Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
T he night was deep and no sound called across the palace grounds except the soft coos of the caged night doves in the aviary, their soft trills so familiar that they helped slow the racing of my heart.
The day of the Unveiling was coming upon me too fast, and I couldn’t stand it.
It marked the beginning of the pageant, commencing the series of brawls and challenges which would provide one victor in the end.
But first I would have the veil stripped away from me, my face gifted to the suitors who would finally decide whether my beauty was worth the price they’d paid to compete.
Which was why I had to leave tonight. My final chance, my final hope.
Running made me feel like a coward, but I was down to my last option and the alternative didn’t bear thinking about. I couldn’t stay and see Kahn cut down the other suitors, claim me as his own, and force me to have his children.
Father was no longer present in his mind, and even though it pained me to leave him behind, what choice did I have? It was this or submit. And submission just wasn’t in my blood.
I lay in bed, counting stars through the window which was cracked open as usual to let the cooler night air in. Though it was never truly cool in Osaria. The desert was a beast that seemed to breathe fire into the wind, baking the city until the streets cracked.
For the past two nights, I’d feigned a cough, and Zira had brought me some scarab nettles to rub against my skin to create a rash.
The symptoms looked just like sand flu, an illness which was contagious and could spread easily from person to person.
After the doctor had brought me medicine, she had commanded all my waiting staff to wear a cloth over their faces when tending to me, a fact I’d been banking on to pull off the rest of my plan.
Magdor had insisted I was faking my illness to postpone the pageant, but when the doctor assured her the medicine would heal me within a couple of nights, she’d gloated to my face that my little performance would achieve nothing and she’d left me alone in my quarters since.
I released a hacking cough, loud enough for the guards to hear beyond my doors, putting on a good show before calling out for my attendants.
It was only a few minutes before Zira appeared with Jacinda in tow, their mouths and noses covered in cloth.
Jacinda had her dark hair wrapped in satin and they exchanged a glance before hurrying forward and making a fuss as they pretended to tend to me.
“Ready?” I hissed to Zira and she nodded, a glimmer in her eye.
“Are you sure about this, Your Highness?” Jacinda asked anxiously, tugging on the sleeve of her uniform. I had been nervous to ask for her assistance with this plan, but Zira had assured me she would keep her silence and help me. I was placing my faith in her now, and I prayed I could trust her.
“Yes, but you must drink this. All of it, Jacinda,” I urged, picking up the sleeping draft the doctor had left for me with my medicine and handing it to her. “As much as you can bear. It must seem like I drugged you, like I tricked you into drinking it.”
She nodded quickly, taking the draft and pouring it out into a glass beside my bed before starting to gulp it down. My heart twisted at the risk she was taking for me and I hated her to do it, but Magdor had always thought of me as conniving, I was sure she’d believe me capable of this.
“Oh it…works quite quickly, doesn’t it?” Jacinda slurred, drooping forward and slumping onto the bed.
“Come on, you have to get out of those clothes,” Zira urged her, starting to tug at her uniform and together we helped Jacinda undress.
“Such soft skin you have, Your Highness. Like peacock feathers dipped in silk on a sweet, midsummer’s day,” she slurred, unable to resist a final compliment to me even as the draft stole her away.
I pulled off my nightdress, tugging it onto Jacinda’s body before dressing in her clothes. She was asleep already as we pushed her into the bed and drew the covers up over her head.
Zira exchanged a loaded look with me, a thousand worries dancing in her gaze.
“Don’t,” I said firmly before she could voice any doubts, any words that might remind me of how foolish this plan could be. How perilous if it went wrong. “I must leave, Zira. I can’t stay.”
She swallowed, stepping closer and squeezing my arm. “I know. And I believe it will work,” she whispered. “My cousin is waiting for us to the eastern border of the city. I just want you to know, I wish to stay with you.”
“It’s not safe,” I said, shaking my head, knowing that if I was caught out there with her at my side, she’d be tortured and killed for this. At least if she stayed here, she could assure the guards I had threatened her. I was the princess after all, she was bound by law to do as I told her.
“No more crazy talk.” I wrapped the cloth around my mouth and nose, and Zira bowed her head with a look of sadness before hurrying to tie my hair up in the satin Jacinda had been wearing, hiding every silver strand of it.
There would only be torches alight in the palace and not everywhere, so the light would be low.
I’d be concealed well enough, especially if I kept my head down.
I looked around my room for a moment, trying to hold onto the good memories I’d once had within it, not the bad. But it was hard when Magdor seemed to invade every corner, tainting the sweetness I’d once held here.
Zira took my hand, squeezing and giving me a reassuring look as she adjusted the cloth over the lower half of her face. “Ready?”
“Yes,” I said, pressing my shoulders back. “Let’s go.”
She led the way to the door, pushing it wide and I stepped out after her without faltering, keeping in her shadow as the guards glanced our way. For two whole seconds, I failed to breathe, then they looked back at the wall opposite them, acting as though we weren’t here.
We reached the end of the corridor and Zira pulled a tapestry aside, slipping into a secret stairway which was part of the servants’ passages.
I knew where to find every one of these.
I’d played in them as a child, back when this palace had held nothing but secrets and adventure.
A lick of that tantalising adrenaline ran up my spine again now as I followed Zira down the stairway, the cool walls hugging close on either side of us.
I felt like a little girl, finding her way through the dark, and I realised how long it had been since I’d experienced any kind of excitement.
My flesh was aching for it, my heart pounding in anticipation of more adrenaline, more danger.
The torches down here were few and far between, the flickering flames casting a deep orange glow in segments of the passages, only to leave us in darkness once more.
Zira moved easily through the passages, knowing every turn by heart just as I did.
I felt us reach the outer walls of the palace in the way the air chilled a little and the scent of flowers carried from the gardens.
Our gardeners worked full time watering it daily, keeping the flowers blooming and the grass growing.
It was wasteful, yet it was impossible to ignore how beautiful it was.
The river itself ran right through the heart of the grounds, weaving out into the city through a thick iron gate which ran deeper than the riverbed.
I turned my head and looked north towards the distant, lone mountain called Aguan, a place steeped in magical history. There was a fable about it which said a Prophet king had once lived atop it in a palace made of starlight.
The story went that he was in love with the goddess of the moon, Sirella. He used every kuru in the kingdom to build himself a beautiful observatory to watch the celestial body in the sky night after night, always pining for her, though the moon never looked his way.
But one day, there was a terrible drought, and the people of his kingdom began to suffer and die. The king hoarded the last of the water in his palace, locking the doors to keep them out and building a silver cage around the well in his courtyard which only he had the key to.
Day after day passed, but the rains never came. The king tried all he could, every spell he knew, every wish and curse and jinx. But nothing would bring the water back. So he turned to his true love and begged the moon for help, asking Sirella to send the rain and in return she could have his soul.
The moon was quiet for so long that the king believed the goddess had scorned him, that she was the one who had taken the rain away because she was tired of him watching her.
So he promised never to look again, he vowed with all he was that he would never look her way if only she would send the rain to him.
But the moon was quiet as always and still the rain didn’t come.
The king demanded the last of his people were brought to his palace, his doors opened for the first time since the drought began.
The city folk believed they were saved, that the king would share the water from his well and when he brought them to the courtyard, they praised him as he opened the door to the silver cage to let them in.
One by one, the people walked inside, hunting for the water they so desperately needed.
But when they pulled up the bucket from the well, they found it dry.
They turned to the Prophet king for answers, and it came in the form of death, a wicked spell cast from his lips which slit open their throats and let their blood flow into his well.
And when the last of them lay dead, he took a chalice from his robes and filled it with their blood, quenching his thirst with the blood of his people.