Chapter 7
Everything hurt.
My face was pressed into burning hot sand, the brutal sun scorched the back of my neck, and blood streamed down my shoulder so I grew more lightheaded by the moment.
I coughed, immediately inhaling tiny granules of sand that stuck in my throat and intensified the coughing.
When my eyes opened, I saw a long stream of sandal-clad feet striding past in a street ahead, everyone in a hurry to rush by the bleeding girl face-down in the scalding, gritty sand of an abandoned alley.
Where was Rahil? Where was I?
Nothing looked familiar. This was nothing like Brisden, but at least Rahil wasn’t still looming over me with a knife.
I tried to move and immediately cried out in pain. My blood continued to stain the sand a deep scarlet that faded to a light brown as the sun baked everything in sight.
Nadia.
I had to stop her from going to see Rahil.
My left arm wasn’t working properly, but I managed to roll and fumble for the mirror in my pocket. I clumsily turned it over three times, and the glass fogged slower than normal.
“Nadia,” I groaned. “Nadia, can you hear me?”
The fuzzy image of Nadia’s profile filled the mirror, but the image was distorted and grainy.
“Alia?” Her voice was garbled too.
“S-stay away from Rahil,” I choked out, the pain so excruciating I was blinded by it. My head felt like it was heavier than a camel. “D-don’t go to him.”
“What—” Nadia’s voice cracked and her image flickered. “Is that blood?”
“Stay…stay away,” I panted. “He—he tried to k-kill me.” Every word was costing me dearly. “S-stay safe. Hide.”
“Where are—” Nadia began, but then the mirror went blank.
I collapsed back down, too weak to even return the mirror to my pocket. I could only hope that she knew to stay away. Please, Nadia, stay away.
“Help,” I croaked, trying and failing to sit up.
“Flames alive!” A woman larger than most men ran up and crouched beside me. “What happened to you, dearie?”
“Stabbed,” I panted, eyes fluttering from the pain. “I’ve b-been stabbed.”
“You’re coming with me,” she said. Despite the fact that she looked old enough to be my mother, she scooped me into her arms like I was a young child.
I didn’t have the energy to help her bear up my weight.
The only sensations I was aware of were the scorching heat, the blinding pain, and the eerie feeling of blood trickling down my arm and dampening my clothing.
“My mirror,” I gasped as it fell from my slackened grip. “I need it—”
There was a muffled cracking sound as the woman accidentally trod on it.
“Oh dear, I’m sorry,” she murmured. She bent down, careful to not jostle me too much, and shifted my weight so she could pick up the mirror and tuck it into my pocket for me.
“There; it’s only a very small crack, and I can get you a new one if you’d like.
But don’t worry about mirrors. We need to get you some help. ”
“Th-thank you,” I said with a groan. I was in too much pain to think straight.
The large woman wended her way through the crowd. “I’m Uberta, dear. What’s your name?”
“A-Alia.”
“I’m going to get you help, don’t you fret,” she told me in a kind, motherly way. “We’re nearly there. There are some healers nearby.”
“Where are we? What…what country is this?”
“Pyren, of course.”
Pyren? I thought back to the maps hung up in Rahil’s library.
Pyren was on the opposite end of the world, far beyond Rookwyn and Coronis, farther even than the Shadowed Mountains.
I squinted in the bright light. Everyone wore the same type of light, flowing, white and gold robes that shielded them from the scorching sun overhead.
Bright banners in crimson and gold emblazoned with a flaming phoenix fluttered from each tower top.
I really was on the other side of the world, just as I had wished. Was Rahil a secret sorcerer with magical powers? Had he somehow banished me so I wouldn’t touch his precious lamp?
The lamp.
That had to be at the heart of me being here. Did the lamp have some sort of magical ability to grant wishes? If so, it would logically follow that Rahil would fiercely protect such a valuable object, and it would also explain his fabulous wealth.
My eyelids grew heavier. The sun was too bright and all the unanswered questions were hurting my head.
“Halt right there!”
Uberta stopped. Through my half-closed eyelids, I could see a man in dark clothing approaching, flanked by two guards.
“She’s injured and needs help,” Uberta began. “Vizier, please—”
The man in the middle held up his hand. “Show me her arm.”
“See?” Uberta carefully moved me so my injury was more visible. “She says she was stabbed.”
“I don’t care about a little blood. Show me her wrist.” He reached out to grasp my injured arm and his eyes raked across my skin.
My wrist? I forced my eyes open. The man immediately made me think of a venomous cobra. He had cold, calculating eyes, hair black as midnight, and a dark goatee that was trimmed so meticulously that he must have used a slide rule to shave. He was looking at my wrist, eyes narrowed into slits.
I looked down and felt my mouth drop open. Some sort of tattoo had mysteriously appeared there. The man gently scrubbed at it, as if he expected the threads of the purplish-navy color to wash away like ink.
It didn’t.
Fighting to breathe through my pain, I lifted my head. The tattoo looked like wisps of smoke curled around my wrist like a strange bracelet. It was too artistic to be a bruise but had similar coloring to one. The man gently scraped his fingernail against it with no effect. Where had it come from?
“Vizier, she needs immediate medical attention,” Uberta protested. “I really must insist—”
“Guards, search the girl. Give me any rings, amulets, tokens, anything like that she may have.”
My wedding ring was stripped from me, as were my necklace and bracelet, followed by the vials of potions I had kept on me and my mirror, all handed to the cold-eyed man before I could work up the energy to object.
He greedily examined each one, holding them up to the light. “Interesting. Anything else?”
Hands reached for me again, but this time, Uberta pulled me away.
“Leave her be!” Uberta snapped. “You can’t just take her possessions without cause. She needs help or she’ll die!”
“Give her to the guards,” the man said. “She’s under arrest.”
Uberta drew back, horrified. “No! She’s hurt! Vizier, I really must object.”
“She’ll be given medical attention at the palace. She has crucial information we need.”
“N-no,” I panted. “There’s been some…some misunderstanding. I just—”
“Set her down,” the vizier ordered Uberta. “We’ll tend to her medical needs.”
Uberta reluctantly set me down and I immediately collapsed, too lightheaded and weak to stand.
“Seize her,” he ordered the men at his sides.
They pounced, latching onto my arms and hauling me to my feet so I screamed out in pain.
“See now!” Uberta thundered. “I’ll call for—”
“Who? Who will you call? I’m the authority here,” the man answered silkily, eyes narrowed.
“My son will hear about this! He’s a guard at the palace!”
“Then I shall thank him for his service. Off you go.” The man made a shooing motion with his hand. Uberta, still looking distressed, held her ground.
“I have your word you’ll see to her medical needs immediately?” she insisted.
“I give you my word as one of Parliament’s most esteemed viziers.
” He raised one eyebrow, just as neatly trimmed as his goatee.
“Her wound shall be tended to immediately, and every second you delay us in leaving is another second this woman must endure her pain before being tended to, so I suggest you leave now.”
Uberta set her jaw, then stepped back.
“Let’s go,” the vizier said to the guards.
Tears sprang to my eyes as I was shoved forward and my shoulder screamed in protest. “I don’t even know what I’m being arrested for,” I protested, but broke off with a gasp of pain.
With each footstep, my blood pumped harder and my arm, which had already been covered in rivulets of blood, became a solid stain of red. The world spun in slow, dizzying circles and the palace in the distance looked forever away. I staggered and collapsed again.
“Carry her,” the vizier snapped. “I need to get her into questioning immediately.”
One of the guards scooped me up. “She needs a blood-replenishing potion,” he said, a hint of concern in his voice. “You can’t question a dead person.”
The vizier sighed irritably, as if it were a major inconvenience to his plans for the day that I was bleeding out. “I’ll make her one in my study. Bring her along, quickly.”
“Do you think she’s a Termarthian spy?” the guard who was holding me asked. I could feel his voice rumbling in his chest cavity where my face was pressed against it.
“No, I don’t.” The vizier strode on without giving any additional information.
As he walked through the streets, people averted their eyes and scurried away so the crowd parted before us.
Chatter died and mothers hurried their children out of sight.
Even street vendors stopped calling to the crowd and began rearranging their goods with their backs turned.
I rolled my head. The vizier was striding through the crowd, his black robes much too hot for the overly warm weather as he marched ahead. All the townsfolk shielded their faces or clutched at talismans around their necks and whispered some chant under their breath as he passed.
Who was this man?
I wavered in and out of consciousness, and it became impossible to tell what was a dream and what was reality. What appeared to be a phoenix flew overhead, and blue flames flickered in braziers along the street. Everything appeared hazy and warped. Was it hallucinations from the heat?
“Would the Eternal Flame help her?” the guard striding along on the man’s other side asked, gesturing at the blue flames.
“No,” the cobra-like man answered curtly. “She isn’t Pyrenese, so it would make it worse, not better. I need her alive and conscious.”
My head rolled again. I tried to hold it up, but it would inevitably flop back down again. Nausea coursed through me, but I was too drained to do anything other than exist, second by second, barely clinging to life with each breath.
I had to survive.
I had to protect Nadia.
But beyond that, a new motivation was born. I wanted revenge on Rahil. If anyone was going to die, it ought to be my accursed, blue-bearded husband.