‘How do we get out of the city, Leyla?’
She had stopped crying. She considered me for a moment with those dark eyes under long lashes, rimmed in red from her tears. She ran a sleeve across her nose, sniffling like a little girl. There was almost nothing of her brother Rahim in her. Or the Sultan, for that matter. There was more in that face of her pale Gamanix mother – an inventor’s daughter from the same northern land that had made Jin’s and Ahmed’s compasses. Her features were more delicate than her brother’s or father’s, and though she was as dark as any Mirajin girl, it was obvious she hadn’t seen as much sun as a girl ought to have, trapped behind these walls. The harem had made her look soft and childish, where Rahim looked hardened by his years in the mountains. But that didn’t mean that was what they were: a hardened son and a gentle daughter. Rahim had looked broken by his sister’s betrayal of him in favour of their father, the man who cost their mother her life. And, in turn, Leyla had seemed to be sharpened by her loyalty to their father, those fine features turning cruel. I saw it now, that nastiness in the curl of her lip as she stared down the barrel of my gun and answered me. ‘There’s a gap in the barrier, by the northernmost gate, big enough for a person to slip through.’
I fired, and the bullet hit her in the leg. She screamed again, doubling over in pain as the consequence of the lie made her bleed. Fresh anger bloomed in me, that she would start trying to trick me now that we were so close. ‘Now, why did you think that lie would work?’ I asked her.
‘Because you’re almost out of bullets.’
She was right, I realised. Five shots. I’d taken five shots at her. Which meant this was my last one.
And then I saw it above me: the shape of a giant Roc shooting back into the air from the ruins of the palace dome. Jin and Maz, leaving the inner sanctum of the palace, making a run for it. Meaning we were out of time. That was when I heard the sound of approaching footsteps and shouts far off in the harem. The guards were finally coming for the Sultan’s favourite daughter.
We needed to get out.
I aimed the gun at her. ‘Leyla, how do we get out of this city? Tell me the truth and this bullet will miss you. Lie and it’s going to bury itself in your skull.’
Leyla was shaking a little as she stared me down. She was scared. She was a traitor to us, but I was the enemy to her. This was war, after all.
‘Why should I tell you if you’re just going to kill me anyway?’ she shot back at me. ‘That bullet might miss me, but there are other ways you could kill me. You could break my neck or choke me to death.’ A memory passed between us: Leyla gently inspecting the bruises on my neck after the Gallan ambassador had almost squeezed the life out of me. ‘Why would you leave me alive?’ She had a good point: she was a danger to us alive. And if she gave me this information, she was no more use to us. ‘I’d rather die than be a traitor to my father and my ruler. I’ll never tell you.’ I kept my finger on the trigger. But I didn’t squeeze. I’ll never tell you. I didn’t want to know if that was true. And if it was a lie, then I needed her without a bullet in her skull.
Damn her.
‘You’re right.’ I pulled the hammer back on the gun. It made her flinch. Not as ready to die as she wanted us to think she was. ‘I can’t afford to leave you here alive.’ I holstered the pistol quickly, releasing the trigger, leaving the bullet in the chamber. I grabbed her, wrenching her to her feet. ‘Let’s go.’
Izz was changing shape again, bursting into that of the enormous Roc. Leyla kicked and screamed, but she was small and I was stronger than her. I got her on to Izz’s back before she could start to fight and claw in earnest. We were in the air and out of range of their guns before the guards could even get close enough to shoot.
Chapter 5
‘Well, that was useless.’ Hala slammed the door behind herself loudly.
I’d been half dozing in the windowsill, but Hala’s rage was enough to jolt me awake.
We’d shoved Leyla into the room I’d been sharing with Hala. In stories, princesses stolen from their father got hidden away in towers in the desert or palaces above the clouds. But all we had was a room with a half-decent lock in the Hidden House. And we barely had that. Most of the Rebellion had been captured with Ahmed, but there were still enough of us left that we didn’t all fit into the Hidden House along with the women and children who already claimed it as home. We had everyone stacked three or four to a room, sleeping on makeshift pillow beds or straight on the floor. Even more folks slept on the roof, under the fiery sky that kept it from ever being properly dark, shielding their eyes from it as best they could. Which meant our precious prisoner had more space to herself than anyone else in this house.
Hala and I had moved our meagre collection of belongings to the neighbouring bedroom, which belonged to Sara and her child. Fadi, Shira’s son, now slept in there as well since Sara had taken up care of him. It seemed natural, since she was the only one of us who actually knew what she was doing with a baby. Although I’d seen Jin soothe him once or twice when Sara was asleep. It was all a temporary solution though. He wasn’t Sara’s or Jin’s or even mine. He was an orphan now, and when this war was over I’d have to find somewhere he belonged. If we won this war. If we didn’t …
Now, in our new shared room, I was sitting on the windowsill and Jin was on the floor next to it, head tipped back against the wall below me. My hand had dropped to the crown of his head as I dozed, like I needed to make sure he was still there. Both of us were awake now, watching Hala tiredly. We were all exhausted from this morning’s invasion of the palace and the unexpected princess kidnapping.
Sara sat in the corner, one hand rocking the cradle she’d dug out for Fadi. As it swung back and forth, I could just see his dash of blue hair in between the blankets. Another Demdji. Another child who would die if this country fell to the Gallan who waited outside our gates. In the room’s only bed, Sara’s small son stirred just a little, uneasy in his sleep, his fist stuck in his mouth. It was evening, still light out, and the sunlight streaming through the lattice pattern of the window next to me drew shadowy patterns across his face. Shazad had said once that the little boy’s father was Bahi, her oldest friend, who had died at the hand of my brother, Noorsham. I hadn’t known Bahi long, but even I could see the resemblance. The unruly dark curls and the soft open expression that had made me trust Bahi when I still wasn’t even sure I could learn to trust Jin again, now worn by a little boy who would never know his father because of this war.
We kept losing people. And not just our people. People who belonged to others. People whose lives we’d had no right to lay down for them.
‘Weren’t you supposed to come back with papers?’ Hala slumped against the door heavily, her anger fading, like a puppet whose strings had just been snipped, finally releasing her from some great show. The skin below her eyes was dark from lack of sleep, and she seemed thinner than she once had. ‘Or some sort of map that says, Secret doorway through the barricade here, maybe? Instead you bring me back a princess who already led her father to us once.’ She dropped, her back sliding slowly down the door until she was sitting on the ground. ‘Next time I’d appreciate a better gift after all my efforts to get you into the palace. I’m very partial to rubies, for instance. Sapphires are also acceptable.’