But Sajda wasn’t a full-blooded human, and her eyes found gradients within the darkness. Shadows that were a faint shade darker than the air around them showed her where the vertical support beams stood. The beams across the ceiling were solid black stripes against a lighter canvas of the same black. She moved quickly, avoiding pillars and ducking low when necessary, until she reached the corner farthest from the supply closet.
Here, the darkness was bathed in the silvery sheen of the stars that shone through a skylight—the only one outside those that were placed above the corridors and the arena. Sajda wondered if the original plan for the prison had included a larger building. Or maybe skylights over the staircases. Whatever had happened, she was grateful for this abandoned window to the heavens.
The light illuminated the corner, spreading out to nearly the size of Sajda’s room. She’d brought blankets and pillows years ago to create a tiny oasis of comfort for herself. Crawling onto the neatly layered blankets, she eased her head back against a pillow and stared at the blue-black sky above her.
The stars were scattered across its surface like handfuls of silver-white jewels. Sajda searched the velvet sky, finding the patterns of the stars that were visiting her at this hour of the night. There was the trio of brilliantly glowing jewels lined up in a row like a drawn sword.
She traced her eyes over the dusting of stars that spread out from the trio and imagined it was shards of broken glass. The remnants of a cage the sword had destroyed. Farther to the right, seven medium-size stars could be a person fleeing if she connected the dots.
She liked to think it was the warden, and that if she could just concentrate hard enough, the trio would become the weapon she needed to destroy the cuffs and leave Maqbara forever.
The group of stars seemed to grow brighter, their silvery glow rushing down from the heavens to linger on her skin. Her magic stirred, an impossible hunger that scraped at her skin until she thought she’d go mad from the want of it.
Lifting her hands, she reached for the starlight, tangling her fingers in the glow and letting her magic absorb the power—cold and unbearably distant. It sank into her, a beauty that tore something inside until tears slipped down her face and her breathing came in ragged bursts.
It was homesickness, though the stars weren’t her home.
It was a sense of deep connection, though the stars were unknowable.
It was the closest thing to freedom she could find.
Turning from the trio, she searched until she found her favorite. A tiny prick of light at the far edge of the sky she could see. The star was more blue than silver, and it didn’t rotate through the sky the same way the others did. Sajda thought maybe it was another land full of people. What would it be like, living so far from this kingdom of blood and broken promises? If she could get to the tiny blue star, would Akram glow in the distance? Or would it disappear and take all her heartache with it?
Would the faint memory of her mother’s face as she told Sajda to be good and show off her ears so someone would offer a generous sum fall into the endless darkness of the night sky, never to haunt her again? Would the taste of fear, chalky and bitter, leave her mouth forever?
Maybe on the tiny blue star, mothers didn’t sell their little girls. Maybe dark elves weren’t feared by good people and used by bad. Maybe there, she would be loved.
Slowly lowering her hands, she stared at her fingers. At the silvery sheen that seemed to glow from within her. Her wrists ached beneath her cuffs, but she didn’t care. She was home when her magic consumed the starlight, and that was worth any pain she had to endure.
She lay on the blanket for an hour, watching the silver-white jewels slowly spin past her skylight. Letting the glow tangle with her magic and wound her with its cold perfection. Feeling the icy, untouchable essence of the stars fill her and lend her the strength to eventually make her way back to the supply closet. Back to the staircase. And back to her little room on the fifth level.
One day, she’d break the cuffs and get out of Maqbara. And when she did, she would find someplace far from people who could hurt her. Someplace under a vast, unknowable sky. And she would be home.
TWENTY-ONE
THE DAY AFTER the combat round in the arena, Javan skipped kneeling for morning prayers. He figured Yl’ Haliq, the all-knowing, understood how stiff he was. How every move ignited a bone-deep ache that throbbed throughout his entire body.
Instead, he lay on his bed staring at the stone ceiling above him, waiting for first bell and praying his doubt into words as the sacred texts instructed.
“Yl’ Haliq, be merciful on your servant,” he whispered. “For I am . . . I feel so alone. Don’t you see that? I’m trapped in prison, my uncle has betrayed me, and my only hope is a girl who barely tolerates me.” His throat closed, and he blinked rapidly as tears burned his eyes. “Have you abandoned me?”
He closed his eyes and tried to quell the seething doubts. The fire of his anger. Tried to make room for the soft, still voice of Yl’ Haliq. “Please. I’m supposed to rule Akram. I’m supposed to protect my kingdom. I can’t do that here.”
There was no reply, but Javan’s heart started beating faster. An awareness spread through him, tingling down his spine and gathering in his chest like joy and heartbreak and hope all twined together.
“Are you there?” he whispered. “Will you please send your faithful servant a sign? Let me know that I’m not alone. That this is part of your plan for my life.”
He fell silent, and in the quiet heard the soft rub of a boot against the stone corridor outside his room. His eyes flew open, and Sajda stood just outside his cell, a chunk of buttered bread and an apple in her hand. The iron bars creaked and groaned as it slowly rose into the ceiling while first bell began tolling.
“Who were you talking to?” She peered around his cell as if he might have someone hidden beneath his bed or behind his privy bucket.
“I was praying.” He pulled a tunic over his head, wincing as he pushed his injured arm through the sleeve. The pain was a dull throb today—much better than the sharp knife of agony he’d felt the day before. He decided the more he moved it, the better. He couldn’t afford to be too stiff to fight if any of the prisoners decided to come for him. “How much did you hear?”
There was a flash of compassion on her face, gone so fast he almost missed it. “Not much. Here’s your breakfast.”
“Tarek sent you, did he?”
“He was running behind this morning, so I came on my own.” She sounded grumpy.
He got to his feet, brushed his hair away from his face, and accepted the apple. “Thank you. Does this make us friends?”
“Maybe.” She frowned at him.
“Your overwhelming enthusiasm is making me uncomfortable,” he said dryly.
She grinned, a quick flash of white teeth and sparkling eyes, and it was as if someone had sucked all the air out of the room.