I looked around quickly. I needed to be close enough to hear what they said, but I couldn’t afford for them to see me.
My eyes settled on the curtains draped around the edge of the tent. The material was heavy enough to hide a narrow body. Probably…
Before I had time to question how sensible this plan was, I hurried closer and slipped behind the curtains.
For a moment, all I heard was my heart pounding in my ears. If Kassim caught me, he’d be furious. And this would be a lot more difficult to explain than the training grounds.
My worries dissolved as the sound of low voices reached me.
I recognized Namir’s smooth tone. “I’m afraid the merchant I’ve been working with turned out to be unreliable, Kassim. I inspected the talisman he sourced today, and it was a fake.”
Is this the same talisman Kassim asked the vizier about yesterday? Was that why he’d wanted to speak to my mother about talismans when he collected me from Satra?
“I knew it was too good to be true.” The sultan sounded annoyed. “We’ve been searching for so long, it seemed unlikely the talisman would suddenly turn up with a local Kisrabah trader.”
“I know. I’m sorry, Kassim. When he described it… ” Namir trailed off.
There was a long pause.
“I don’t think we need to worry just yet.” The vizier’s voice was consoling. “Perhaps I might take over the search for the Night Diamond talisman, seeing as Namir’s efforts so far have been… fruitless.”
I chewed my lip in the silence that followed, wishing I could see their faces. So they were looking for something called the Night Diamond talisman. And Namir hadn’t mentioned the thieves again after all. Maybe I should just slip back to Safiyya now. Can I leave unnoticed?
I peered out from behind the curtain – and jerked back again, my heart pounding.
Namir… I was certain his gaze had met mine.
I stayed perfectly still, not daring to move. Spirits… What’s wrong with me? Caught spying by the vizier earlier today, and now by Namir. I took a deep breath. Perhaps he’d doubt he really had seen the Princess of Khiridesh’s head peering out from behind a curtain. He might think it had been some trick of the light…
No one came to find me, and the conversation continued.
“Thank you for the offer, Hepzibah, but this is more my area of expertise,” Namir said mildly. “I already have a vast network of contacts.”
“And yet nothing has turned up from them so far,” the vizier said firmly. “It might be that you’ve finally exhausted your list of contacts, Namir, however vast they may be.” Her voice softened. “Kassim, let Namir focus on our other problems. Let him focus on finding out how the thieves are breaking into the palace. Or he could speak to my contact who swears that Phoenitian soldiers have been spotted south of the mountains for the first time in years.”
“Perhaps that’s true,” Kassim said, sounding thoughtful. “None of your leads have worked out so far, Namir. I think Hepzibah should take over sourcing the talisman.”
“As you wish.” Namir’s tone gave nothing away.
“I’d like you to concern yourself with the thieves. Especially now our treasury is bursting at the seams with Khirideshi treasure from the dowry.”
My heart started racing again. Thieves. Talismans. Phoenitian soldiers. Astaran clearly had more problems than I’d known about when our betrothal had been arranged.
“Thank you, Kassim.” The vizier’s robes whispered against the marble as she moved. “I already have a plan of where to source new information on the talisman’s whereabouts.”
I pressed myself farther back behind the curtain as she swept past, holding my breath. It sounded like Kassim needed all the help he could get when it came to finding this Night Diamond talisman.
I suppressed a grin, excitement bubbling in my chest. This was how I could prove myself. I could help him find it, even if I couldn’t be obvious about it. If I helped find this rare treasure, then he’d have to acknowledge that I was much more than the traditional sultanah he expected. He’d know I could be useful here.
Besides, when it came to sourcing magical objects, I knew exactly who to ask...
Chapter Seven
I sat in bed, my knees drawn up to my chest, the breakfast plate of fruit, cheese, and pastries barely nibbled at beside me. My bed seemed huge, the cool, white sheets rippling away as I wrapped them more tightly around me. I hadn’t slept very well, the same thought racing through my mind.
I needed to write to Ambar. But it wasn’t quite as straightforward as that.
My sister’s husband was one of the finest traders of magical objects around. He’d been my mother’s preferred supplier… until she’d found him in Lalana’s chambers, that was. But if I sent a letter to Ambar in Yadina asking about the Night Diamond talisman, and someone tracked it back to me... I’d be putting Lalana at risk.
No one could know where they were. Especially not Kassim. I couldn’t imagine what the sultan would do if he found out Lalana was still alive, and that my family had fabricated her death.
He certainly wouldn’t be honoring the alliance. At best, I’d be sent home. At worst, I’d be kept a prisoner, Lalana would be punished, and our countries would become enemies. Ambar would certainly be killed.
I’d fretted and worried all night, weighing up the possible outcomes, before eventually sending a protesting Jevera to fetch me ink and parchment first thing this morning. I would write something coded, and vague, so that it wouldn’t attract too much suspicion, even if I still had to figure out how to send it. Perhaps I could persuade Kassim to let me explore more of Kisrabah today and find a bird tower in the city.
I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes.
It would be worth it if Ambar had information about the talisman. The risk of exposing my sister was low…yet an anxious feeling gnawed away in the pit of my stomach.
“Princess?” Mehri said timidly, twisting her hands around as she hovered anxiously at the end of my bed. “Wouldn’t you like to get up now?”
I glanced over at the door. What’s taking Jevera so long?
I supposed I couldn’t stay in bed all day.
I nodded distractedly at Mehri, stood, and moved to sit at my dresser, silent as she began combing my hair.
“You looked beautiful at the feast yesterday, princess,” she said, her hand following each stroke of the brush. “Just as beautiful as your sister, you know.”
I flinched at the mention of Lalana, but Mehri didn’t seem to notice.
“The servants are all saying the sultan couldn’t take his eyes off you,” Mehri offered when I didn’t reply.
“Thank you, Mehri,” I said replied, unconvinced.
She brightened, encouraged by my response. “Would you like to wear your cream dress today, princess? With a gold veil? It’s supposed to be a hot day, and it will keep you cool. And no doubt the sultan will appreciate seeing you in the Astarian colors.”
“If I even see him at all today,” I grumbled.
My head snapped up as the door to my chambers opened and Jevera slipped back into the room.
“What took you so long?”
Jevera shook her head. “I’m sorry, princess. They wouldn’t give me the ink and parchment.”
“Did you tell them I needed to send a letter?” I asked through gritted teeth.
“I was informed you need to speak to the sultan if you wish to send a letter.”
I took a deep breath, willing my irritation not to show on my face. When I had left for Kisrabah, I had imagined writing laws and decrees. What sort of sultanah couldn’t even write her own letters?
I stood up abruptly, making Mehri jump back. “Dress me in the cream and gold,” I snapped. “It seems I must speak with the sultan today after all.”
The guards insisted they announce me, but I refused to wait and see whether Kassim would accept an audience with me.
No sooner had I heard my name ring out in the room th
an I burst inside, not caring whom or what I interrupted.
I slowed when I entered the throne room. I hadn’t seen much inside the palace yet, but the throne room was just as striking as the palace gardens…and about a thousand and one times more intimidating. Double the size of my parents’ throne room, it was crafted from the same white marble as the palace exterior, with cream-colored gauze curtains billowing in the windows and long, gold drapes hanging from ceiling to floor.
Two dark wooden tables ran along either side of the room, and all the people seated along them turned to look in my direction as I hovered in the doorway. They must be Kassim’s council. Not that I knew for certain. The only faces I recognized were Namir’s and Elian’s.
Well, it wasn’t my fault this was the first time most of them had seen me without being properly introduced.
I strode into the room, and although my slippers made me feel very unstable on the polished tile floor, I held my head high, even as I was forced to slow to an undignified shuffle.
Kassim sat on a tall, golden throne at the far end of the room. His head jerked up as I stalked into the room without waiting to be escorted by the guards, his slanted, amber eyes narrowing when I didn’t stop to curtsey in greeting.
“Princess Zadie.” His voice echoed through the room as he lounged back in his throne, staring down his nose at me. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
Reaching the foot of the throne, I swept into my best approximation of a curtsey. I glanced sideways. The vizier stood at his side.
Maybe she’ll help my cause.
“I apologize for interrupting,” I said, returning my gaze to the sultan, “but I sent my handmaid to fetch ink and parchment this morning, and she returned to tell me it’s not permitted.” I forced myself to keep from scowling. “I’m certain she’s mistaken, but thought it best to seek you out.”
Kassim drummed his fingers on the arm of his throne. “What do you want with ink and parchment?”
I broadened my smile until my cheeks ached. If it meant I could write my letter, I’d be the polite princess he expected. “I thought I might write a letter this morning.”
“That’s why you came storming in here like an elephant on a rampage?”
I kept the smile fixed on my face, not trusting myself to reply.
Kassim shrugged. “You can dictate letters to one of my scribes.”
My smile faltered. I couldn’t dictate this letter to a scribe. “Why can’t I write it myself?”
Mutterings filtered through the room, like smoke from a lamp.
Kassim stopped drumming his fingers. “Safiyya’s quite happy to dictate to the scribes because she can’t write letters herself.”
I jutted my chin up and smiled sweetly. “Well, I can write them myself.”
The mutterings grew louder, and Kassim straightened in his throne. His full lips thinned as he stared at me. “Princess Scheherazade,” he said stiffly, “you said you sought me out to confirm what best to do. Well, I’m telling you. If you need to send a letter, you will use my scribes. It’s tradition. All letters are to be dictated to the scribes, who pass along palace correspondence to Hepzibah before sending. For security, of course.”
“Security,” I repeated faintly. So my words, as well as my movements, were to be monitored?
There was a long pause as I struggled to figure out what to say. What kind of sultanah had her correspondence monitored by her Royal Vizier?
“Kassim,” the vizier said gently, flashing me a smile before turning to the sultan. “The princess is new here. Perhaps it’s usual for princesses to write letters in Khiridesh. Why not let her do as she wishes?”
Kassim still looked sullen, but he at least seemed to be listening to the vizier.
I tried not to be too annoyed that he hadn’t bothered to show me the same courtesy.
“What harm can it do?” she urged. “You can make the princess happy with something as simple as parchment and ink. She can pass her letter to me when she’s ready.”
My heart plummeted.
Kassim dropped his chin into his hand, one elbow resting on the arm of his throne. “Fine,” he said. “Now, I believe that answers your question, princess. Tell my scribes to provide the tools you need, write out whatever pretty words you wish, and hand Hepzibah your letter when it’s finished.”
I ground my teeth together. I couldn’t let the vizier, or anyone else in the palace, see my letter to Ambar without putting Lalana at risk.
The vizier gave me a conspiratorial smile. “You’re very generous, Kassim. I’m sure the princess will be grateful for such kindness.”
At least the vizier was trying to help me. I forced myself into a brisk curtsey, not daring to look back up at the sultan. Why did he always have to be so irritating? “As the sultan wishes, of course.”
Without waiting for a reply, I turned on my heel and strode swiftly out of the throne room, not caring if I slipped and fell. It was evident that pleading with Kassim would get me nowhere. So much for the perfect princess approach.
I’d only been here three days and already I was fed up with his obsession with tradition. I was trying to help him, and although he didn’t know it, he was standing in his own way.
I stole down the corridor on slippered feet, my gaze scanning the walls as a new plan formulated. Not only was I perfectly capable of writing my own letter, I also had a wealth of experience sneaking out of palaces unattended. And if that’s what I had to do to get my letter to Ambar, then that’s what I would do.
Tonight.
Chapter Eight
I slipped into yet another dark corridor, the same as all the others I’d walked through so far. I silently cursed the shutters keeping out any moonlight that might have illuminated my path. I recognized nothing.
It had been easy to leave my room, placing cushions beneath the bedsheets to give the appearance I was asleep, just in case Jevera or Mehri woke. But I doubted they would. They slept heavy as stones after I’d insisted we all have a valerian tea to calm ourselves before bed – which I hadn’t drunk, of course.
But now, lost in the winding palace corridors, my plan began to unravel.
Safiyya’s proud explanation of the palace’s three hundred rooms echoed uncomfortably loudly in my ears, and my chest tightened. If only I’d let her take me on the tour of the palace interior like she had wanted to, instead of forcing her to take me to the training grounds. At least then I might have some bearings.
I stopped for a moment, stretching out my clenched fingers and giving my damp palms a moment to dry. The anxious sweat gathering on the back of my neck made me shiver as it cooled in the night air. I wrapped my Khirideshi shawl closer around the thin tunic that did little to keep out the chill.
In a moment of defiance, I had elected to wear some of the clothes I had brought with me – a comfy tunic and pants I would have worn on any usual day at home.
They made me feel like myself again. But they had done little to keep me from getting lost.
This spirits-cursed palace all looked so similar, what with its endless corridors of striking, white marble and pretty carved pillars. I couldn’t figure out whether I’d been this way already. It would have been hard enough in the daytime, but at night, when the shadows smothered everything with long, violet streaks, it was impossible. Just about every door I tried so far had been locked.
If I was found roaming the corridors at dawn, that would certainly raise questions. I took another deep breath and pulled my shawl tighter. Concentrate, Zadie.
Behind me, something scuffed on the tiles.
I leapt back, melting into the shadow of a tall plinth with a statue of a djinni on top. My palms grew damper as I recognized the man at the end of the corridor.
Namir.
What was he doing here? Was he following me?
I saw the curve of a weapon at his waist, his curly hair framing his face. Dressed all in black, he slipped quietly along the edge of the corridor, moving swiftly and fluidly, stealin
g quick, darting looks ahead of him as he went.
Was he after me? How did he know I’d even left my room?
My skin chilled as it occurred to me that perhaps Namir really had seen me hiding behind the curtains, listening in on his conversation with the sultan. My worry about getting a letter to Ambar had made me completely forget the incident with Kassim’s guard. No wonder he was keeping a close eye on me. What kind of bride spied on her betrothed from behind the curtains?
Probably the same kind that stalks the palace at night and hides behind plinths.
Spirits, he was going to see me if I didn’t do something.
I pressed myself farther behind the plinth, praying that if ever the djinni statue above me had been real, if it had even the barest scrap of its magic left, it might conceal me from Namir’s gaze.
I didn’t dare breathe as I heard him move past me. There was a faint sweep of feet moving softly over stone, then the sound swiftly retreated.
I didn’t move an inch, didn’t risk looking around the plinth to see whether he had disappeared.
I stayed there for several long minutes, my muscles cramping. Then, ever so slowly, I peered out and looked along the corridor.
Nothing.
No, wait… Voices.
I hovered by the plinth. Should I make a break for it, before they got any closer?
But something about the tone of the voices made me pause. They were furtive, whispered, anxious not to be overheard – exactly the kind of conversation I was tempted to listen in on.
A group appeared at the end of the corridor. Their dark clothes hugging their skin, they moved carefully, alert and in a formation that suggested they were very used to working together. I hurriedly crouched back behind the plinth, my muscles protesting as I forced them back into their cramped position.
Throne of Sand (Desert Nights Book 1) Page 6
