How many prisoners were in Maqbara because they hadn’t been allowed to give any testimony or call any witnesses? How many were here on the word of an aristocrat who wanted to use the prison as a way to steal from those who already had less?
This was proof that the father he knew was no longer in charge of his kingdom. He would never have turned a blind eye to this. The aristocratic families Javan knew from Milisatria wouldn’t either, and he was willing to bet the same could be said for most of Akram. This was the result of Fariq’s treachery. His corruption had spread across the kingdom, a sickness paid for with the blood of his people.
Every person Javan had talked to within Maqbara said the same thing. The king was rarely seen now, and was known to be in poor health. Maybe he couldn’t put a stop to the damage Fariq and the impostor were doing to the kingdom, but Javan could.
He just had to make sure he won the last round of combat.
“I really am sorry,” Intizara said as the other prisoners who’d been meant to watch over Tarek joined her, carrying their meager belongings and refusing to meet his furious gaze.
“I am too.” Javan stood in front of Tarek’s body as the warden left the corridor that led to her office and walked toward the door that led to the magistrate’s office, ignoring Javan completely.
Helpless anger filled him. He couldn’t defeat the warden without weapons. He couldn’t turn back time and save Tarek. All he could do was prepare for the upcoming round of combat and try to comfort the girl he loved.
Javan didn’t wait to see the prisoners who’d sold Tarek gain their prize. He knew where Sajda would be. Turning away, he climbed the stairs to the fifteenth level and entered the storage closet.
Prayers gathered in his heart and poured from his lips in fractured whispers. As he closed the broken door behind him, he fell to his knees and cried beside the crate Sajda had used to escape into the rafters.
THIRTY-EIGHT
“THE KING IS no longer taking his tonic,” Rahim said, bursting into Fariq’s sitting room as his father was signing a pile of documents with a quill.
Fariq frowned, and waved his manservant from the room. When the door had closed behind him, Fariq said, “Watch your mouth in front of the staff. We don’t need rumors. Especially since someone murdered the heads of the FaSaa’il right under our noses. If that isn’t a clear sign that we have a traitor somewhere in our organization, I don’t know what is. We don’t know who we can trust.”
Fariq had no idea just how true his words would turn out to be. Rahim turned from his father before he could see the rage that crawled through him at being given orders.
He was the future king.
He was through taking orders from anyone.
“Now, what is this about not taking his tonic? The palace physician refilled it just yesterday.”
“Well, I don’t know what he’s doing with it, but he isn’t swallowing it.” Rahim turned back to Fariq, though the rage was still clawing at its cage. “His eyes are clear. He isn’t shuffling around and running into things. He asked me several very pointed questions yesterday, and I think he knows the tonic was poison.”
Fariq laid his quill down. “And did you answer those questions carefully?”
Rahim closed the distance between them. “I’m not a fool, Uncle. I deflected suspicion from me and agreed with him that he might be in danger and that he should double his personal guard.”
“You are a fool.” Fariq glared at his son. “You don’t validate his fears and make him harder to reach!”
“If I hadn’t agreed with him, I would have looked guilty. He was fishing for it. Asking me questions about my mother. About Milisatria. About the symptoms of his illness. About you.”
Fariq froze. “He suspects me?”
Rahim nodded. Oh yes, the king suspected his cousin of trying to kill him and remove him from the throne. Rahim had made sure of it. It was unfortunate that the king’s suspicion of Fariq had caused him to stop taking his tonic. Rahim couldn’t afford to risk the king recognizing Javan and halting the coronation. Still, he could dose the king with saffeyena the morning of Maqbara’s competition, and that would keep the king in a groggy state long enough to be seen with Rahim without acknowledging Javan, a certain way to stop the gossip about whether Javan was a royal. After the coronation, the king could have a well-timed accident, and Rahim’s future would be secured.
“We must move quickly and carefully.” Fariq turned to look out his window at the golden sunshine pooling on the mosaic tiles of his personal courtyard. “With extra guards, it will be tricky, but the key is to make it look like an accident.”
“We can’t kill him immediately after he hired extra guards and told them he thinks you’re making a move against him and his son.” Rahim’s voice was cold as he slowly pulled his royal purple sash from around his waist. “The important thing is that I get the crown. I’ve promised him I’d reveal whatever it was Javan was supposed to show him at his mother’s grave at the coronation. Made a big deal about wanting it to be a moment that honored her in front of the entire kingdom. He bought it. The coronation is proceeding on schedule.”
“It’s still more than a week away!” Fariq tapped his fingers on the table impatiently. “As the poison continues to leave his system, his thoughts will be sharper. His logic clearer. And if he suspects me, he’ll come after me to protect you.”
“It’s what a loyal father would do for his son,” Rahim said as he moved to stand directly behind Fariq’s chair. “And, of course, it’s what a loyal son would do for his father.”
“What are you—”
Swiftly Rahim wrapped the sash around his father’s neck, twisted it tight, and pulled. Fariq clawed at his son’s hands, knocking the parchment and quill to the floor. Rahim dug his heels into the rug and held on. As his father’s struggles lessened, Rahim leaned down and let every ounce of bitter rage he’d nursed for seventeen years out of its cage.
“The important thing is that I get the crown. Not you. Not the father who left his son to rot in poverty and filth for years.” He twisted the sash tighter. “My new father believes me to be a loyal, honorable son worthy of being his successor. You’ve just helped me prove him right.”
Fariq’s body went limp, and Rahim slowly let go of the sash. And then he turned to find the king to report that someone loyal to the king had apparently uncovered Fariq’s treachery and put an end to it.
THIRTY-NINE
JAVAN LOST TRACK of the hours as he bent over the crate in the supply room on the fifteenth level, his agony pouring out of him in broken prayers to Yl’ Haliq, who had allowed all this.
The headmaster’s death.
The impostor taking Javan’s place.
Javan’s imprisonment.
The corruption in Akram.
Meeting Sajda.
Losing Tarek.