Girl, Serpent, Thorn (23 page)

His eyes were so bright, so young, as if he truly were a young prince again. “To be mine. To love me, as I love you.”

“You don't love me,” Soraya said at once.

A melancholy smile passed over his face. “It's easier for you to believe that, but you know it isn't true, and I can't deny it anymore, either. I've loved you since the dakhmeh, when you showed me who you are. You're the part of me that I had forgotten, Soraya. And I'm the part of you that you could be—unrestrained, unburdened.”

Soraya turned from him, gulping in the night air like it was water as her arms wrapped around her waist. It was too difficult to remember all that he had done to her and to the people she loved when she saw him like this.

From behind her, Azad's hands—his soft, smooth hands—rested on her shoulders. “I understand if you can't strike down your brother,” he said, his voice low and sympathetic. “I was the same once. After I killed my father and brothers, I thought I had done wrong. I agonized over it, over every death that brought me to my throne. But before long, all that pain and doubt burned away, and there was only the knowledge of what needed to be done. You'll see in time, but until then…” His hands glided from her shoulders down her arms and found her own hands, his fingers entwining with hers. “Until then, let me be your hands. Let me be your rage. Tell me you'll be mine, and I will do what needs to be done.”

Soraya leaned back against him, letting him bear her weight, as he promised to do. Was there any point in fighting him anymore? Wasn't he right that they were alike, that his past was her future, that a different kind of poison still ran through her veins? Hadn't she proven that herself when she had struck out at Ramin?

I couldn't stand to leave you alone with her. I saw the way your eyes followed her when she and Sorush would leave you behind in your dismal passageways—that jealous, hateful look.

How simple it would be to close her eyes and only open them when all of this was over.
It would be like falling asleep,
she thought as she felt the rise and fall of Azad's chest against her back, his pulse in time with her own. And when she awoke, the world would be new and different. Sorush would be gone, along with the memory of his final harsh words, and Soraya would take his place in a world turned inside out. She would grieve for him, but as Azad had said, all that guilt and grief would soon burn away.

A sigh escaped her, and Azad slid his hands out of hers and swept her hair off the back of her neck, fingers grazing the sensitive skin
at her nape. And yet, Soraya felt nothing at his touch, neither revulsion nor pleasure, only a kind of numb relief. When she didn't stop him or pull away, his hand moved lower, dipping below the collar of her gown to the ridges of her spine. A memory ran through Soraya's whole body—the smell of esfand; the feeling of soft skin under her fingertips; the sound of breathing in the darkness; a whorled pattern on a patch of skin between shoulder blades.
Between her wings
.

The sight of those wings, torn to shreds, hanging down Parvaneh's back.

Soraya flinched away from him with a vehemence that surprised them both. The vividness of her memory paired with the visceral touch of Azad's hands on her spine had made her react, as if hers were the wings he had torn.

She had spun to face him, and they stared at each other now in mutual confusion. Soraya could still feel the pressure of his touch along her spine, but it only made her think of being in the dungeon, of wanting to brush her fingertips against Parvaneh's spine as she carefully stitched her wings back together, repairing what Azad had destroyed.

And he had destroyed so much. She thought of Parvaneh, of the other pariks sleeping in cages, of her mother as a terrified child confronting a monster in the forest, of Laleh's ruined wedding and her brother on his knees … and she wondered how she could have ever trusted Azad to absolve her of anything.

“I didn't mean to startle you,” Azad said, his voice hoarse.

She felt like she was waking from a dream, the world taking solid shape around her. “I'm sorry,” she said, edging away from the window, so she wouldn't be cornered. “I need time to think.”

Her plea sounded like the stall for time that it was, and so he tensed with frustration as he nodded. “I understand,” he said, coming forward to close the gap between them. “But I can't leave your brother alive for much longer, Soraya.” He was backing her toward
the fireplace now, and she looked behind her anxiously as she tried to think of how to further placate him. “I need you to make your choice.”

There was a cold glint in his eye, and Soraya almost thought he was going to transform again. But he remained human, and just as she had once been startled to see the eyes of the boy in the Shahmar, she now saw the eyes of the monster in Azad.

The gulf is not as wide as you think
. It had been a plea when he'd said it before, but she heard it now as a threat.

“It's not
my
choice,” she said, her voice strained, “when I'm still your prisoner.”

With a dismissive shake of his head, he said, “You're not a prisoner, Soraya.”

His tone made her bristle. “I'm not a prisoner? Because I'm not locked up in a cage hanging from a tree? Because you said I can now move freely through Arzur? As long as you have my family, I'm under your control and you know it.”

She swept past him and headed toward his door, ready for this night to end. But as she started to pull open the door, a powerful, scaled hand pushed it shut, trapping her inside. Soraya turned to find the Shahmar standing over her, transformed.

“How did you know where I imprisoned the pariks?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.

 

Soraya went cold as she realized her mistake. She had let herself become angry, and so she'd spoken without thinking over her words first, without considering how much she was supposed to know. “I don't—I didn't—”

“You lied to me when you said you hadn't seen Parvaneh.” He took her chin in his hand and tilted her head up to look at him. “I thought it strange that Parvaneh could have resisted the effects of the esfand after all this time. But of course, if she had a human accomplice, that would explain everything. You've been working against me this entire time.”

She shook her head. “No … no, I…”

He sighed impatiently. “Choose a lie more quickly, Soraya.”

Her mind was working frantically, trying to find a lie that he would believe, but it seemed pointless. He wouldn't believe her, not enough to trust her again—certainly not enough to tell her where he kept the simorgh's feather.

The truth, then. As much of it as she dared.

“I did free her,” Soraya said, her voice wavering from fear. “I needed a way to escape the palace, and when she showed me what you had done to her wings, I thought she would help me. But you caught me first.”

A low growl escaped his throat. “When did you find the other pariks? You freed them, too, didn't you?”

Soraya nodded. “The first night, after you left. Parvaneh took me into the forest and we found them … and I freed them.”

“And where are they now?”

“I don't know,” Soraya said, thankful it was true. “They all left together, but I don't know where they went.”

He released her face and turned away from her with another heavy sigh, his hands running over his head where his hair had once been. “I don't know what to do with you now, Soraya,” he said, a note of regret in his voice.

Soraya was on the verge of tears. She had spoiled everything because of one thoughtless moment. How had Azad managed to fool her for so long without letting his mask slip? She had started to see it at one point—she had realized that he was playing a part, telling her what she wanted to hear. Then he had told her the story of his merchant father, and she had believed him again—because even though the details weren't true, his resentment was. That was the trick of it, then—to sharpen lies with the truth.

She swallowed down her fear and approached him, her hands resting on his back. He went rigid under her touch, but she took a breath and said, “When I freed her, I didn't know what she had done to you. She lied to me, fooled me as she fooled you.” He didn't respond, but he didn't pull away, either, and so she moved around him so that they were facing each other. “I was furious with her when I found out. Whatever alliance we once had is over.”

From his long silence, his searching stare, she knew that he wanted to believe her. Finally, he said, “Why should I trust you?”

Soraya shut her eyes, the flickering flame of a candle appearing
in her mind. “Because I can give her to you,” she said, the words scraping her throat. It was the worst betrayal she could think of, but it was also the only solution to make Azad trust her again.

She opened her eyes to find him watching her with curiosity.

“How?” he said.

“She always comes to my room after you leave for Golvahar. If you hide there, you can catch her when she appears.”

“And you would be content with this?”

Soraya nodded, thankful now that she had become so adept at pushing down her emotions over the years. “I don't care what happens to her.”

Azad abruptly left her side and went to an iron chest against the wall. He retrieved something from it, and when he returned, Soraya saw he had a coil of rope around his arm.
He had captured me, bound my wings so I couldn't transform,
she remembered Parvaneh telling her. Azad went to the door and gestured for her to follow.

“
Now?
” Soraya said, her voice going up an octave.

He looked at her coolly. “Why not? The time for her arrival is near. If you meant what you said, there's no reason to wait.”

Soraya followed him out into the tunnels, walking quickly to keep up with his determined stride. “What are you planning to do with her?” she asked.

“You said you didn't care what happens to her,” Azad answered, and Soraya went quiet.

He won't kill her,
she reminded herself. Parvaneh had told her that he always captured pariks rather than kill them. He probably would keep her unconscious, as he had done with the others. But what if she was wrong and he preferred to kill Parvaneh rather than risk her escaping again? What if he kept her alive but tore her wings, or found other ways to harm her? Soraya's stomach twisted with nausea. Perhaps if she used the candle to signal to Parvaneh that it wasn't safe, then she would understand not to appear, and
Soraya could tell him that they'd fought, and that Parvaneh had abandoned her.

Soraya practiced the conversation in her head, and by the time they reached her room, she was calmer.

Before Azad's banquet, she had left the candelabra at the far end of the table—the signal for Parvaneh not to appear—and it remained there still. As long as Soraya didn't move it, she could pretend that Parvaneh should have come by now. She gestured to a shadowy part of her room beyond the table where Azad could hide, and he nodded, tightening the rope between his hands.

“She may not come,” Soraya said quickly. “We fought the last time we spoke. I told her I was finished with her.”

Azad laughed softly and took Soraya's head in his hands, the rope around his wrist scratching her cheek. “I hope that isn't the case, Soraya. Because if she doesn't appear tonight, I'll think you were lying to me, and I'll have to take measures to ensure that you don't betray me again. What was it you said before? That as long as I have your family, you're under my control? I'll make you a deal, then. If I capture Parvaneh tonight, I will let your family live—other than your brother, of course. But if Parvaneh doesn't appear tonight, or if she escapes me, then I will start to kill them one by one every time you defy me, beginning with your brother's pretty bride.”

He released her face and went to conceal himself in the shadowed alcove, only the yellow of his eyes revealing his position. Soraya fought to control her breathing as she counted one, two, three seconds. She stepped forward and slid the candelabra across the table to rest in front of her.

A few seconds passed, and Soraya felt more and more ill with each one. Her vision was blurring, and her mouth was bitter with the taste of bile. She kept hearing Parvaneh's voice in her mind, asking,
Are you still with me?
She wished she had said yes—full-heartedly, in every way possible, yes. She wished she had one more memory of joy between them before she would have to see the
hurt and betrayal in those eyes that had captivated Soraya from the start.

From the corner of her vision, Soraya saw a flutter of wings, and then Parvaneh appeared beside the table, her back—her wings—to Azad.

Soraya wanted to say something to warn her, or to apologize at least, but any indication of loyalty to Parvaneh would make Azad suspicious.

Parvaneh shook her head slightly. “What's the matter, Soraya? Are you still angry with me?” At the same time, Soraya saw Azad peel away from the shadows, approaching silently with the rope taut between his hands.

“Of course I'm still angry with you,” Soraya said. Despite her effort to muster some conviction, her voice sounded lifeless. “You lied to me.”

As if he had been waiting to hear Soraya say those words first, Azad struck, lunging forward to bind Parvaneh's wings with the rope with expert speed. Parvaneh thrashed and struggled against him, but he used the rope to pull Parvaneh back against him as they tightened around her wings, and one of his hands came to encircle her throat, holding her head still.

Soraya couldn't stop a tear from running down her cheek as she stood rigidly apart from the two of them, her hands clenched at her sides. She couldn't speak—if she opened her mouth, the words
I'm sorry
would spill out.

“Parvaneh,” Azad said, the name a low growl in his throat. “Haven't you missed me? We've been together so long, I can't imagine what you would do without me.”

With his hand still around her throat, Parvaneh choked out a laugh. “Do you think I care what you do to me? I've freed my sisters from you. That's all that matters to me.”

“I'll simply hunt them down again. It's been at least a year since I caught one of you—I was starting to grow bored.”

He pushed her forward, and she landed on the ground in front of Soraya, her wings tightly bound behind her, still connected to the rope in Azad's hand.
I could unbind her,
Soraya thought.
If I do it quickly enough, she can transform—
and then Laleh would die, followed by the others.

Parvaneh pushed herself up and looked at Soraya through a sheet of black hair. “You've made your choice, then,” she said. “I knew you would join him in the end.”

Soraya frowned, her confusion genuine. “What do you mean?”

Parvaneh laughed again but her eyes were hard and cold. “You're too alike. I've known it since the dungeon. Every time I spoke to you, it was like speaking to him, all those years ago. I thought I could stop you from making his mistakes, but I should have known it was pointless.” Her face twisted into a grimace. “You deserve each other.”

“On your feet.” Azad tugged sharply on the rope, and Parvaneh hissed in pain. “You've said enough.”

“Congratulations, Azad,” she said, his name sounding like an insult on her tongue as she rose to her feet. Even though she addressed Azad, her eyes remained on Soraya as she spoke. “You finally found someone as wretched and despicable as you are. I would keep her close if I were you.”

The sting of Parvaneh's words was all the more painful considering how close Soraya had come to succumbing to Azad tonight. Was there truth in what she was saying, or was she only speaking out of anger, lashing out because she had been betrayed? Soraya trembled with the effort of not speaking, knowing that if she challenged Parvaneh now or told her how wrong she was, Azad would know her true loyalties.

“I'm sorry it happened this way,” was all she could trust herself to say in a small, shaky voice.

“I'm sure you are,” Parvaneh replied with a sneer.

Azad held her by the back of her neck and guided her toward
the door. Anger spiked through Soraya as she watched his smug, retreating form. He owned her now. The only way she could ever escape him was to cut her heartstrings and abandon all the people she had betrayed.

Before he led Parvaneh out, Azad turned back to Soraya and said, “You've proven yourself to me tonight, in more ways than one. I'll return tomorrow.” He left her then, taking Parvaneh with him.

Soraya couldn't move. She stood rooted to where she was standing, as if time would stop if she simply never moved again. Her anger had faded now, snuffed out as soon as Azad and Parvaneh were gone. She had always wanted to extinguish the persistent spark of anger that burned deep in her heart, so sure that it would turn her into a monster. She hadn't realized that her anger could only exist because she still had hope. Once hope was gone, there was no point in fighting, and so she had no need for anger anymore.

Soraya finally found a reason to move. She went to the table and blew out the candles, leaving her in darkness.

Without even the candles to help her determine the passage of time, Soraya had no idea how long she had been lying curled up on the ground, hot tears pouring out of her tightly shut eyes. She wished for sleep, for a temporary reprieve from thought and memory, but instead, she spent the time sinking into a kind of waking nightmare, too awake to find peace, but too exhausted in every possible way to pull herself out of it.

After what must have been hours, Soraya managed to open her eyes and found two round orange beams pointed at her.

She sat up in a flurry of groggy confusion, her head aching. It was too dark to see anything except for the orange lights glowing at her from the direction of the table. The orange lights emitted a low, hooting sound, and Soraya understood.

“Parisa?” she whispered.

The lights went out, and a dim, shadowy figure stood at the table. Parisa lit the candles with the flint beside it and, newly illuminated, faced Soraya with an accusing stare. “Where is Parvaneh?”

The name made her wince. “You shouldn't be here,” Soraya said as she rose to her feet. “He might return.”

“It's still day. He never returns until dusk. Where is Parvaneh?”

“Why do you even care what happens to her? You cast her out.”

The eerie orange glow of her eyes dimmed a little, her wings bristling behind her. “She's still our sister,” she said with a note of irritation. “We keep track of her movements. She entered Arzur last night by the pariks' passage, but she never returned.” Parisa took a step toward her. “
Where is Parvaneh?
” she said again, emphasizing each word.

Soraya had to look away from her insistent stare before she could answer. “I don't know,” she said. “He captured her.”
I betrayed her.
“I don't know where he took her—or if she's even alive.”

“She's alive,” Parisa said, and Soraya looked up at her with the first semblance of hope she'd felt since last night. “We would know if she had died, or if another parik had risen.”

Soraya let out a heavy sigh, relief bubbling through her—until Parisa stepped closer to Soraya and held out her hand, palm upward. “Here,” she said. “Take this and use it to find her.”

In the dim light, Parisa's hand appeared empty, and Soraya had to squint before she saw the few dark tendrils of hair across her palm.
Hair?
She was confused until she remembered what her mother had told her—how she had burned a lock of Parisa's hair to speak to her in a dream. Soraya's chest tightened. “No,” she said in a rasp. “I can't. You do it.”