“I’m the prince. Once I’m free—”
“If you got free, you’d shake the dust from this place off your feet and never look back.”
He straightened his shoulders, ignoring the bolt of pain the movement caused. “I swear upon my mother’s life that I would pay your fee. I am a man of my word. Simply name your price.”
She shook her head. “What good is wahda to me?” She swept her arms out wide, the first diamond-bright sheen of starlight catching on the marks carved into her bracelets. “What would it buy me? An extra blanket from the weavers when they come to visit next spring so I can warm myself on terribly cold nights? A nice cut of meat from the butcher so I can enjoy its flavor while I eat an animal that knew more of the outside world than I do? Or maybe I can bribe the more violent prisoners to stay away from me for one more miserable day. Tell me, O prince of Akram, which of those fine items should I buy with your coin?”
He’d miscalculated. Badly. And if he didn’t find a way to salvage the situation quickly, his best hope to stop the impostor and rescue his father—his kingdom—would be lost.
He would be lost.
“You’re right,” he said quietly, before she could turn away and leave him alone, teetering on the brink of despair. “I’m sorry. I’m desperate.”
“Everyone in here is desperate.” Her voice trembled a little, though the stoniness of her gaze was unwavering.
Everyone here was desperate. Everyone.
Including her.
“What do you need?” he asked.
She drew back, eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t need coin. You care nothing for the promises of a prince. But you’re right—everyone in here is desperate.” He caught himself leaning toward the bars again and stopped. “I have to stop the impostor who wants to take the throne of Akram by killing anyone who stands in his way. That means I need a way out of here. And that means I need you. But it has to be worth it to you to help me.”
“And it isn’t.”
“It could be.” Yl’ Haliq be merciful, it had to be worth it to her. Javan was out of other ideas. His voice shook as he said, “A fair trade. You show me how to escape—”
“There is no escape.” She ran her fingers over the bracelet on her left arm. “Do you think I’d still be here if there was?”
“There has to be something.” His voice rose, and he clenched his fists against the futile spark of anger in his chest. It wasn’t her fault he was trapped in Maqbara, surrounded by enemies. Wasn’t her fault the kingdom Javan had dedicated his life to was in terrible danger. He took a deep breath and sent a silent prayer to Yl’ Haliq for help.
She cocked her head to study him, and something in her expression told him he’d been found wanting. “There are only two ways to get out of Maqbara before your sentence is up. Overpower the warden—”
“We could do that if—”
“Which is impossible. Or—”
“Nothing is impossible.” He hoped.
“Says the boy who thought he was supposed to rule a kingdom, but whose god allowed him to be thrown into prison instead.”
He absorbed her words and tried to ignore the ache of doubt that fed on them. Pushing against the heavy sense of despair that wanted to shroud him in stone, he said, “And the second way out?”
That eyebrow climbed toward her hairline again. “Win the tournament and for your boon, ask for immediate release.”
He closed his eyes, and swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. It all came down to that cursed tournament. To surviving the days between combat, though he had enemies throughout the prison and guards who wouldn’t lift a finger to help. To gaining enough points in the combat rounds to win while watching his back every second so that no one drove a sword through it.
That strategy had already failed him, and she was telling him there was no other way. Slowly, he opened his eyes to find her watching him, a tiny frown etched into the space between her eyes as if he was a puzzle she was trying to solve.
A puzzle.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. All puzzles had a correct solution, but often there were multiple paths to the same outcome. He’d tried one path, and it hadn’t worked. Maybe she could help him forge another.
“If there’s no other way out of Maqbara, then I have to win the tournament, but that’s going to be hard after today.”
She sniffed.
“I have to survive between combat rounds. And I can’t fight the beasts and also watch for Hashim and his friends. I need allies. I need leverage. And I need a plan.”
She looked annoyed. “I gave you a plan, and what did you do? You ignored it and nearly got yourself killed in the arena for your trouble.”
“I ignored it because I learned that if I win the tournament, I get an audience with my father. And I didn’t get myself killed.”
“Nearly.”
“Nearly isn’t the same as dead. I can do this. I just need a better plan.”
She remained quiet.
“Sajda, I have to win. And clearly, I need help understanding the power structure inside the prison and which prisoners might turn into allies.” He met her gaze. “I need you. Please tell me what I can do for you to earn your help.”
She stared at him in silence, but the stoniness of her gaze softened into something faraway and troubled.
“What do you need?” he asked softly.
There was a long silence, and then in a whisper he had to strain to catch she said, “Freedom.”
“I know you won’t believe me, but I can promise that after I’m released, I’ll come back and free you.” Please let her believe him. He had nothing else to offer.
Her gaze snapped back into the present, and her full lips twisted as though she’d sucked on something bitter. “And then what? I go out into the world and pretend I know how to live there? No thanks.”
There was something dark beneath her words. Something that struck a chord in the grief that lived within him. He sifted through her words, hunting for the thing she wasn’t saying.
She wanted freedom. That was clear, though he thought she already regretted admitting it. But she was afraid. Afraid of the world outside the prison, because she’d known nothing else since she was five.
Sold as a child. Raised in a prison that ran on violence and bloodshed. It was all she knew. No wonder she was afraid of the one thing she desperately wanted. She knew how to survive in the darkness, but was terrified she’d be lost in the light.
“I can teach you,” he said, fragile tendrils of hope threading though his despair.
She folded her arms over her chest. “Teach me what?”
“Anything. Everything. The history of the kingdoms. Tactical military strategy. Applied mathematics. Court customs and manners. Alchemy. The path of the stars.”
Her eyes lit up. “You understand the stars?”
“I do.” His breath caught in his chest at the way her face glowed when she was unguarded.