Artan heaved a breath, holding it for a spell. At this odd behavior, Shahrzad’s confusion swelled further, and she stopped speaking.
When Artan eyed her sidelong, Shahrzad continued. “One night, when one of her dragons brought her a thick gold necklace she’d requested from a distant land, the girl smelled the strange perfume adorning its silken wrappings and decided she could no longer live with wanting this power. She had to have it. The girl demanded the dragon take her to its magic’s source. The dragon turned to the full moon, its distress plain on its horned face. The girl did not care. She insisted the dragon take her to the moon so that she might harness its power. They flew toward it, a volley of stars collecting in their midst. The girl gathered the stars and from them fashioned a rope. Then—though the dragon roared a final warning—the girl threw a ring of stars around the moon, all while laughing like a bell tolling in the night.”
Shahrzad stopped to glance at Artan. “But, like so many things of power, the moon refused to be contained.”
At this, Artan smiled. But it was not a smile of amusement. It was a smile of something much darker and deeper.
“The moon began to glide through the sky. Torn from her dragon’s back, the girl clung to the rope of stars. She cried out, asking the moon to grant her wish or release her. Like a chilling breeze, the moon’s reply chased across her skin: ‘You wish to be powerful? Then I will make you into my shadow. A moon to command the lost stars. But know that such a thing will come at a cost.’ Without hesitating, the girl trilled with laughter. ‘I care not about cost. Take all my worldly possessions, for I have no need of them once I possess such power.’ The moon’s words wafted through the night air, colder than a first snow. ‘Very well, girl. I have long desired a true companion.’ Then, in a swirl of stardust, the moon turned the girl into its shadow, bereft of all light. Tethered to it for all time. This shadow moon—the new moon—was granted power only a few nights a year. But never power enough to free itself from its bonds.”
“This is why the moon we know seems to disappear,” Artan finished quietly. “Overshadowed. Eclipsed.”
Shahrzad nodded once. “Always chasing the true moon.”
Their voices fell silent as the waves crashed in the distance.
“Why are you here, little snipe?” Artan began. “Is it really for your father?”
“Yes.” Her response was swift.
“Nothing more?”
At this, Shahrzad hesitated. Of course she was here for her father. But she was also here for another reason. A reason that needed to remain shrouded in mystery. “Why do you ask?”
Artan turned his head to hers. “Because I know there’s more. I know you’re queen of a broken city and of a kingdom on the brink of war. That your king is a monster.”
Shahrzad said nothing. Her fingers moved to the bare skin of her stomach, tentatively grazing her wound. It felt hot to the touch. Her mind’s eye returned to only moments ago, when Artan Temujin’s face had lost all hints of pretense.
When signs of true remorse—signs of richer emotion—were all too evident.
“Trust is an interesting matter when it comes to Artan. He will not give it to those who do not offer it first.”
Perhaps it was time to put a small measure of trust in this boy. “Khalid is—not a monster. Not at all.” Her heart lulled for a beat in the warmth of memory.
“Truly?” Artan studied her further. “Then what is he?”
“Why are you so curious?” Her eyes narrowed. “Why did you agree to help me, Artan Temujin?”
Artan did not reply immediately. “That story about the girl? It’s about my family.”
“What?” Trying to conceal her shock, Shahrzad turned to face him.
“Don’t misunderstand me. Facets of your story are ridiculous. Heavily embellished by time. But its core is rooted in truth. One of my ancestors stole a powerful bringer of light to become an equally powerful wish-granter. In return, her maker trapped her. Bound her to him forever. A powerful genie, trapped in a hollow sword.” His expression was equal parts bitter and blithe.
For a moment, Shahrzad was filled with disbelief. “I—”
“You wanted to know why I agreed to help you. It’s mostly because Musa-abagha asked me to. And because I am bound by my ancestor’s foolishness. Bound to be a trapped granter of wishes. Musa-abagha has kept me safe these many years. Safe from those who would enslave me. Make of me a dragon who does nothing but bring gold necklaces to thankless little girls.” He laughed bitterly. “Musa Zaragoza protects me from my family’s curse; he keeps us—me, Parissa, Mas, and the others—hidden and teaches us to control our powers. Protects us all here at the Fire Temple. Here, when we are asked to use our abilities, it is always our choice. Here, we are never slaves to our magic.”