“Hepzibah.” The sultan’s rich voice sounded again, even sharper than before. “You will leave the two of us. Now.”
“Your Imperial Maj–”
“I said leave us, Hepzibah. I do not expect to be questioned, especially by you.”
At the sound of clipped footsteps, I opened my eyes…and startled.
The Sultan of Phoenitia had crouched down in front of me, extending a hand.
Inhaling sharply, I scrambled backward, wrapping his cloak tightly around my shoulders and shooting to my feet.
After a beat, the sultan slowly stood and offered me a thin smile. “I brought you something to eat, since you’ve declined all invitations to dine with me today.” He gestured to a small silver tray on the table by the door. “I hadn’t realized Hepzibah would take your refusals quite so…personally.”
I just stared at him. His skin was even paler than the vizier’s, making the tattoo of his mountain insignia over his left cheekbone stand out. Kohl-lined gray eyes watched me curiously. His short, neat hair was black, peppered with gray at the temples. The emerald on his finger was the only color on him.
“Won’t you eat something?” He gestured again to the silver platter.
My mouth set. This politeness was all a show. He was still the man who had brought terror into my kingdom, who threatened all the twelve kingdoms now that he possessed the lamps. Who kept me here against my will.
Catching the look on my face, the sultan offered me another thin smile and dropped his hand to his side. “Perhaps I’ll just leave the tray here.”
I hugged the cloak more tightly around me.
“But tomorrow, Princess Scheherazade,” he said in a rush, his accent making his stumbling words difficult to hear, “you will eat with me.”
I narrowed my eyes. “No.”
“I expect you to join me.”
“Expect away,” I spat out.
The sultan eyed me coolly. “I won’t allow Hepzibah to abuse you, but I expect your gratitude for it.”
“Gratitude?!” Outrage shocked me out of my stilted replies. “And what, exactly, should I be most grateful for? For the vizier you sent as a spy into Kisrabah, who tried to kill me and my sister? For threatening my kingdom with war? For ruining my wedding? Or for keeping me as your prisoner?”
The sultan’s lips thinned. “For your comfortable room. For the food I had prepared in your honor, which you neglected to join me for. You are, in your own words, my prisoner here. Things could be very different for you.”
My nostrils flared. “For all your generosity, that sounds very much like a threat.”
There was a pause as the sultan studied the floor, before he fixed his gaze on me. “I hope I have made it clear that the moment you come to your senses, Princess Scheherazade, my guards will escort you to me.”
The sultan spun on his heel, the door slamming behind him on his way out. A slight click told me that I was, once again, locked in.
My hands fumbled over the knots in my makeshift rope, the texture turning softer as I climbed down and moved from a strip of bedsheet to a strip of the heavy curtains. My palms were raw from ripping them into strips, the curtains having resisted being torn apart, but I couldn’t stand being in that room a moment longer, waiting for Sultan Iram to return and tell me more about his generosity.
I’d used every scrap of material available to me in the room to make a rough rope down from my window, not forgetting the dress the sultan had so generously given me to wear and the cloak he had draped over my shoulders. I’d found a plain top and pants in one of the closets to wear instead.
I didn’t need a djinni’s help. Just my own resourcefulness.
My feet felt for the next knot, and met stone.
A thrill ran through me. The first balcony. That just left six others to go.
Dropping off the end of my crude rope, I gave a sharp, outward tug on the end of it, and the rest of the material drifted down to me, dropping into a pile like a coiled-up serpent.
Silently, I thanked Bahar and his crew for all that I had learned on our voyage home from Hidu. Learning about sailing knots had seemed a valuable way of passing the time with the memory of being unable to untie the knot fastening the anchor to my ankle fresh in my mind, and they were going to get me out of this spiritsforsaken palace now.
Rolling my shoulders, I squinted back up the marble wall, the moonlight shining against the dark stone. I’d climbed a long way already, and I was tired. But there was so much farther to go…
I turned to examine the balcony, pressing my back flat against the marble wall, shivering as the cold soaked into me. But if anyone were out here and miraculously hadn’t noticed me climbing down from the window, I wanted to avoid being seen.
I’d descended into what looked a bit like a garden. Stone paving slabs glowed brightly in the moonlight, and at intervals, rose bushes sat in huge planters. They gave off a scent not too dissimilar to Tarak’s sickly smoke, and I wrinkled my nose.
In between the roses, huge marble statues gazed out from the palace, and I quickly put aside my unease at the floral scent. The statues would provide me with cover, as well as something to tie my rope to. Gathering up the knotted material, I shivered. In spite of having warmed up on my climb down, I was already cold again.
Glancing around once more to make sure no one else was around, I slipped into the shadow of the first statue, pressing against the cool marble. I shuddered as the scent of roses grew stronger, and darted to the next statue, then the next, growing surer of myself as no one appeared.
Reaching the balcony’s edge, I crouched down beside it, waiting for my pounding heart to slow.
Maybe this plan was stupid. Even if I escaped the palace, I had nowhere to go. But I can’t stay here. I would sooner take my chances in the Ossur Mountains than in this cold, perfumed palace. I would find a way.
I peered down at the balconies beneath me. Six levels to go. And then a foreign city to escape. But I’d worry about that when I got there.
I darted back to the nearest statue and wound my rope around it, fastening the end into a complicated knot before racing back to the balcony’s edge. I glanced over the side to make sure I was alone, then cast the rest of the rope over the side. Taking it in my hands, I hopped up onto the wall. This was the worst bit.
Preparing myself for the inevitable drop in my stomach, I allowed myself to tip backward over the side, the rope wound tightly around my wrists, my knuckles white as I clutched it. Feet planted firmly on the wall, my head spun as the sensation of falling overwhelmed me, as it always did in that first moment when tilting back over the edge.
Then the rope suddenly slackened, and I dropped farther. My eyes widened.
Before I had time to do anything else, even scream, the rope went loose in my hands, and I fell.
There’s no wish to save me this time.
All thoughts disappeared, replaced by the rush of wind, the sense of weightlessness, my stomach flying up into my throat.
I plummeted, the balcony below racing up to meet me.
As I let out a cry, the wind itself seemed to sigh, a sad, soft exhale. The air shuddered, and vibrations ran through me. A familiar scent reached my nostrils. The roses? No – frankincense. I collided with a soft, feathered back.
My breath knocked from me, I couldn’t speak as my fingers scrambled for a hold, my arms wrapping around the warm body beneath me, clinging on for dear life. I squeezed my eyes shut, my heart rattling in my chest as we wheeled around and soared back up, up, up into the night sky above.
I breathed in deeply and once again caught the heady scent of frankincense. Tarak.
Opening my eyes, I adjusted myself on the djinni’s back. He was in the form of a roc, his sleek, glossy feathers shining like silver beneath my thighs. We soared higher and higher, away from the palace and up toward the sky studded with diamond stars. Clear, cold, fresh air filled my lungs.
“Tarak.” I clutched at the feathers around his neck. “Whatever the sultan’s pr
omised you, I can do more. If you fly us south to Astaran, I’ll–”
He banked and began veering back around the way we’d come.
“Tarak,” I said again, anger biting into my voice this time. “Take me home.”
But the djinni didn’t reply. The moonlight illuminated the palace below, growing clearer and brighter as we grew closer. It loomed over the city I’d hoped to escape into. From up here, I realized it was built into the side of a tall mountain. My room had been on the opposite side, where the balconies tumbled down to the city below. I shuddered to think how much darker and colder the other side of the palace must be.
We were headed straight for it.
My stomach twisted. Tarak was taking me right back to my prison.
As if to confirm my fears, the wind rose again. “Princess Scheherazade.” The air almost sounded like it sighed. “I’m disappointed you thought me foolish enough to let you escape this way.”
It was just the same as when Sultan Iram’s voice had carried through the palace in Kisrabah. How could he throw his voice like that? Was he a sorcerer, too? Or was the vizier helping him?
“I told you, princess,” he said, his tone both weary and irritated. “If you want to leave your chambers, all you have to do is ask, and my guards will escort you straight to me. You are not permitted to leave any other way. As you can see, if you try to do so, this spirit will simply bring you back again.”
A blind rage overtook me, and my hands gripped the djinni’s feathers tightly, attempting to rip them from his back. How could Tarak work with Iram? Despair settled in as the palace loomed larger. Strength deserted my arms, and my strikes on the djinni’s back grew feeble.
There was one other way. I went still, closing my eyes. I had hoped to see Kassim again, but I wouldn’t be used as a pawn against him.
Without giving myself even a minute to feel afraid, I wrenched myself sideways, off the djinni’s back.
Wind rushed past me again, the same roiling sensation filling my stomach as I plummeted toward the ground. But this time, I felt no fear. I would leave the palace any way I could. The sultan had no power over me.
“Tarak!” came a frightened scream on the wind.
I let out a scream, too, as the djinni’s claws grasped me, his rough talons grazing my skin as they tightened around my middle. A wave of dizziness ran over me as I swung back and forth beneath him, my stomach turning. This was worse than when I had been falling.
“Take her back to her chambers.” The wind-voice sounded shaken as it died away.
I howled at the indignity of it, rage blistering through me as I dangled beneath the roc.
Stopping just short of the window, Tarak hurled me back into my room. I lay still, my eyes adjusting to the dark interior. Fresh curtains already hung in the window, new sheets on my bed. A fire even crackled in the fireplace, taking the chill from the air.
I slowly got to my feet.
Tarak… What had they offered him to make him cooperate like that? Or had he been aligned with the Phoenites even before he was trapped in the ring?
I took a few shaky steps toward the bed.
I stopped short, an idea blooming through the fog of pain and exhaustion. Tarak might not be on my side anymore, but there were plenty of other spirits hidden within this palace. The djinn trapped in the lamps we had taken from Hidu, and which Iram had taken from us.
The ones even Tarak feared.
I clenched my fists. With another djinni, I could wish my way out of here.
I just had to find the lamps.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I followed the guards along the snaking corridors, the black marble gleaming in the pale candlelight. They all looked so similar it might have been disorientating. But I’d experienced this before — walking through a sprawling, unfamiliar palace far from home. The palace at Kisrabah, with its straight, white marble corridors, had been difficult when I’d first arrived in Astaran. But the layout here in Phoenitia was similar enough that I was able to get a rough handle on my surroundings.
I tugged at my sleeves, the unfamiliar material caressing my skin. I couldn’t understand how anyone could enjoy the touch of the soft material, which felt slightly furred. The handmaid had called it velvet. It set my teeth on edge.
But I needed to assure Sultan Iram I had reconsidered his offer. That I was willing to cooperate with him.
The same handmaids who had brought me the emerald dress yesterday had arrived with a black one today – less elaborate, no doubt in case I shredded this one, too – but when I had agreed and put it on, they placed a choker of emeralds around my throat. It scratched uncomfortably at my skin. At least the long sleeves of the dress would cover the bruises and cuts Tarak and the vizier had inflicted on me yesterday.
I tugged at the sleeves again. It was so strange to feel the tightness against my skin in place of the loose, light, billowing material I would have been dressed in at home. It made me feel guilty. I couldn’t bear the thought of what Kassim would think if he saw me like this.
It’s just a ruse.
I needed Sultan Iram to believe I was willing to cooperate. It was the only way I might find out the location of the lamps he’d stolen from Astaran. And that was the only way I could see to get out of here. After my attempted escape yesterday, it was going to be hard enough to persuade him I had a sudden change of heart. Hopefully the Phoenitian dress would help.
We turned a corner, walking along another winding black corridor, the guards before me and the two handmaids trailing behind me, then halted in front of a huge, silver door. More strange creatures danced around the frame. I examined them, trying to distract myself from my nerves. I had never seen anything so figurative in Astaran or Khiridesh. There, the palaces were decorated with clever, detailed engravings resembling flowers, stars, or abstract patterns. You might occasionally see an ancient statue of a spirit, but nothing this lifelike.
I found myself staring at a carving of a huge cat with long, pointed ears, its face contorted into a snarl. A sharp jab in my back brought me back to the present.
I twisted around to see the quiet handmaid looking at the angry one in horror. I had no doubt who had jabbed me. Ignoring my seething look, she gestured to the door in front of me, which was already open. I hurried through without saying anything.
My steps slowed as we entered.
More carved animals lined the long distance between me and twin thrones on a dais at the far end. I looked at them as we crept up to the thrones. No ordinary animals had been carved in this room. Here, mythological beasts graced the walls – rocs, winged serpents, and strange creatures I didn’t recognize. I squinted at one that looked like a huge, toothed fish.
Could that be a dendan, which attacked our ship on the way to Hidu?
Our footsteps rang out as we crossed the room in silence. Not one of the servants coughed or spoke. It was nothing like the Astarian court, where we would have been surrounded by chatter, Namir and Elian joking with Kassim.
The vizier was seated on a smaller throne to the left of the sultan, where a sultanah would traditionally sit. Her black eyes narrowed, her lips thin. I hesitated before the thrones, my knees wobbling as I battled with myself over whether to bow. The sultan drummed his fingers on the arm of his throne in a way that reminded me painfully of Kassim. In the end, I dipped into a slight bob, leaving it at that.
The sultan cleared his throat, the sound painfully loud in the silent space. “Princess Scheherazade.”
I paused again, hating myself for what I was about to say. “Please, call me Zadie.”
A flicker of surprise crossed the sultan’s face, and the vizier sucked in a breath through her teeth.
“They might not mind such impropriety in the Astarian palace,” she snapped, her face tight, “but such informality is not acceptable here in–”
“Hepzibah,” the sultan interrupted. He tilted his head to one side, his gray eyes taking in my black dress and lingering on the emeralds at my throa
t. “The princess is our guest here. We will endeavor to make her feel comfortable.” He shot the vizier a conciliatory smile, which she didn’t return. “We are to look beyond our own borders now, after all.”
I remained silent, not tearing my gaze from the sultan. He looks different from when I saw him in Astaran… His face was drawn, heavy bags under his eyes. He looked tired.
I cleared my throat. “If you please, sultan…” I stopped again.
He waited. When I failed to speak, he interceded. “I’m glad to see you out of your room, prin– Zadie.”
I forced myself to smile. “Thank you, sultan.”
“Call me Iram,” he said quickly.
I inclined my head. “I’ve had time to consider your offer. I don’t… I don’t see that refusing to leave my room is helping either of us.” I bit down on my lip. “It’s not worth risking my life to escape. When I fell from the roc yesterday, well… It made me see things differently.”
The vizier let out another furious hiss. “Please, sultan,” she said, twisting in her chair to fix him with a wild look. “Forgive my impertinence, but you don’t know this girl like I do. She might not be a sorceress, but she has gifts of her own. She has a…a way with people so they find her insolence charming. If you allow her to continue, her words will work their magic.”
I blinked. I didn’t think anyone had ever referred to me as charming before.
“Hepzibah.” The sultan looked distinctly irritated. “I’m not sure what kind of relationship you had with the Sultan of Astaran–” the vizier jerked back at those words, as though stung, pain dancing fleetingly over her expression “– but here, might I remind you, I will not tolerate being questioned.”
The vizier stared at him, then twisted back around on her throne, staring moodily ahead of her, refusing to look at me.
“Thank you, Iram,” I said in a soft voice. I lifted my chin. “The thing is, if I’m going to be imprisoned here, I’d rather not be stuck in my chambers the entire time.”
The sultan’s eyes flicked back to me. “You can’t leave the palace, but I don’t want you to think of it as a prison. Perhaps, princess, you would allow me to show you more of your new home? I think you will be pleasantly surprised by what you learn about Phoenitia.”
Princess of Smoke (2020 Reissue) Page 18
