“She didn’t even tell me anything,” Tarek said, his voice shaking with fury. “You don’t have to punish her.”
The warden whipped her gaze toward him, and Sajda instantly moved between them, her arm still trapped in the warden’s grip, her magic still throwing itself relentlessly at her palms as if testing the strength of the runes.
“It’s all right, Tarek.” Sajda tried to sound calm. “I shouldn’t have said anything at all. You should just go get your breakfast with the other prisoners.”
“That’s right, Sajda. You shouldn’t have said anything.” The warden’s smile died before it reached her eyes. “If you want to continue living under my hospitality, you will perform your duties to perfection. That includes keeping secrets.” The warden yanked Sajda close, and the girl’s magic seared her skin. Lowering her voice, the warden said, “Unless you’ve decided that we’re going to start sharing each other’s secrets now.”
Sajda shook her head, her stomach tightening.
The warden cocked her head. “Is that a no?”
“No,” Sajda breathed.
Leaning close, the warden whispered, “Don’t get careless, slave. The only good elf is a dead elf, remember? We wouldn’t want the prisoners to know that the monster they fear the most walks among them.”
TWELVE
JAVAN HAD AWAKENED to the sound of wind and sand scraping over the skylights in the ceiling outside his cell. The room was a narrow space cut deep into the bedrock with nothing but a small shelf, a privy bucket, and a sagging bed pushed up against the far wall. Javan hadn’t seen much of his new home since he’d arrived at his cell after sunset, but even the moonlight shining in through the corridor’s skylights had illuminated the layer of grit that clung to the floor and the spiderwebs that draped across each corner.
The prison was still dark as Javan slipped from his bed and got to his knees.
His morning prayers felt harder to speak, his whispered words swallowed up by the immense darkness of Maqbara. He’d waited for the peace that usually filled him to come, but instead his heart had ached, a steady throb of loneliness that was impossible to ignore.
The flame of anger that had stirred in the wake of his grief as he crossed the desert burned steadily, a sharp counterpoint to the ache in his heart.
He shouldn’t be here. His father shouldn’t be in danger. And the headmaster shouldn’t be dead.
And yet Yl’ Haliq had allowed it. How could Javan reconcile his divine destiny with his present circumstances? He was abandoned. Tossed into a hole and forgotten. Surrounded by criminals who behaved with dishonor.
He’d finished his prayers, lingering on the last word, his eyes tightly closed as he waited for . . . something. A sign. A reassurance that Yl’ Haliq still had his eyes on the prince.
Instead, he’d felt nothing but the steady burn of anger at the injustice of it all and the aching pressure in his chest whenever he thought about how alone he really was. Slowly he’d climbed to his feet.
The sacred texts taught that Yl’ Haliq was beyond human understanding. His ways were inscrutable, his wisdom unknowable, and his mercy boundless. Though Javan couldn’t see how, surely Yl’ Haliq was already at work on the prince’s behalf.
As first bell rang, Javan resolved to do his part to solve the puzzle of either gaining an audience with his father or escaping the prison. Whispering one more quick plea that Yl’ Haliq would bless his efforts, Javan had stretched and reached for a tunic in the murky light of dawn that managed to filter in.
His clothes, stained with the impostor’s blood, had been taken from him the previous night, though Sajda had let him keep the red sash with the quiet warning that if any of the more dangerous prisoners saw it and wanted it, they’d tear him limb from limb to get it. He’d been given two spare tunics in a dingy gray cotton, one spare pair of pants in the same hue, three pairs of socks, and several undergarments that were nearly worn thin. Everything was clean, though, and he had much bigger things to worry about than his clothing.
The only prison employee he’d met so far was Sajda. His stomach tightened as he thought of the unrelenting fierceness in her dark blue eyes and the way her body moved like a leopard’s—sleek and lethal. He’d hoped to gain an employee as an ally, but it clearly wouldn’t be her. He’d have to scout the prison for others today. According to Sajda’s coolly delivered list of facts and instructions as she’d escorted him to his cell on the fifteenth level, there were six guards on each level during the day. It was possible Javan could turn one of them into an ally, but it was risky. Better if he could get close to the cook or whoever ran the menagerie downstairs.
In the rush of grabbing a crust of bread for dinner, he’d forgotten to ask about the strange-sounding beasts. He had Sajda to thank for his meal since he hadn’t arrived in time to get any food. It didn’t surprise Javan one bit that when she calmly demanded food from a prisoner with a full plate, the woman had handed over the bread without dissent.
The prisoner had probably witnessed what happened when someone disobeyed Sajda.
A small, treacherous part of Javan’s mind was curious to see that too. Would Sajda be the kind of fighter she seemed to be? If she turned against him, would he be able to stop her?
He was getting out of Maqbara, even if he had to go through Sajda. She might be formidable, but thanks to his training at Milisatria, so was he. And he had far more at stake than the simple wish to get out of prison.
As the iron bars that covered the mouth of his cell slowly rose into the ceiling, he shoved his feet into the boots he’d been allowed to keep, folded the sash and tucked it next to his heart again, and then hurried toward level nine before all of the breakfast food was taken.
Prisoners were already crowding the stairs on their way to the kitchen as Javan joined those who were housed on the top level with him. Conversation surrounded him, and he moved quietly down each step, listening intently.
“I swear by all that’s holy, if it’s nothing but toast and lentil spread again, I’m going to kill the cook.”
“Haven’t seen the warden in days. Best sleep I’ve had in weeks.”
“They don’t have enough land beasts. I caught a peek at the stalls when I was scrubbing the royal box yesterday. I’m telling you the next round is going to be water monsters.”