Memories of Ash (The Sunbolt Chronicles Book 2)

by Intisar Khanani

  I nod. I need both hands done, at least a little. It has to look balanced, as if I had planned these markings, chosen them.

  Did I miss something? a familiar voice asks in my mind, breaking me from my thoughts.

  I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. What gives you that idea?

  You’re decorating your markings. In a city shop?

  Outside the city, I tell Val. Remember the lycan that caught me?

  Yes.

  He was the captain of the lycan guard. I hesitate, not sure how to go on.

  You are a very dangerous woman, Val says. I assume you somehow convinced him to break you out.

  Well, yes, but only because I told him the truth. He and his guard decided to leave their post to the Council. They didn’t want to hold me prisoner, so they broke me out before they left.

  Val’s amusement is a warm thing, deep and sweet. But all he says is, You did well not to let me kill him.

  I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. I keep my head bowed, my eyes on my arm, so that the old man doesn’t notice.

  There’s something you should know, Val says. His voice in my mind is calm now, measured.

  Is something wrong?

  My prince knows.

  I close my eyes, blocking out the sight of my markings. About our bond?

  My sudden retreat to my room caused some concern yesterday. At the end, just before I woke, he came to investigate himself. He is … much longer lived than I, and recognized what he saw.

  Will you be okay?

  A flash of frustration. I’ll be fine.

  Wrong question, then. What will he do?

  I cannot say. For now, don’t worry over it. Get as far from the Council as you can.

  Sound advice. Whatever the breather prince decides to do, my first priority is evading the Council. I open my eyes as the inker tilts my hand, stretching another section of my skin tight. Not that the idea of a breather prince who might be curious about me is easy to brush past.

  I’ll leave you now. Call if you need me.

  Thank you, I reply.

  Val’s presence fades quickly, but I turn his words over in my mind until the inker finally sets his tebori down for the last time and sits back.

  “There,” he says with evident satisfaction. “If you come back tomorrow, we’ll continue the color up your arm. It will be beautiful.”

  “It already is,” I say truthfully. The backs of my hands are decorated in amethyst and turquoise and cobalt. I never considered having my skin inked before, but the colors make the harsh reality of the markings easier to bear.

  “Your master will hardly recognize them.”

  I start. He continues to clean his tools, the picture of equanimity. But he knows. He knows these are not regular tattoos. I glance outside, but nothing seems amiss: no mages, no guards closing in. Has he not alerted anyone?

  “Uncle?” I say, my voice uncertain.

  “Your mother is from the east, yes? Or perhaps your father?”

  “Yes.”

  “Give them my greetings when next you meet.”

  I nod, even though he asks an impossible thing, one more promise I can’t keep.

  The small caravanserai at the far edge of town is filled to the brim with travelers. Men and women spill into the open yard. Many sit together in small groups, passing around food and tiny cups of coffee. A group of older children huddle together in a circle, their eyes intent on the game they play. More than a few animals are saddled and ready to be ridden out, their reins tied to hitching posts. No one takes any notice as I clumsily tether my mare to a post. She really is a good horse, with bright, intelligent eyes and a gentle disposition. I pat her shoulder and continue on to the building.

  A servant girl greets me just within the door. Apparently, a tribeswoman traveling alone with a caravan is quite a remarkable fact, for the girl nods at once at my inquiry. “There is a desert woman here. I don’t know her name, but she was out back a little while ago. If you would follow me?”

  I do, barely able to believe my luck. Please let it be her, I pray silently. It will be so much easier if Huda is here. The girl leads me through the building and out the back to a second open yard. There, at the edge, sits a woman in desert robes, her hair covered and her face turned toward the not-so-distant hills.

  The girl calls a greeting. I grin as Huda looks in our direction, then springs to her feet, beaming. “Ya Hikaru! You are here!”

  “Ya Huda,” I reply. “You are here!”

  She laughs, stepping forward to wrap me in a hug.

  I inhale sharply when she presses against my wounded arm, stiffening with pain. She steps back, her eyes on my face. I work to keep my smile easy. Her grin reappears in full force and she kisses me on each cheek in the desert tradition. “I did not think to see you again so soon!”

  “Nor I. But I must return to the desert, and I thought we might travel together.”

  “We will,” she assures me. To the servant girl hovering nearby, she says, “Can you tell me where Abu Jameel is?”

  “Out front,” the girl responds easily in the desert tongue. “He just finished up the accounting for the caravan’s stay.”

  “Then we will meet him there. Thank you.”

  The girls nods and departs. Huda slips her hand into mine, and tugs me along after her. “If we travel together, we can leave the caravan. We are far enough north now that it will not be that much farther to reach the lands of our allies and cross through there.”

  “Did Laith ibn Hamza and his friends return to their lands already?”

  Huda frowns slightly. “They departed once I left with the caravan. They should be entering their territory now, so you needn’t worry for them.”

  Ah. So they did ensure she had a safe way back to her family before they left. I’m glad for the honor of the desert tribes.

  “I will speak with the head caravan driver, and then we can make our own way,” Huda continues as we round the corner of the building.

  “Let me see to my horse,” I say, having no interest in meeting anyone who might remember me. “She’ll need to eat before we depart.”

  “Of course,” Huda says, eyeing my little mare with interest. “I’ll come find you when I am ready. Do you wish to rest a while, or ride out?”

  “Ride,” I say, even though I would like nothing better than to lie down and sleep for three days straight. “Though we may not get too far tonight,” I add.

  “We can set an easy pace to start with.” She squeezes my hand. “And now you must come to my sister’s wedding.”

  I laugh. I had completely forgotten her invitation when I’d last bid her farewell. “I would like that.”

  “Then it is decided,” Huda says, as if I have nothing more pressing to consider. Eyes dancing, she hurries off to make her arrangements.

  I return to my horse. Down the road rise the desert mountains, and beyond them, the Burnt Lands, with its dead city and its undying spells.

  But for today I am alive and free. I have a horse who seems happy enough to put up with my fumblings, and a friend who might have been my sister and might also be my family’s mortal enemy, and a disguise for the markings that have locked up the gift that defines me.

  I smile as I stroke my mare’s satin-smooth neck. What did Osman Bey say? Run far, run fast, keep the wind in your hair.

  Good advice, that. I intend to take it.

  Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed Memories of Ash. If you did, please consider leaving a review. It makes a huge difference to me–both because I love to know what people think of my stories (and it encourages me to keep going!), and because, as an indie author, I rely on my readers to help share the word about my books. Unlike traditionally published authors, I don’t have a marketing department to help me promote my book. That’s where my awesome readers make all the difference–even a short review shared with friends on GoodReads or posted to the online bookstore where you picked up your copy makes my world go
round!

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  Additional Titles Currently Available:

  Thorn

  For Princess Alyrra, choice is a luxury she’s never had … until she’s betrayed.

  Princess Alyrra has never enjoyed the security or power of her rank. Between her family’s cruelty and the court’s contempt, she has spent her life in the shadows. Forced to marry a powerful foreign prince, Alyrra embarks on a journey to meet her betrothed with little hope for a better future

  But powerful men have powerful enemies—and now, so does Alyrra. Betrayed during a magical attacked, her identity is switched with another woman’s, giving Alyrra the first choice she’s ever had: to start a new life for herself or fight for a prince she’s never met. But Alyrra soon finds that Prince Kestrin is not at all what she expected. While walking away will cost Kestrin his life, returning to the court may cost Alyrra her own. As Alyrra is coming to realize, sometimes the hardest choice means learning to trust herself.

  The Bone Knife

  (This short story is permanently free, and available at most e-retailers.)

  Rae knows how to look out for family. Born with a deformed foot, she feigns indifference to the pity and insults that come her way. Wary of all things beautiful, Rae instantly distrusts their latest visitor: an appallingly attractive faerie. Further, his presence imperils the secret her sister guards. But when the local townspeople show up demanding his blood, Rae must find a way to protect both her sister’s secret and their guest. Even if that means risking herself.

  In The Works:

  Title To Be Announced

  Book 3: The Sunbolt Chronicles

  TBA

  A Darkness at the Door

  Book 1: The Theft of Sunlight Trilogy

  TBA

  It seems that with every book I write, my community grows a little larger and a great deal more wonderful. I am so very grateful for the veritable city of readers, writers, bloggers, friends, and family members who have helped me through the three years it has taken to bring this book to completion.

  When I set out to write The Sunbolt Chronicles, I aimed for a novella serial, thinking that would allow me to publish with some regularity despite being a mom with two lovely young children. But beta readers of a novella-sized draft of Memories of Ash made it clear to me that I had better stop pretending I was the one in charge. I listened, and the story grew into itself, a full-sized novel.

  For this, I have my Round 1 beta readers to thank: Mus’ifah Amran, Shy Eager, Ahmed Khanani, Hailey McCann, Tia Michaud, Theresa Shreffler, Bekah Trollinger, Elisabeth Wheatley, Janelle White and Kat Wise. Together, they recommended a series of “minor” changes that resulted in sweeping revisions, and pushed Memories of Ash to be the story it has become.

  Round 2 beta readers have my sincere apologies for How Outrageously Long this beta reading round took, and receive a heartfelt (if virtual) medal of honor for sticking with me for as long as it took. I am most indebted to Anne Hillman and Elisabeth Wheatley for making it through this round. Early chapter feedback from Annie Bahringer, Claire Hermann, Leah Rothstein, and Janelle White was also deeply appreciated.

  Amazingly, miserably, Memories of Ash went on to a Round 3. I am so very grateful to Shy Eager and my dear husband, Anas Malik, for doing double duty as beta readers and working through this final round. Thoughtful feedback on pacing, tone, and the development of themes helped me to bring Memories of Ash past the point of cringe-worthy and into the realm of quite-possibly-okay.

  I am deeply indebted to my copyeditor, Laurel Garver, for her fine grasp of language, her bald honesty (especially regarding characters dithering about when they should have been hurrying!), and her eye for detail. In addition, the wordsmithing magic Ann Forstie worked on the first seven chapters of Memories of Ash helped take the beginning sequence from good to great. I cannot thank either of you enough!

  I am grateful to Melissa Sasina—and Elisabeth Wheatley whenever she could join us—for almost nightly online writing sessions for the last year (or more?), which made sitting down to write a fun, social time rather than a nightly misery. Without our regular check-ins, mutual cheerleading, and plot-hole problem solving over so many months, this book would probably still be in the works.

  I want to give a shout out to all the bloggers and readers who have read and reviewed Sunbolt, and stepped forward to read advance review copies of Memories of Ash. Thank you for believing in my writing, and waiting for it, and for giving your time and energy to make this latest book a success. Whether you joined my launch team or wrote a review, or just tweeted your love of books, your support means the world to me.

  I am as always thankful for the love of my family, for their understanding and kindness as I make my way through the wilds of writing. You have always been there for me, and only laughed sometimes when you happened to overhear me working through dialogue out loud, with voices. I appreciate that.

  And, ultimately, I am grateful to God for all that He has given me, in my life and in my writing.

  Intisar Khanani grew up a nomad and world traveler. Born in Wisconsin, she has lived in five different states as well as in Jeddah on the coast of the Red Sea. She first remembers seeing snow on a wintry street in Zurich, Switzerland, and vaguely recollects having breakfast with the orangutans at the Singapore Zoo when she was five.

  Intisar currently resides in Cincinnati, Ohio, with her husband and two young daughters. Until recently, she wrote grants and developed projects to address community health and infant mortality with the Cincinnati Health Department—which was as close as she could get to saving the world. Now she focuses her time on her two passions: raising her family and writing fantasy.

  Intisar’s latest projects include a companion trilogy to her debut novel Thorn, featuring a new heroine introduced in her free short story The Bone Knife … and of course, she’s hard at work on the remaining books of The Sunbolt Chronicles.