The Little Rose looked at the sky and smiled. She could not have seen very much of it through the window of her tower room, and I wondered if she had missed the stars.
“The piskey offered me escape,” she said at last. “Just a little more magic on top of what was already done, but the threads were already spinning when the gift was given. Should I choose to, I can take up a spindle and set myself to spinning thread. In the moment when I reach for the whorl, I will instead prick my finger upon the pointed end. There will be a pain like the sting of a bee, and I will be lost to the waking world before the demon can overtake me.”
“Why don’t you do it?” Saoud said.
The Little Rose flexed her fingers, hands retreating into the sleeves of her dress.
“You know—you must know,” she said, desperation in her tone, “what it is to want that which you cannot have.”
Saoud, who wanted to belong. Arwa, who wanted her mother. Tariq, who wanted to do his work. And me…who wanted more than I could name.
“Yes,” Saoud said.
“That is how much I want to spin,” she said. “I was born to it. Spinning is my blood, and the blood of my people, from the time before we came across the great desert to settle in this land. I was beginning to learn, you know, when the curse happened. Yashaa was probably already a master of it, but I had other lessons besides. I remember, if I think about it, what it felt like to spin—to feel a work grow under my fingers. I miss it.”
It was fully dark now, and we needed to go. We needed to save our talk for when we were more sure of our safety. But I saw her eyes and knew that not even Saoud would interrupt her now.
“I should know so many things,” she said. “I should be able to bake bread, even though my kitchens will always have a bread mistress. I should know how to weave a tapestry and write a trade agreement. I should know, but I can’t. I was born and bred to do these things, and my heart cries out for them, and I can’t. I cannot make anything. Every stitch, every note, every letter, and every dance step would prepare me for the demon’s curse, and spinning would seal it. And I cannot take the piskey’s gift. I would sleep forever, but the demon would be free—the curse would remain unbroken—and then my kingdom, my people, would be queenless and cursed, both.”
The full weight of it settled onto all of us. Arwa wiped her face with her borrowed scarf. Tariq stared into the distance, adding more pieces to the ever-growing story he kept in his mind. I could think of nothing to say or do, but Saoud was already moving.
He knelt before her then, the only one of us unsworn to her, though I did not know what power was in the oaths of children. Perhaps they were sufficient, as they were made with innocence and heart.
“Princess,” he said, “I do not know what I can do, but I am yours. I do not promise this out of pity for you, nor even any particular loyalty to you. I swear it for them, those that you have said I love, because I do. My service is yours, if you will have it.”
“I will, Saoud,” she said. “And I am glad of it. Guide and guard them, as you have done, and we will follow you.”
“The moon is rising,” Tariq said, and I could see by its light that there were tears in his eyes.
“We have to go,” Saoud said, rising to his feet. “I will lead, then Tariq, then Arwa and Zahrah, and last Yashaa. Do not speak above a whisper. Try to follow the steps of the person in front of you as closely as you can.” He hesitated for a moment and then spoke again. “We cannot go back for the spindles. I am sorry.”
“It’s for the best, I suppose,” Tariq said, looking at the Little Rose. “We have nothing she can use to spin.”
He spoke so bravely, and I knew his heart was breaking. Arwa’s and mine were, too, for those spindles had belonged to our families; if they were lost, all we had was each other. And the Little Rose. I saw even in the dark that she knew it, and she rested a hand on Tariq’s shoulder.
“My friend,” she said, and was somehow at once both unreachable and ours. “Thank you.”
Saoud hefted his pack on his back and looked at me. I nodded, and we set out into the night.