“But why would Musa-effendi need to protect you from your family?”
“My family is every bit as power-hungry as the girl who grasped the moon. They are monsters imbued with strange magic. My aunt safeguards them in a mountain fortress. But”—Artan paused, his face grim—“she’s made mistakes before. My parents were casualties of her arrogance. They left the fortress, seeking a way to destroy their bonds. The magic they leaked into the world brought about terrible consequences. As a result, my aunt expects me to stay near and do as I’m told. Serve whom I’m told. So I ran away.” Artan watched her closely as he spoke. “I find my aunt’s control to be another form of slavery.”
Shahrzad mirrored his scrutiny, taking care in preparing her next question.
“Is your aunt—very powerful?”
He snorted. “She could set fire to this temple with a single belch. And light every candle in Khorasan with the mere hint of her flatulence.”
“Be serious.”
“She’s powerful.” Artan laughed without guile. “And, like you, completely devoid a sense of humor.”
Shahrzad let another small stretch of time pass, the sound of waves crashing upon one another growing louder, much like her thoughts. “Is she powerful enough to cure the sick?” She gnawed her lip. “Powerful enough to—break a curse?”
“Ah.” He cut her a glance, all signs of humor gone. “There it is. Are you the one cursed?”
Shahrzad closed her eyes, then shook her head.
“Well, she’d need to speak with the one cursed,” Artan replied. “And she would need to know what kind of magic was used.”
“What if we don’t know?” she whispered.
He brought both hands behind his neck, weaving his fingers through one another. After a time, Artan responded, his words soft. “You’ll have to bring him, Shahrzad. Your king. He’ll have to speak with my aunt if she’s to help him.”
Fear gripped her chest. Though she’d meant for him to help her—which entailed him knowing the truth—it didn’t trouble her any less to hear it spoken aloud.
“Sometimes you make it so difficult to despise you,” Shahrzad mumbled.
“I know.” Artan grinned, still staring up at the stars.
They continued observing the night sky in companionable silence until the sound of footsteps swished in the sand nearby.
“Shahrzad-jan?” Musa’s deep voice rang out in the darkness.
She stood, a sharp pang zinging from the burn at her waist. “Yes?”
“If I could speak with you for a moment—” He reached into the folds of his cloak. “I’ve brought something for you.”
In his hand was a square of jade half the width of his palm, strung onto a slim circle of dark leather, meant to be worn about the neck. The surface of the polished green stone was covered in intricate markings.
“The talisman we spoke of,” Musa said quietly.
The one to ward away Khalid’s sleeplessness.
“I’m not certain it will do much,” Musa murmured. “Again, it will likely only stave off the effects for a short while. But I thought to help, in whatever small way.”
Artan yawned loudly at this. Shahrzad glared at him before glancing up at the tall figure before her. His black brows were stippled in white, furrowed by concern. “Thank you, Musa-effendi. This is far greater than anything I could have hoped for.”
Musa nodded. “Please tell Khalid—I’m sorry I wasn’t stronger those many years ago. I’m sorry for leaving him alone. But I’m here now, should he ever have need of me.” With that, he placed the talisman in her hand and bowed deeply, his fingertips grazing his forehead.
As her thumb brushed over the etchings carved into the jade, Shahrzad tried her best to ignore the undeniable weight settling around her heart.
The weight of realization.
And the thrill of certainty.
I’m going home.
A MOUSE’S CALL TO ARMS
THE MOON WAS A HALF DISC OF ALABASTER. IN THE distance, the clouds churned in tenebrous suggestion.
Just like the twist of nerves in Irsa’s stomach.
Alas, she was not a good sneak. For her toes seemed to snag on everything in sight.
Twenty paces ahead, Shahrzad moved from shadow to shadow with a sure-footedness Irsa would have envied, were she not so aggravated.
Were she not so angry.
Irsa drew her cloak tighter about her—
And caught her ankle on another tent binding.
Muttering one of Shahrzad’s choicest epithets, Irsa tore her sandal loose, then squinted through the dark.
Her sister had disappeared.
Without a moment’s pause, Irsa broke into a run.
As she rounded the curve of the next tent, a hand darted from a pool of shadow and snared her wrist.
“Why are you following me?” It was both a demand and accusation.
Irsa gasped. Shahrzad’s eyes flashed through the gloom.
Shocked from its temporary stupor, Irsa’s pulse began rampaging through her body. Hot on its heels raced her indignation.
Irsa ripped her arm from Shahrzad’s grasp. “Where are you going?” Fury dotted every word.
Shahrzad’s jaw dropped.
Clearly, Shahrzad had not expected Irsa to be cross with her.