23 - Rohan
R ohan was certain the Sultana would wait until morning before granting them an audience, but she whisked them away at once. He was still wary of her after how quickly she’d arrived at the dungeons, and with her royal vizier, too. Rohan had thought, at first, that it was because of Iago’s impersonation of her, but it couldn’t be.
Something was amiss, but all Rohan saw was the attention she’d given Jafar, like a doting mother who suddenly forgot that she had two sons. She’s not your mother, Rohan told himself. It was the late hour, he decided, toying with his mind.
The Sultana marched through the halls in relative darkness, Harun following behind her, enveloping Jafar and Rohan in flickering light. She led them to a wing of the palace they’d never been to before and pushed open a pair of doors to a receiving chamber with ease. It was a majlis, with low seats wrapped in brushed bronze, plush and inviting, centered in the room with little else of note.
She sat first, her legs crossed, her gown a river of pale pink silk around her. The lantern flickered, catching the strands of gray running through her hair.
Rohan carefully sat to her right, Jafar to her left. She summoned a servant with a bowl of water, and watched as Jafar scrubbed at his hands without a hint of disgust on his face—or hers. The royal vizier, on the other hand, had enough for both of them, revulsion twisting his features into something sour.
Rohan was starting to wish he hadn’t spoken so brazenly outside the dungeons. He was surprised he could even speak for the way his teeth wouldn’t stop chattering. Another servant brought in a tray with food and drink, setting it on the low table between them. Rohan could barely look at it.
Were they going to be punished for sneaking around the palace? Did she know the two of them had found the dungeons? And why were they awake and alert at midnight—almost as though they’d been waiting for this moment?
“Drink,” the Sultana said, nodding at the tray and the little handleless cups on it.
They were glass, the liquid inside amber and fragrant. Cardamom tea. Rohan didn’t need to be told twice. He gulped it down, even as the glass burned his fingers and the tea scorched a path through his throat.
He stopped shaking.
His head cleared.
The majlis cushions were palatial beneath them, embroidered in tiny flowers of vermillion and white, fine vines intersecting one another. The intricacy of the seating was contrasted by the minimalist beauty of the floor. Wide tiles in creamy onyx cascaded to plain walls accented by simple wood carvings hung at intervals. He set his empty glass on the ebony table beside a still untouched plate of those buttery ghorayeba cookies with perfectly centered pistachios.
“Now, what is it you wish to tell me?” she asked.
She looked to Jafar, even though it was Rohan who had prompted this meeting, Rohan whose idea it had been to put two alchemical texts together and create what they had created.
Rohan heard Jafar’s inhale, the teetering pause as he gathered his words.
But if it was Rohan’s idea to combine the spells and Rohan who had found the prisoner to begin with, had Jafar really discovered the secret to papermaking? Was it Jafar who had unearthed the Maghrizi kingdom’s salvation?
Rohan didn’t think so.
“We explored the palace,” he said before Jafar could speak.
The Sultana looked to him at last.
As did Jafar. His gaze was heavier than an anvil. This would be easier if Jafar didn’t look at him. Jafar hadn’t cared when that man was vomiting blood. Rohan needed to be just as uncaring.
“First, I saw an attendant taking food to the dungeons,” Rohan continued, “and later, I found the iron door.”
Beside him, Jafar tensed when Rohan shifted from we to I . Just as Jafar had when he’d lied to Rohan and brought him all this way.
“I found your Maghrizi prisoner,” he continued. Iago made a sound. Rohan ignored him, because he wanted to say more. You tortured the prisoner. You hurt your own people. You’re not worried about war, you’re greedy.
But weren’t they all?
Rohan took a deep breath. “And then, I found your secret.”