Girl, Serpent, Thorn (25 page)

Soraya's chest tightened painfully, and she let out a broken sob as she fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around the simorgh's neck. The simorgh nestled her head against Soraya's as Soraya wept into her feathers. She felt undeserving of this affection, unworthy
to have been the one to find the simorgh, the root of her family, after so many years. And yet, wasn't that the story of her family's beginnings? The simorgh had found an unwanted child and decided that he belonged to her now, and that she would love and raise him as her own, even if others found him unworthy. If only Soraya had seen herself in that child instead of the Shahmar, then maybe she would have found her place in her family line long ago. She would have known that what defined her lineage was not blood or duty or obligation, but a single act of compassion, of protection, granted freely.

Soraya pulled away. Her eyes were still wet with tears, but she felt lighter now than she ever had. The patch of sky overhead began to darken, and she knew she couldn't stay much longer, even though the idea of leaving the simorgh here was unthinkable.
I could take a feather,
she thought, with a glance at the simorgh's brilliant plumage. But even to ask for such a gift felt wrong to her—the feather was something the simorgh should give of her own volition, not something to be taken. Maybe that was why every time Soraya tried to take the feather for herself, the result had been disastrous.

“I'll come back,” she told the simorgh. “I need something to help me with the chains.”

The simorgh bowed her head in understanding, and with an aching heart, Soraya went back through the passage. She left the false brick wall as she had found it, slightly open, then brushed off the soot from her gown before stepping out of the fireplace. She looked hesitantly from the chest of tools to the swiftly darkening sky out the window. Did she have time to free her now?

She took a step toward the chest, but then a shadow filled the room, and she turned her head to find Azad standing in the window.

“Soraya,” he said with surprise as he stepped off the ledge into the room. “What are you doing here?” He tried to keep his voice light, but she could hear the undercurrent of suspicion.

“I'm here to see you,” she said at once, grasping for something she knew he would be happy to hear. “Now that I can move freely through Arzur, I saw no reason why I should wait for you in my room like a prisoner.”

He laughed softly. “Fair enough. Have you given thought to my offer from last night?”

“To kill my brother or let you do it for me?”

“I could decide for you, if you'd prefer.”

“No,” Soraya said at once. “I've already made my decision.”

She had spoken without thinking, simply wanting to stop him from losing patience with her, but now her mind was working like an overactive hummingbird, trying to figure out what came next.

Azad studied her with narrowed eyes, and Soraya returned his stare with all the resolve she could muster. She weighed the options in her mind, and she knew there was only one choice she could make now.

“And what have you decided?” he asked her with some skepticism.

“I've been thinking of what you told me before,” she said, “when I asked you why you never chose to live as a human. You said it was because of power, but I think that's only part of the truth.”

He walked toward her, stopping when he was close enough that she had to turn her head up to look him in the eye. “Is that so?” he said, his mouth twisting in amusement. “Then what's the real reason?”

“Because if you chose to stop fighting for the throne and live a quiet life as a human, then everything you did to your family would have been for nothing.”

His smile faded. His eyes darkened. “Soraya—”

“And if I keep holding myself back, then the same will be true for me.”

His mouth hung open with whatever unspoken reprimand he had been about to speak. “What are you saying?”

“I'll kill Sorush myself.” She turned her eyes up, looking at him through her eyelashes. “And then I'll be yours.”

Is this cruel?
she wondered. Was she being as cruel to him as he had been when he'd pledged himself to her outside the golestan, knowing that he was about to betray her?
If I
am
being cruel,
she decided,
then it's because he taught me how.

Azad was studying her again, searching for the trap that he was clever enough to suspect but didn't want to find. “Are you toying with me?” he said, his voice a low growl.

“I'm done playing games,” she said. “I've felt more myself here among the divs than I ever have at Golvahar. I want what you promised me last night. I want to be free.”

And even though she had no intention of killing Sorush, the words were true enough that she knew Azad would believe them.

His hand came to rest on her shoulder, and he brushed his thumb along the curve of her throat. “Is that the only reason?” he said, his voice softening into something almost wistful.

She knew what he wanted to hear, and she took a breath, preparing the lie on her tongue. “I miss you,” she said. “I miss working with you instead of against you. I miss what we once had. I want to know if I can find it again.”

His hand tightened on her shoulder. “You will,” he said. “I promise you.”

The conviction in his voice made her wonder if it were true—if, given time, she would one day look at him and see only that young man again, the one who had noticed her on the roof and come to her rescue on Nog Roz. But no—that young man had never existed, and even if he had, she didn't want him anymore. She didn't want someone who always told her what she wanted to hear. There was something better than that, something truer and more alive, and it was currently waiting for her, asleep in the dungeon of Golvahar.

But first, she needed to free the simorgh. “That was all I came here to tell you,” Soraya said, turning away from him and moving
toward the door. “I wanted you to know my decision before you returned to Golvahar.”

“Before
we
return to Golvahar,” Azad corrected.

Soraya turned, the hummingbird in her mind taking flight once more. “What do you mean?”

“There's no reason to delay. We can leave for Golvahar at dawn—or sooner, if you'd prefer.”

She had thought he would wait at least another day before insisting on her return—on Sorush's execution—and then she could return for the simorgh.
I can still delay him,
she thought. She just needed to make him leave Arzur again.

“You seem surprised,” he said. “Did you think I wouldn't hold you to your promise?”

“I simply thought you would need more time to make arrangements. I don't want to return the way I came, carried over your shoulder like a prisoner.”

He bowed his head and said, “Then you shall return on a golden litter down the city streets, my queen.”

“And I want something else,” she said, thinking of how to delay him, how to make him return to Golvahar before her.

“You know I would give you anything,” he said.

Except my family. Except Parvaneh. Except my freedom.
“When we return to the palace, I want my old rooms back.”

He hesitated. “Soraya, I want to trust you.…”

“But you'll need to board up the door to the passageways first. I understand. Do what you must. But I want something familiar. Something to remind me of my old life.” More gently, she added, “I'm sure you can understand that.”

He nodded. “Very well. I'll prepare your room tonight, and you'll begin your journey at dawn.”

He insisted on accompanying her back to her room in the mountain, and Soraya's heart pounded with a mixture of fear and excitement. It had worked—she would wait until her candle was halfway
burned before setting out for his room again, and this time, she would bring tools with her to free the simorgh.

But instead of turning toward her room, Azad gripped her arm and led her farther down the passage. “What are you doing?” Soraya said.

“When I announced that you could move freely through the mountain, I hadn't yet known about your outings with the pariks. They're very loyal—if they learn what you did to Parvaneh, they may come for you and take their revenge. I'd prefer to keep you secured more safely tonight.”

It was such a blatant lie that Soraya nearly told him about Parisa's visit just to catch him in it. But she had made that mistake once before, and she kept her anger—and her tongue—in check as he led her to his treasury, the only room with a lock on the door.

“You can't keep me here,” she said, attempting to pull out of his grip as they neared the door. “There's no bed.”

“You've seen for yourself that there are plenty of rugs that you can pile up.”

“What about food?”

“You'll be fine until morning. Sleep, and the time will pass quickly.”

He unlocked the door and dragged Soraya across the threshold.

“But what if I—”

He silenced her with a finger against her lips. “Think of this as a test of your loyalty to me. Because if this is another ploy, Soraya—if I discover that you're deceiving me in any way—then there will be no more bargains or exchanges. I will slaughter your family in front of you as easily as I slaughtered mine.”

 

Soraya's mother had told her once that it was almost a day's journey from the city where she had spent her childhood to Golvahar. And so Soraya knew she had roughly from sunrise to sunset to figure out what she should do once she arrived at the palace.

Sometime before dawn, Azad had retrieved her from the treasury and brought her to the entryway of the mountain. As promised, a golden litter awaited her there, along with two smaller divs on horseback. Once Soraya was in the litter, and the litter securely attached to the horses, Azad took off, promising to greet Soraya at journey's end.

And what would she do when she reached her destination? The simorgh was chained up inside the mountain. The pariks were hiding somewhere in the forest. Her family and Parvaneh were imprisoned. What had Soraya managed to accomplish during her time here? She cursed herself now for not simply plucking one of
the simorgh's feathers when she had the chance, but some part of her knew that nothing good would have come from such a theft. The feather had to be granted freely or not at all.

As they traveled through the scattered woodland of the mountain steppe, and the sun began to rise, Soraya saw city walls in the distance to the south. That was where her mother had been born, where she had returned one day after meeting a div in these same woods. She imagined what it would have been like to grow up there, in the shadow of Arzur, constantly under threat of a div raid. Her mother had lived so close to danger all her life—it was no wonder, then, that she had seen Soraya's curse as a reasonable price to pay for her safety.

When they moved closer, Soraya noticed the large gaps in the mud-brick walls, where something had battered it down. She wondered if it was from a recent attack, or if the people there had simply given up repairing it over the years, knowing that the divs were so near.

They stopped when the sun was at its highest overhead. There was still enough grass for the horses to graze, and so the div in front unlatched the litter and led the horses out to where the grass was thicker. Soraya wondered if they planned to feed her, too.

She tentatively stepped out of the litter, unsure if she would be allowed to do so, but wanting to stretch her legs.

“Don't worry,” said a thin, reedy voice from behind the litter. “We have food for you as well.”

The div came toward her and held a basket out to her. Soraya hadn't been able to look closely at the divs accompanying her in the morning, when it had still been dark, and so she was struck motionless. The div standing before her resembled a human in appearance—more accurately, she resembled a human corpse, wrapped in a gauzy white garment like a shroud. Her hair was long, gray, and stringy, her skin sallow and leathery, worn tight over protruding bones. A familiar smell accompanied her—familiar,
because it reminded Soraya of the dakhmeh. A name formed in her mind, but she didn't dare speak it.

With a nervous bob of her head, Soraya took the basket and retreated back to the litter.

“You don't have to stay in there, either,” the div said. “We both know that if you run, I'll catch you.”

Soraya didn't want to admit that she found the div's appearance unsettling—more so than any of the beastlike divs she had seen in Arzur—and so she remained standing while the div regarded her with an amused expression.

“You've been to the dakhmeh,” the div said. She leaned forward and sniffed the air. “I can smell it on you.”

Soraya's stomach clenched, and finally she gathered the courage to say, “You're Nasu, aren't you?”

The div only smiled, pleased to be known and named.

And yet now that she had this confirmation, Soraya felt no fear—only confusion. “Why do you follow him?” she asked.

Nasu's eyes widened in surprise at the abrupt question. “The Shahmar?”

“You're one of the most feared and powerful divs among humans,” Soraya said. “How did the Shahmar come to inspire such loyalty among divs that you would all follow his commands and treat him like a shah?”

Nasu reflected a moment, and then she said, “If you've been to the dakhmeh, then you understand the nature of scavengers—vultures, jackals, and the like. Why hunt for prey when someone else will do it for you, and you can enjoy the spoils? The Shahmar has his uses. He thinks that without him, divs would have no purpose, and he's wrong about that. But he understands human instinct, and he knows how to exploit human weaknesses.” She gave Soraya a pointed look, and Soraya's face warmed with shame. “We simply go through the doors that he breaks down for us,” Nasu continued. “And if he wants us to bow our heads as he passes in
return, it's a small enough price to pay. It's become a bit of a joke among us, the way he believes in such human formalities.”

Soraya listened in fascination, understanding now the secret that the divs had been sharing with her ever since the night of the banquet, the one they reflected back to her in their nods and smiles. The Shahmar thought he ruled the divs—that they were instruments of his vision, his purpose—but in truth, the divs were using him.

“Now
you,
on the other hand,” Nasu said, drawing Soraya's attention back to her. “The divs are all very interested in you.”

“Because I betrayed my people?” Soraya said, her throat tight.

Nasu shook her head. “I was there the night of the banquet, when you stepped out into the crowd and let them tear off pieces of you. Even those who weren't there have heard of it by now. It was … rapturous. You gave yourself to us that night.” She took a step closer to Soraya and raised her hand to hover over the base of Soraya's throat. “There's something restless growing within you. We're all very curious to see what happens when it breaks free.”

Soraya looked down at the hand that was not quite touching her, fighting a primal instinct to flinch away from it. But it was surrender that the divs demanded. Soraya had felt that pull not only at the banquet, but in the pariks' forest, too. That was the other secret that Azad didn't understand. There was no ruling the divs—there was either surrender or destruction. She wondered which would befall him in the end, and then her head snapped up, her eyes meeting Nasu's as the thought struck her: If the divs were more aligned to her than to him now, perhaps she could use that to her advantage. “Would the divs be willing to help me? To fight him?” she asked urgently. But she regretted the words as soon as she'd spoken them. What if Nasu told Azad she was plotting against him? His final threat still rang loud in her ears.

But Nasu didn't seem shocked or aghast at her questions. She only shook her head with a confused frown as her hand fell away.
“We aren't finished with him yet. Why would we want to fight him? Why would
you
want to fight him? He wants you to rule with him, doesn't he? Isn't that why we're delivering you to the palace?”

“He'll kill my family if I refuse him.”

“Then don't refuse. You'll be in a far better position to protect anyone you want to protect if you're his consort. The choice seems simple to me. Either you're his prisoner while he does as he pleases, or you're by his side, with the power to influence him. Perhaps he could be useful to you as well.”

Soraya didn't respond. The advice chilled her, because she heard the truth in it and knew that she might have no better choice. The other div returned with the horses then, and Soraya returned to her litter with the still-untouched basket of bread and cold meats that Nasu had given her.

They didn't stop again until they reached Golvahar.

Soraya had shut the curtains of her litter to block out the sun, but when she could no longer feel the sun's heat, she pulled back one of the curtains and saw the walls of the city approaching, the shape of Golvahar rising up at its center.

She hadn't known how she would feel upon returning to Golvahar, but when she saw the city, she heard screams in her head, and a knot of guilt formed in her stomach.
I'm going to put it right again,
she promised the terrified voices in her mind. But she still had no idea how she would manage to accomplish that, and the more time that slipped away, the louder Nasu's voice grew in her head.

She kept the curtain open now, wanting to see if the city had changed since Azad had taken control. She had hoped the damage wasn't too severe, but as they wound their way through the city streets, the knot of guilt only tightened.

The last time she had gone through these streets, she had been
struck with a sense of possibility. The world had seemed so wide, so expansive, that she thought surely there must be room for her in it. But now … now there was rubble crowding the streets, remains of the damage done on the wedding day. Some of the homes were charred and half burned, with chunks of wall or roof missing. It reminded Soraya of the way melted wax figures might look right before they collapsed into shapelessness. The air was full of dust and ash, and Soraya had to cover her nose and mouth to keep from coughing.

And then there were the people. Azad had promised Sorush that if he bowed to him, the townspeople would return to their ordinary lives. He hadn't lied, exactly. The townspeople were free to go where they pleased. Shops were still open, and vendors still set up their stalls in the bazaar. But Soraya noticed that they all walked quickly through the streets with their heads down, not wanting to attract the attention of the divs who patrolled the streets as the new city guard. Their faces were ashen, and on the few occasions when people did look up to see who was being carried through the streets like royalty, there was a haunted look in their eyes that soon hardened into anger when they saw her. Soraya didn't think they recognized her by sight—few people had ever seen the mysterious princess—but they saw a human treated like a queen by the divs, and that was enough for them. They knew a traitor when they saw one.

Soraya wanted to let the curtain fall, but she couldn't make herself do it. She had to see—both because she deserved their scorn and because she needed to remember why she couldn't let Azad win.

As they reached the center of the city, Golvahar loomed ahead, and Soraya's eyes went to the roof, wishing she were still standing there alone. Would it always have happened this way? Even if Azad had never come, if she had never spoken to Parvaneh, would she still have reached the threshold of her patience one day and
lashed out at her family?
Yes,
said a voice from deep within. She couldn't have lived that way forever, not without understanding why or how. It was inevitable that she would have begun to rattle the bars of her cage, and that all her buried frustration would have found a way out. That girl on the roof was gone, and though Soraya wished over and over again that she had chosen differently, she knew that the girl she had been would never have been able to love her family or her people the way Soraya did now. She had been too full of poison, too afraid to let herself feel anything.

The gates of Golvahar opened for her, and she was relieved to find the gardens unchanged. Still, the sounds of screaming in her head grew louder here, and she could see invisible bodies on the lawn, where soldiers had fallen.

They'll never forgive you,
said a voice in her mind. But she hadn't returned here for forgiveness. She had broken something, and now she had to fix it as best as she could.

The divs set the litter down at the palace steps where Azad stood tall, waiting for her. He came forward to help her up, and remembering what he had said to her last night, she tried not to let her contempt show on her face.

He asked about her journey, to which she replied politely in turn and told him she was tired and wanted to rest. He led her to her room—a path that felt unfamiliar to her, because she was so accustomed to using the passageways.

The room was as she'd last left it. She had told Azad she was tired so he wouldn't expect her to make conversation, but at the sight of her bed, she realized how true it was, how inexpressibly tired she felt. She wanted to sink into this room like it was a bath and let it strip away all memories of the mountain.

She waited for Azad to leave, but he was staring at her expectantly, until finally he said, “Don't you want to know when the execution will be?”

“Of course,” she said. “I'm just so exhausted, I can barely think.”

His gaze softened. “Yes, I understand. But everything will be easier from now on—you'll see. Tomorrow, before sunset, we'll take care of your brother, and this ordeal will be over.”

She managed a smile, which seemed to satisfy him, and then he left. She heard the click of a key in the lock after the door was shut.

When she was finally alone, she went first to the hidden door in the wall on the slightest chance that he had forgotten to seal it shut. But he hadn't forgotten, of course, nor had he forgotten to bar the doors leading out to the golestan. A beam blocked the handles from the outside, so that she could only push the doors open a crack.

At first sight, she had thought nothing in the room had been changed since she was last here, but as soon as she began to scan the room for anything useful, she saw that wasn't true. Her hand mirror was gone, as were her bottles and vials of fragrances and a crystal vase. Anything breakable—anything that could create shards or sharp edges—had been removed, so that she couldn't use them as weapons.

My gardening tools.
Soraya hurried to the bed and knelt down, reaching underneath to see if Azad had been thorough enough to find her shears and other tools wrapped in leather under the bed. The tools were gone—but Soraya's hand met something else instead. Something soft and made of cloth, like a rag …

Or a blanket.

From beneath the bed, she pulled out the blanket of stars that had set her on her path of destruction. She laid it flat in front of her, remembering now that she had taken it with her from her mother's room and buried it under the bed. Her fingers brushed over the stiffened patches of blood on the fabric. And then her hand froze as she realized that Azad had mistakenly left her the most powerful weapon of all.