Now I am the one who stares. “You do have a keen eye.”
“I grew up in court,” she replies. “Everyone I’ve ever known is an expert liar. I learned long ago to see the intent behind the masks. So tell me, Zahra, what are you to this Rahzad? Are you his lover?”
“No!”
She gives me a sly look. “Do you wish that you were?”
“No.” Perhaps I say the word with too much emphasis, because she smiles a little.
“It was an honest question. He is handsome, and you speak highly of him.”
“We are friends.” My thoughts are treasonous, insensibly conjuring up the image of Aladdin on the rooftop, his eyes deep with concern as he watches me wake after the wards knocked me out.
Caspida’s full attention is now trained on me, and her eyes cut deep. “I will have to be careful with you, I think. Your lies are smooth, your tongue quick. I brought you here to learn more about your prince, but perhaps I should be paying more attention to you.”
Time to steer this conversation into safer waters. As much as I would love to tell her the truth—after all, she is your own blood, Habiba, and your spirit is strong in her—I know I can’t trust her, not when she has a jinn charmer at her side. The thought refocuses me on my mission.
I stand up and walk to the statue of the winged woman and place a hand reverently on her foot. The pedestal she stands on is tall, and her knees are on a level with the top of my head.
“This is remarkable,” I comment. Caspida is watching me with interest as I circle the statue, inspecting it from all sides. “How old is it?”
“It was made for my mother, when she married my father.”
I turn to Caspida and ask in a tone deceptively neutral, “Is she an ancestress of yours?”
“Very distantly, yes.” Caspida rises and joins me in gazing up at the stone face, which isn’t a very good likeness, truth be told. Time has weathered the memory of you, or else I wouldn’t be able to walk freely here, wearing your face. “This is Roshana, the last queen of the Amulen Empire, back when my people ruled all the lands from the east to the west. She is something of a legend among us. Every queen aspires to learn from her mistakes.”
“Her mistakes? Surely you mean her victories.”
“What?”
I frown at her. “Roshana was one of the greatest queens in the world. She ended the Mountain Wars, she routed Sanhezriyah the Mad, she—”
“For a foreign serving girl, you are strangely well versed in Amulen history.”
“I spent a lot of time in libraries as a girl.”
“Were you there to dust the scrolls or read them?”
“Surely Roshana’s victories outweigh her errors.”
“The higher you rise, the farther you fall. For all her wisdom, Roshana was fooled by the jinni, believing it was her friend, and then it destroyed her. Ever since that day, my people have hunted the jinn. There is no creature more vicious and untrustworthy.”
“This is not the story I heard,” I say softly. “My people tell it differently. That the jinni truly was a friend to Roshana but was forced to turn against her. That she had no choice.”
“Surely I know how my own ancestress died,” returns the princess, a bit hotly. “Anyway, it was a long time ago, but we Amulens do not forget.”
“No,” I murmur. “I suppose you don’t. And you’ve grown into strong and clever fighters, from what I hear. That you even have those among you who can trap jinn.”
Caspida watches me closely, a small, curious smile on her lips. “Jinn charmers have been around for centuries. We did not invent the art. Do you not have them in Istarya?”
“I’m afraid we’re among those who would rather bow to the jinn than fight them.”
“But not your master,” Caspida notes. “Isn’t he here to study our methods?”
“What do you do with a trapped jinni? It sounds dangerous. Surely you dispose of them.”
She watches me for a moment, then says, “Perhaps one day I will tell you. Forgive me, but my people’s secrets are not mine to give.”
She is a princess apologizing to a servant. Speaking to me as if we are equals. And it strikes me then, as it had not before, that she truly is your descendant, that some part of your spirit has passed to her. I feel I know her far more intimately than the space of a few minutes of conversation would make possible. I see you in her, and for that, I cannot be angry with her.