Chapter 25 #2
Then she thinks about the entourage of women beneath the kasbah, how strange it was that some of them bore injuries when there were healers like Hind among them. Almost like someone ordered them not to be healed.
That could be Khawla, Shay thinks.
Before her mind can add imagery to the thought, she remembers everything Shadi said about evil being defeated when good people band together. She clings to the words until they seep into her veins, pour into her heart, and start filling all the cracks where it's broken.
No matter what Hind says, Shay knows what she must do.
Hind and Shadi awaken at the approach of yipping and barking.
Shay stumbles out of the cave, with Shadi not far behind, to see what's happening.
The bone-eaters have arrived in the form of seven hyenas.
They weave through pines and cedars toward the cave, pulling a sled, each with one of seven long straps held tightly between their strong jaws.
Hind's protests seem mostly perfunctory, and she ultimately allows herself to be strapped to the sled and carried the remainder of the way to Ard Al-Ghul.
Shay and Shadi jog to keep up with the creatures as the trees blur into blue and black stripes at their sides.
They emerge upon the clay road that leads into Ard Al-Ghul, the pounding of their slippers making eddies of red dust around their ankles.
Leaving them in front of the cottage, the hyenas trot, tongues lolling out and panting, back to the forest—where Shay presumes they will transform back into their primary form.
“I'm going to talk to Khawla's parents,” Shadi says, and Shay's heart aches at the thought of their happy little family, the one she was so jealous of, torn apart because of her. “Then I'll report to the Morchidat, bring her word that Walid is well.”
Shay stops herself from reaching out and squeezing his hand, not sure whether she'd be doing so to comfort him or herself. “Tell Khawla's parents I'm sorry.”
“We'll figure this out.” He reaches for her hand instead, his thumb soothing a circle inside her wrist. She thinks then that maybe there's no difference, only the mutual solace to be found in comforting each other.
“Tell the Morchidat I'm ready. I'll talk to Hind when she's rested, find out all I can about the hjabats and anything about the kasbah's layout and activities that might assist with Khawla's rescue. I want to officially join the Sisterhood.”
“What about your mother's care?” he asks, his face gentle.
“She is my priority. But I'll find a way to make it work. Balancing multiple roles is what women have always done. If there is anything I can do to help Khawla, I must.”
“I'll talk to her if you're sure, but you must not take the decision lightly.” He tenderly releases her hand, glancing up at the moon as though in search of divine counsel.
“My mother … she will ask for proof of your loyalty.
Some sort of test or sacrifice. Whatever it is, it won't be an easy thing.”
“I understand.” Shay's gaze drops to his lips. She has the strangest impulse to seal her decision, to kiss away the uncertainty that lingers on his face.
“Hello!” Hind moans loudly from the sled. “Do you intend to leave me strapped here all night?”
“I'll return soon.” As if he read her intention, Shadi leans toward her, his warm lips brushing her cheek, exquisitely soft, and all too brief. But enough for now.
Shay half carries Hind down the path to the brothers’ door, where she stops and faces her mother. Fading moonlight strikes silver in her hair. But at least the sled ride doesn't seem to have made her condition any worse. “I want you to empty your pockets.”
Hind shakes her head wearily. “I took the last of my Snow back at the kasbah.”
Shay hardens her voice. “I don't believe you.”
“Search me, then.” The touched one tips her chin, a dare that Shay obliges.
She pats her palms over Hind's clothes, feeling for bumps or bulges, and reaches into her pockets. There, she finds a string of wooden remembrance beads, a few luneers, and bits of lint. “Unlace your boots.”
“Seriously?” Hind groans, putting a hand to the doorframe for support. “I'm weak, bnti. It's been a long journey. I need to lie down.”
“Unlace your boots,” Shay repeats.
Pouting, Hind undoes the laces. Shay slips her fingers inside and digs around until she finds the vial. Wordlessly, she pours the amber liquid out into the tangled grass while Hind hovers nearby, making soft sobbing sounds that arouse little sympathy.
If Hind doesn't care enough, isn't strong enough, to make good decisions, Shay will do the caring. Shay can be strong. Ghita taught her many useful things, but the lesson she liked least may prove most useful now. Love isn't necessarily kind and soft. Sometimes, love is firm and unsympathetic.
Maybe that's the kind of love that can save her mother.
The sky beyond the lopsided cottage has gone from black to blue, starlight fading like melting snow. Morning draws near, bringing no warmth with it, only the cold wash of clarity. No bright spread of buttery hope. Only hard-boiled conviction.
For now, this too must be enough.