He pushed her.
It was one swift, violent motion that sent her over the edge of the wall, falling fast. Her scream ripped the air open like a knife through cloth, drawing up every eye that hadn’t noticed her. Some cries from the crowd mingled with hers as the whole of the square watched helplessly as she fell. Nightclothes twisted cruelly around her flailing legs, feet frantically searching for a purchase they wouldn’t find. As she dropped, the long, colourful rope of the noose unfurled like a sheema caught in the desert wind, whipping behind her in a trail of red.
Until there was none of it left to unfurl.
It snapped taut. The noose around her throat pulled tight, bringing her fall to a wrenching stop.
Her scream cut off with sickening suddenness. And I knew it was over.
Her name was Rima. She was from a poor family that lived by the docks. Her father’s door had a sun emblazoned on it in scarlet paint, left over from the Blessed Sultima’s Uprising. That was why she had been taken. Ahmed’s sun had turned from a symbol of defiance into a target.
She was the middle daughter of five. The Sultan could have plucked any one of them from their beds that night. But Rima was closest in age to me.
*
The second girl was named Ghada. We never even got a chance to save her. We never so much as saw her alive. Dawn found her body already hanging from the palace walls next to Rima’s. She’d been killed inside, where we didn’t have a hope of reaching her. The Sultan wasn’t foolish enough to repeat the same trick twice.
On the afternoon after Ghada’s death, her father, who had rioted in the streets against the Sultan, stood in the square before the palace and denounced the rebellion that had condemned his innocent daughter. I didn’t blame him for his words. He had another daughter he needed to save.
*
Naima was the name of the third girl. The third one we failed to save. The third one who died for our crimes.
No matter what we did, what we tried, we were too late. Too slow. We would have to get into the palace to save them before they died. And we didn’t have any way in with Sam gone. Hell, we hadn’t managed to get in back when he was still with us.
‘No living parents.’ Sara was telling me what she had learned about Naima, as she rocked Fadi in her arms. ‘But she has four brothers.’ Curtains were pulled against prying eyes, but early morning light leaked through the lattice of the window to dance anxiously across her face as she moved. There was something else she wasn’t telling me.
‘What is it?’
‘You don’t need to torture yourself.’ Jin interrupted Sara before she could get out with it. He was leaning against the far wall, watching me. ‘You’re not responsible for every death in this rebellion any more than Ahmed was.’
It was good advice, the sort that Shazad might give me if she were still here. But she wasn’t. And I wasn’t Ahmed, either. I had told Tamid that I had changed, that I wasn’t someone who let folks die on my account. But there were three bodies hanging from the palace walls to prove me wrong. Maybe I hadn’t changed from that selfish Dustwalk girl as much as I’d thought. Maybe going back with Tamid really would take me right back to where I’d started. ‘I am responsible for this one, though.’
No one contradicted me. It was the truth, after all.
Sara’s eyes flitted between Jin and me for a moment before continuing. ‘They’re saying it was a neighbour who denounced them to the palace as allies of the Rebellion. Someone her brothers thought was a friend, who was just as much a part of the riots as they were.’
‘The neighbour will have sold them out to save his own family,’ Jin filled in, looking grim.
Sara nodded gravely. ‘Naima’s brothers figured out he was responsible. He was just found beaten to death in his home.’ I felt sick to my stomach. A violent act of revenge and grief. Brothers trying to make someone pay for a dead sister since they couldn’t reach the Sultan.
‘This is what the Sultan wants,’ Jin said. ‘For what’s left of the Rebellion’s support in the city to turn on itself.’
‘Well, nice of us to make it so easy for him, then,’ I muttered.
‘You know,’ Hala interjected, ‘we can wallow and continue to watch people die. Or we could just fix the mistake you made and give that useless princess back to her father.’
‘No.’ I shook my head emphatically. ‘Even if she does turn out to be useless to us, she’s not useless to her father.’ I glanced at the closed door. Tamid was talking to Leyla again on the other side of it now. He hadn’t gotten anything useful out of her yet, but he wasn’t ready to give up. He’d returned the second day carrying one of the tomes of the Holy Books. He seemed to think he could compel her to repent with religion. She’d killed an immortal being, so I had to guess that it wasn’t going to work, but I was ready to try anything by now.
‘I didn’t say we should give her back alive,’ Hala said, drawing my attention sharply back to her. Her words shifted the mood in the room instantly. I searched her face for a sign that she was being sarcastic; Hala had a cruel sense of humour. But I hadn’t seen her laugh a whole lot since Imin died.
‘We’re not going to kill her,’ Jin said, raising his dark eyebrows at her, like he thought she wasn’t serious.
‘Why not?’ Hala raised her own in a mocking imitation. ‘Because she’s your sister? She’d jump at the chance to kill every single one of us. And the Sultan’s demand never said whether he wanted her returned dead or alive.’
‘I feel like alive was implied,’ Jin said drily. ‘That’s usually the way with hostages.’
‘He ought to know better,’ Hala said. ‘We’re Djinn’s children; we take things by the letter.’ She offered him a sarcastic smirk. The twins shifted where they were sitting on the windowsill, looking uneasy at being dragged into this talk of murder. ‘Besides,’ Hala added, finally breaking her staring contest with Jin, ‘I don’t think it’s your decision.’ And then she looked at me.
I could feel Jin’s eyes on me, too. He was expecting me to say no right away, to side with him against Hala’s idea to murder his sister.
I hesitated.
The Sultan was trying to turn the city against us. He’d gotten away with killing three girls so far because in this story he was spinning, we were the villains. Kidnapping princesses wasn’t the sort of thing a hero did; that was the monster’s role. Heroes saved the princess. And heroes didn’t stand idly by when innocent girls were killed. The people would forget that the Sultan was the one doing the killing. All they would remember was that we were the ones who had sent them to the gallows. Killing Leyla wouldn’t get us out of the city, but it might at least stop more girls from dying in our name. Might stop the whole city turning against us before we could ever get Ahmed back to lead them.
But what kind of monsters would we be to lay his daughter’s body on his doorstep?
I was saved from answering when the door to Leyla’s bedroom prison opened. Tamid joined us, holding his Holy Book.
‘Any luck?’ I asked without much hope but grateful for the distraction all the same.
‘No, but …’ He hesitated, looking at his feet, like he was already dreading what he was about to say. ‘I have an idea of what might make her talk.’
‘If it’s death threats, don’t bother,’ Hala said. ‘She’s already made it clear she’s not afraid to die. Or at least she thinks she isn’t.’ She gave me a pointed look, like that entirely justified her whole kill the princess plan.
‘No,’ Tamid agreed, ‘but there’s something she is afraid of. One thing she values more than anything.’