9. NINE #3
Mother and Fareena follow, ethereal and radiating strength. The moon and the sun, existing together in a singular blinding moment. They position themselves at the top of the stairs, hands woven together in unity, as Mother addresses the crowd—her last as queen.
“Brothers. Sisters. Blood and heart of Kalisham,” her voice echoes, the wind she summoned carrying it to the farthest set of ears.
“I have known no greater honor than serving you as queen for so many years. Your wisdom and creativity have been my pride and joy. I am confident that we will only grow more under the leadership of another.”
The crowd roars: a deafening sound cut silent the moment the queen raises her hand.
Excitement and anticipation saturate the air.
Mother nods at a young girl hovering behind the pillar to come forward.
She delicately balances a crystal goblet filled with a vintage wine that’s bottled specially for the ceremony of succession.
Her hands are steady beyond her years as she takes her place behind Mother. The moonlight illuminates the glass, chasing the shadows from the girl’s face.
Odd—the same face that attended to Fareena in the baths. It is uncommon for an attendant to hold multiple positions, at least not on the same day, and certainly not one as important as this.
But every minute detail of the ceremony was overseen and double-checked by several people, including the queen herself. She must be a sister to the nervous girl from the baths. I force my gaze back to my family and push down a wave of butterflies.
Mother finishes addressing the crowd, then takes Fareena’s hands. “Fareena Rehana Ardeshir. Do you promise to lead Kalisham with patience, humility, and grace, always placing the needs of the people above your own?”
Fareena lifts her chin a fraction of an inch. “I swear to fulfill my duties as surely as the sun rises each morning.”
My eyelashes flutter, letting the desert air dry any tears before they can fall.
I glance at my family. They mirror my misty eyes and profound pride.
We all stand a little taller as Mother whispers a blessing over the goblet and takes a sip, signaling the end of her reign.
Mother hands Fareena the wine, and she takes a long drink.
The crowd erupts, shouts of joy mingling with music and cheers, as Mother takes her place among the advisers. Garsif claps wildly, forgetting his job to be solemn and still. No one will fault him, though. His unabashed smile expresses what we all feel.
I close my eyes, committing the day’s events to memory.
The laughter, hugs, teasing, and tears. Every moment a painting I archive in my mind.
Our dynamic will change now, but I will learn to love the change as much as I love my family.
No matter what happens, at least we have each other, even when our time together grows scarce with responsibility.
I open my eyes just as Fareena passes the cup to the bearer and raises her arms to the full moon, waiting for the crowd’s cries to soften.
Her lips move quickly, unleashing a small prayer for our nation and her new reign, inaudible against the cheers.
The light plays with the golden strands of her dress, giving her a dream-like beauty. I blink again to make sure she is real.
The final voices die down into a collective held breath, anxious to hear their new queen’s first words.
“Brothers. Sisters. Blood and heart of Kalisham.” She echoes the same greeting Mother used, pausing as she makes the wind carry her voice to the farthest set of ears.
Her eyes go wide, and I wait for her to start the speech I’ve already heard a thousand times during her relentless practice runs.
Perfectionism will serve her well as queen but is a form of torture for the rest of us.
She remains silent. A crease forms in her brow as she casts a glance at Mother.
Fareena Ardeshir does not get nervous.
The butterflies in my stomach swarm violently. Something is wrong.
Instinct pulls me forward. I race up the stairs to where Fareena suddenly stumbles down a step, slipping on the loose petals. She falls forward into my arms, revealing a crimson rose blooming from the middle of her shoulder blades.
My heart ceases beating; my breath catches in my throat as my gaze rises to the dagger dripping with blood and the girl who wields it.
I press a shaking hand to the wound on Fareena’s back as guards rush behind me to secure the rest of my family. They scream, sorrow ringing in the air like an out-of-tune flute. I swallow the bile creeping into my throat and force a deep breath through my nose.
Fareena’s mouth opens and shuts as blood dribbles from her lips, drowning any words. She slumps against the ground, her eyes focused on the distance.
“Fareena!” I repeat her name, begging her spirit to stay, but the blood on my hands is too little. The girl struck true, aiming the blade down to fill Fareena’s chest with her own blood to drown in.
An assassin’s strike. A shadow’s strike.
My hands move to her wrist, then neck, but no pulse calls to me. “Please, no.”
I pull her into my chest and bury my face in her hair. The tang of copper mixed with jasmine burns my nose. A scream lodges in my throat. Rage unlike anything I’ve felt filters into every nerve, thick and hot.
My gaze rises to the young woman. Her cold eyes assess Fareena with muted interest. The guard disarms her and presses a thick curved sword against her throat. She makes no effort to move or fight as she watches my sister, my heart, die.
I lay Fareena down and close her eyes. Kissing her cool cheek, I curl my fingers around the discarded dagger in front of me. I rise to my feet slowly, every muscle tense with unbearable grief.
The assassin tilts her head, almost bored as she watches me stalk closer. “Murderer,” I hiss.
My rage carries me forward until the dagger plunges into her chest. I twist the blade; warm blood runs down my hands.
My grip never wavers as I thrust again and again.
Bone crunches on impact. The guard releases her body, stumbling backward to avoid the blade as it protrudes from the assassin’s back.
“Mina!” My name cuts through my haze of anger. I spin around, dagger in hand, ready to defend the rest of my family. I freeze as I struggle to understand what I’m seeing.
The line of advisers is gone, most of them lying on the steps at odd angles. Red soaks down the sleeves of their white robes. One of the guards meant to protect them is slumped over the group, held up only by the long sword jutting from their torso.
My family.
Another surge of bile threatens as I take in the carnage. The polished white stone leading to the palace always reflects light warmly. A welcoming road to my home, now transformed into a river of blood.
My gaze tears across the guards fighting one another, their blades clashing every few feet on the steps. A man falls with a sword through his horrified expression.
Astrella stumbles before a guard, clutching her ribs with one hand and driving a stolen sword through her attacker. Another blade sweeps out at her from behind, taking her to the ground.
Father’s body slumps over Garsif’s, whose tiny arm sticks out awkwardly, unmoving as the rest of them.
My rage gives way to shock. Time slows, freezing my limbs in place. I hear my name again, loud and clear over the battle—Mother.
I search for her until a tall man catches my attention. Blood dots his cheeks, a stark contrast to the obsidian dagger he holds against Mother’s throat. Tears stream down her cheeks, and for the first time in my life, she seems her age.
“Mina. Run.” She wills the winds to bring her words to me. They are as clear as if she whispered them into my ear. “Stay alive. I love you.”
“Mother!” I scream, frozen in place. With a wicked grin, Zala rears back and plunges the dagger into her chest. Mother doesn’t scream; instead, her lips tremble as a blanket of crimson soaks the front of her dress.
The air changes, heavy with electricity. Storm clouds form above, blotting out the moon’s light. Mother summons raging rain and wind, adding to the chaos.
Zala motions in my direction, and the guards closest to him advance. A scarred light brown arm wraps around my torso, yanking me backward. My response is sluggish, but still, I strike out with the blade, trying to catch my attacker off guard. Their hand catches my wrist, prying the dagger free.
“Mina, come!” The grip tightens, dragging me along the far wall of the palace entrance and through the doors.
Another guard slams them shut and holds them with his body as we retreat.
The thick wood shudders with each impact.
Other guards join him, digging their heels in to keep the door sealed against the traitors outside.
I thrash against the arm clamped around my midsection and aim my elbow at their neck. “Please, Mina, stop fighting.” The person spins me around to face her. Even though I know it is Brijita, Mother’s personal guard, I can’t be sure—the steps—the guards—it is everyone.
“How can I trust you?!” I shout as she drags me down a dark corridor, a secret access reserved for my family. We never had much use for it until now.
Brijita taught me how to first use a sword. She let me follow her around in papier–maché armor. She is family in spirit. I pray the betrayal does not extend to her as well.
She stops for a moment, pulling our faces together until our foreheads touch. “If I wanted you dead, you would be already. Queen Estere gave me one final command. To get you out and to keep you safe. Do not make me a breaker of my oath, Mina.”
“I can’t leave them behind. I won’t. We have to go back.” I grip her leather breastplate and choke back a sob. Unshed tears sting my eyes. I have to save them. “We have to fight.”
“They are gone. Going back now would be the death of us both. You must listen to the queen’s orders. Now come.”