If there was one person who was a bigger threat to Ayet than I was, it was Shira. And she was still standing. I needed to know how. Shira bartered in information. She had something that kept Ayet off her back. And I needed it.
I burst back towards the core of the harem, breathing hard. Something was different. I felt it immediately. I spotted Leyla, dark hair gathered up off her neck, staring across the garden, worrying her thumbnail. ‘Leyla.’ I dashed across to her. ‘Listen to me. Ayet just found out – it’s complicated. If she speaks to your father or to Kadir, we’re not going to be able to get you out of the palace at Auranzeb like we planned. So you need to be prepared to leave tonight if I tell you to. And I need to find Shira,’ I summarised quickly. ‘Do you know where she is?’
Leyla looked startled as I spilled the information out at her. But she grasped on to the last question. ‘The Sultima? Her baby’s coming. Someone has sent word to Kadir.’
That was it, I realised. That was the restless wildness filling the harem. Damn. Bad timing. ‘Leyla, where is she?’
Shira’s screams got louder as I burst down the hallway. There were a handful more harem women, sprawled in prayer outside the door. A servant woman rushed out, carrying a blood-soaked cloth. Shira’s screams followed her out. Then the door slammed shut again, muffling them.
And then, suddenly, silence dropped like a stone in Shira’s rooms.
I held my breath. Trying to count out heartbeats as the silence stretched. Waiting. Waiting for it to be broken by something. A shout. An accusation. A midwife stepping out to let us know that Shira hadn’t survived.
It was a baby’s wail that ended it.
I let a sigh of relief escape. It wasn’t even all the way out of my lungs before there was another scream.
Not Shira’s this time.
I moved like a shot for the door, tearing it open. Shira was collapsed in a heap of sweaty hair and bloodied cloth, clutching a small swaddled bundle to her chest, her knees pulled up around the baby, like she could protect it. The three women around her were staring like they’d been turned to stone. A fourth was slumped against the wall, hands clasped over her mouth, shaking.
I took another step forward, until I could clearly see the small bundle Shira was holding. The baby didn’t have Sam’s blue eyes. He had blue hair. Like Maz’s hair. A bright violent blue. Like the hottest part of a flame.
This wasn’t Sam’s son. It was a Djinni’s. Shira had given birth to a Demdji.
Suddenly Leyla and Rahim weren’t the most important people to get out of here. ‘Shira.’ I dropped by her side. ‘Can you walk?’
Shira finally lifted her eyes from the baby. ‘I can run if I’ve got to.’ Whatever polish the city’d given to her accent, it was gone now. She sounded Dustwalk through and through. She pushed herself off the bed slowly, but without so much as shaking. I’d never seen Shira look so impressive before. She’d had an air about her when she stood as the Sultima, in her fine clothes and unearned arrogance. But that was different from the fierceness she wore now, wrapped in a ruined khalat and sheets, holding her son.
‘Let’s go, then.’
The lack of guards in the harem had made Shira scared for her life since she conceived, but it might be what saved her life now. There was no one to stop us as we pushed our way out of her rooms. Mothers, sisters, wives, sons, servants – they all gaped mutely, unsure of what to do. Though I was sure somebody’d had the sense to run for help.
We didn’t have much time. But we had some. My heart was racing.
‘Shira.’ I glanced around a corner. It was a quiet garden thick with flowers, and empty now. We were close to the Weeping Wall. I just prayed that Sam would be there to help us when we got there. ‘I need to know. What did you hold over Ayet all these months? What did you have that kept her away from you?’
Shira stumbled, and I caught her. ‘I’ll tell you if you get me out of here alive,’ she joked. Even now, with death on her heels, Shira was still the bargainer of the harem.
‘Shira, please.’
‘A husband,’ Shira said finally. ‘Another husband, outside the walls of the harem. She put poison in his food after he broke two of her ribs. She bribed her way though her … inspection.’ She tried to put it delicately. ‘A few words of truth in the Sultim’s ear and I could’ve made her disappear. Silk rope around the throat in her sleep and disposed of in the sea. That’s how they go when the Sultim wants to make them disappear quietly.’ I clung to the words. I had to get to Ayet before she got to Kadir. I had to let her know I could ruin her in return if she tried to blow my cover.
We were almost at the Weeping Wall. So close to freedom.
I heard the familiar click of pistol holsters against belts. The sound of boots hammering into the ground.
It was moments before we were surrounded by men in uniform with the Sultan and Sultim with them.
Kadir shoved his way through the ranks. He surged towards Shira. I started to move between the Sultim and my cousin. But two soldiers grabbed him first. Kadir started to fight them. ‘Stand down. She’s my wife. And a liar and a whore.’ He was struggling. ‘It is my right to do with her as I see fit. And I am going to make her bleed for her treason.’
Shira shifted her child against her chest, staring down Kadir, as fearless as I had ever seen her. ‘I did this to stay alive. Because you are a vicious, stupid, impotent man.’
Kadir lunged for her. The Sultan gave a flick of his wrist and Kadir was pulled back by the soldiers again. ‘Take my son somewhere he can regain a level head.’
‘My wife—’ Kadir started, but the Sultan cut across him.
‘This is business for rulers. Not petty husbands.’
I could hear Kadir’s protests as he was dragged across the garden.
‘You know what the penalty is for violating your marriage vows, Shira.’ The Sultan’s voice was calm as they disappeared. I had an image of a moment like this, fifteen years ago: Delila being carried away as the Sultan wrapped his hands around Ahmed’s mother’s throat.
‘Kadir will never father a child. He can’t. And I reckon you know that, too, Your Exalted Highness.’ Shira pulled herself up straight. ‘I did what I had to do for our country.’
‘I believe that some part of you thinks that you did,’ the Sultan said. ‘I always liked you, Shira; this is a shame. You were cleverer than most. I’ve heard that you like to strike bargains. I have one last one for you. Your son’s life, in exchange for the name of the Djinni who fathered him.’
‘Shira—’ I warned. But it was too late.
‘Fereshteh.’ She raised her chin in defiance, oblivious that she had just given the Sultan another Djinni’s true name. ‘He told me he would make me the mother of a ruler. A true prince. A great Sultan. A greater Sultan than Kadir could ever hope to be.’
I had never seen uncertainty on the Sultan’s face before. But I thought I saw it there for just a moment. And I couldn’t blame him. A truth out of a Djinni’s mouth was a powerful thing. If Shira wasn’t lying, she might be holding a future ruler.
‘Fereshteh,’ the Sultan repeated. ‘Good. Take the child, Amani.’ It was an order and I was already fighting my arms’ urge to obey.
‘What will happen to Shira?’ My arms were moving without my meaning them to. The Sultan had never looked so much like Ahmed as he did in that moment. It was the same face Ahmed wore when he told me something he knew I didn’t want to hear but that had to be done anyway. ‘Please,’ I said. Shira was whispering to her son, making him promises she wasn’t going to be able to keep. Clutching at the only moments she was going to have with her child. My mind was racing, trying to find something. An escape, anything. But we were trapped. Some things there was just no way out of. Her child was in my arms. ‘Please don’t kill her.’
My cousin’s eyes met mine. Her lips parted. The Sultan’s words came back to me. Shira was good at making bargains. And she had one last thing to trade. One last coin she could try to buy her life with. Me. She could offer the Sultan the Blue-Eyed Bandit and the whole Rebellion in exchange for her life.