everyone up.” He motioned for Lalana and Mehri to stand. “Follow me.”
“Where are we going, Kassim?” Lalana asked, eyeing the locked door warily.
Kassim strode to the other side of the room, dappled light dancing across his face as he moved in front of the latticed, marble screen concealing Lalana’s bedroom. He paused beside a lute hanging from the wall and slid his hand into an urn sitting on top of a plinth. Something in the distance clanked to life. The wall before us slid backwards, revealing a narrow passageway.
Mehri gasped, but I didn’t bat an eyelid. After my time chasing the spirit disguised as Prince Cao through the palace, I knew the whole place was threaded with secret passageways.
“Stay close,” Kassim instructed, lighting one of the decorative lanterns. He held it aloft. The intricate filigree threw patterns above his head and along the marble walls as he slipped into the shadowy tunnel.
Away from the warmth of Lalana’s chambers, the cool, musty air sent shivers running up my arms.
Kassim walked in front, holding the lantern above his head. “Steps!” he barked back, making Mehri jump.
I glanced up. The last passageway I followed had led up to the vizier’s tower. The thought wasn’t comforting.
After several minutes of walking down narrow passageways, interspersed with long stints climbing narrow, winding steps, the faint light of day appeared above us.
As we emerged into the bright light, we were greeted with a muffled grunt, followed by a slap, then the sound of wood creaking. It smelled of parchment, ink, and a heady mix of herbs I couldn’t place. Downy feathers drifted through the air, and birds shrieked from their perch by the windows, joining the grunts we’d heard from the stairwell.
What is this place? And just what are we interrupting?
A woman’s moan floated through the air. Lalana and I exchanged wide-eyed glances as the sultan held out an arm, motioning for us to stop.
I ducked my head underneath his arm as Namir was thrown backwards onto a desk, scattering the neat scrolls and ink pots stacked there. The spymaster rolled to one side, tearing down one of the maps hanging from the wall as someone flew at him, pinning down his arms.
I instinctively reached for the ring on my hand before I remembered it was gone.
But Namir didn’t need my help.
He wrapped his legs around his assailant, throwing them to one side as he rolled from the table in a smooth motion, before grabbing them in a tight hold as he stood and whirled around to face us.
“What’s she doing here?” Kassim growled.
My heart lifted a little at the sight of Aliyah struggling to escape Namir’s clutches. As the spymaster looked up at his sultan, Aliyah elbowed him in the ribs and whirled away, out of his reach.
“Cheap shot.” Namir clutched at his side, wincing. “You know they’re still sore from Hidu.”
Aliyah shrugged and perched delicately on the edge of a table, one knee hugged to her chest, the other leg swinging free. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, but she showed no other signs that her tussle with Namir had tired her out.
“What’s going on here?” Kassim demanded.
Namir opened his mouth to reply, but Aliyah interrupted. “Well, hello, your magnificence,” she replied cheerfully, twirling a dagger in greeting. “It’s nothing to worry about. Just a harmless scuffle between peers. If I’d wanted your precious spymaster dead, he’d be cold and I’d be long gone.”
Kassim glared between the two of them. “Leave us, thief. Our royal business doesn’t concern you.”
“Oh, royal business. Why didn’t you say so? While I’m not here for payment for my past services, you should know I’ve been keeping a tally, and you’ve racked up quite the bill.” She picked her fingernails with the tip of her dagger.
“Aliyah,” Namir warned.
The thief ignored his tone. “Actually, before things got…physical, I was making a report to your so-called spymaster.” She whacked the back of her hand against Namir’s arm. He glared at her. “Nobody’s seen hide nor hair of your crazy vizier in Kisrabah since she tried to kill Z.” She nodded toward me. “If she’s hiding, it’s not in the city.” She cocked her head. “You sure know how to pick your advisors, sultan.”
Lalana moved to my side as Aliyah spoke. The thief queen blinked as she noticed her for the first time, then spotted Mehri loitering behind us. Her brows slowly rose as she looked from the visibly agitated sultan back to me, the questions dancing in her almond eyes answering themselves.
“Oh, hey, Lalana.” Aliyah dropped my sister’s name casually.
“Hey, Ali,” Lalana replied, her voice soft.
“Wait. She knows?” Kassim roared, taking a step toward Namir and gripping him by his shirt laces. “Am I to be the last person in Astaran to know Lalana is still alive?”
“W-what?” Namir’s eyes bulged at the news. “I-I had no idea, Kassim.”
“Well, clearly.” Kassim dropped his grip on his spymaster in disgust. “Because if you’d had any idea, I wouldn’t have had to find out for myself that my betrothed’s sister has been alive this whole time, married to some merchant.”
“Ambar. His name was Ambar,” Lalana said fir
mly.
“And somehow,” Kassim continued to rant, “not only has Zadie been lying to me this whole time, but apparently, half of Kisrabah’s seedy underbelly seems to know before my own spymaster.”
The messenger birds squawked at the raised voices, and the spymaster gaped, staring between me and Lalana like we were one person with two heads.
Aliyah watched the exchange eagerly, a lazy smile spreading across her face. “Perhaps, sultan, if you’re after a more reliable service, you should recruit a new spymaster. While I consider myself anti-establishment, I could be convinced…for a price. I’ve known about Lalana for days. And I’ve been carrying letters between her husband and Z for months.”
Kassim shot me a look, and I motioned for Aliyah to stop talking.
“Kassim, I’m sorry,” said Namir, thankfully distracting him. “All of my sources believed the eldest Khirideshi princess had–”
“I’m standing right here, you know. And I have a name.” Lalana’s voice was mild, but her expression was enough to stop Namir in his tracks and bring color to his cheeks.
“Lalana.” Kassim turned to face her. “Who else knows who you are?”
Lalana tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Only the people in this room.”
“Is that true?” Kassim directed his question at Aliyah.
“I’ve only told my second, Lisha. I’m very discreet, you see.” She looked pointedly at Namir.
Kassim ignored Aliyah, turning back to Lalana with a gaze so intense I half wanted to pull my sister away from him. “What do you like doing, Lalana?” he asked. “Riding, reading, and studying like your sister?”
I frowned. What did Lalana’s interests matter now?
Lalana gave a pretty, lilting laugh, at ease despite the sudden questioning. “Oh spirits, no. I prefer painting, dancing, and singing.”
“So, the sort of things most noblewomen enjoy?” Kassim confirmed, scrubbing a hand over his chin.
Lalana nodded. “I suppose so.”
“If you had the chance, would you want to live as a princess again?”
Lalana’s eyes widened. I swallowed hard. It was a cruel question. It was impossible for Lalana to become a princess again. She’d given up that life.
