Chapter 44
Dear Amma,
I don’t understand how the Empress can do what she does, how the Citadel can to what they do, how they can turn away from the suffering they caused our people. But I suppose the answer is this: they don’t see us as people.
—Letter from Yaseema Nazir to Mahira Nazir, written in Mahira Nazir’s journal
Yaseema
“You gave away your position for her?”
The voice was familiar, but I couldn’t place it. The woman was livid though, her shout echoing around me.
An angry response was given, the words low and biting—that voice I knew. I felt it on my skin, in my chest, as if it were a part of my own consciousness.
Kiyan.
As soon as I thought of him, waves of memories came back to me—the kiss, the soldiers in the forest, the Viceroy breaking my legs.
But when I brought awareness back to my body, I realized I wasn’t in agony like I had been with the Viceroy. Instead, my entire body was numb, the sensation dull.
There was pain there still, but it was much less than I expected. I groaned, attempting to move my legs, but they were bound to something.
“Shhhh,” a soft female voice whispered in my ear, different from the other two. “Rest now.”
But as calming as the voice was, panic rose in my chest at being tied up. If I was tied somewhere, the Viceroy could get to me again. I thrashed, pushing against my restraints, my vision still black and blurred.
“Help me with her,” that same voice called.
“You’re safe,” Kiyan whispered in my ear. “You’re safe.”
He stroked my arm, whispering the words over and over again. Eventually I slipped back into darkness, the feeling of his fingertips still brushing against my skin.
I woke again, and this time light filtered through my room.
No, not a room, but a tent.
I sat up, but it was too quick and sent my head spinning.
“Careful, you shouldn’t move that fast, not with everything in your system. I’ve had to heal your bones after the Viceroy broke them. It wasn’t an easy feat and I had to dose you with multiple potions to assist our life magic.”
I glanced between my fingers to see a woman a little older than me standing beside my bed. She had long light brown hair that curled at the ends and fell at her waist. Her face was kind and patient. I’d never seen her before, but her expression set me at ease immediately.
I lifted my hand to see I was in a large tent, less grand than the tents when we’d traveled with the Viceroy, but still fairly substantial. I wondered if the same magic of twigs and leaves created this.
It was homey, with a plush plum-colored embroidered rug and a small desk scattered with papers and books, as well as a pot of steeping tea set on it. I swallowed, realizing how parched I was, how raw my throat had become from all my screaming.
Screaming when the Viceroy had tortured me.
Tears began to burn at the corner of my eyes, and a sense of panic took hold of me once more.
“Where am I?” I croaked, trying to tamp down the rising anxiety in my chest.
I cast my mind back to what I could remember. The last thing I recalled was being in the forest, nearly at the River, with the crown in my skirts.
The Viceroy discovering me. Torturing Ramishah.
My bones snapping, the empty expression in his eyes.
I shuddered, my gaze flicking back to the woman beside my bed and then down at my legs. I managed to push myself up on my elbows and lifted the smooth cotton sheet that was covering me.
My legs were wrapped in some sort of brace made of tree branches and strips of cloth. A thick yellow paste that smelled of turmeric was slathered over them.
“It wasn’t easy to repair so many broken bones, especially ones broken by the Viceroy’s magic.” Her voice was kind, but I still clutched the bedsheet in my hands, trying to still my shaking. The memory of the burning pain in my legs flashed through me.
“You didn’t answer my question,” I gritted out, hysteria causing my voice to raise higher. I wasn’t in the dungeons, nor in my room in the palace. But that didn’t mean the Viceroy wasn’t nearby.
The brightness in her eyes dimmed slightly, and she busied herself with mixing more of the yellowed paste beside me. “You’re in a secret camp, the Viceroy won’t find you here.”
I shook my head, not understanding. How could I be in a camp where the Viceroy couldn’t find me when I’d just been with him? “What sort of camp?”
“The sort where rebels hide.” A voice from behind the girl sounded—his voice. “The sort where the rebellion is planned and schemed.”
Kiyan stood at the entrance of the tent, his eyes rimmed with dark circles, his normally precise pearlescent hair mussed and sticking out at odd angles. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week.
“You’re awake,” he said, stepping farther into the tent. The girl who had been tending to my legs nodded at him, before giving me a bright smile and disappearing through the flap of the door. I nearly called her back, needing some buffer between Kiyan and me.
I released a low breath, both relieved to see him and wary of him.
He worked for the Viceroy, the same man who had just tortured me and set my bones on fire. But he also hunted rebels for him. He’d told Mishah to befriend me, all so he could spy on what I was doing.
“And is this where you help plan the rebellion too?”
He inclined his head.
“You are a rebel, then.” Something released in my chest, a certainty that was always there. Of course he was. Mishah worked for him, another rebel.
“Yes.”
“I suspected you weren’t all you seemed. I thought you were sympathetic to them. But you hunted them. You killed them. How can you be one of them and do all that?”
“Most I save. Many I prevent further torture to by giving them release. But mainly we needed someone on the inside, close to Reza, whom he trusted.”
I shook my head. “I don’t understand. What are we doing here, then?
Why aren’t you back at the palace?” I had the shame to look away from his gaze, knowing I had been caught running away with the thing he wanted most. I licked my lips, a metallic tang hitting my tongue when I realized they were cracked and bleeding. “Why am I not in the dungeon?”
Kiyan’s mouth pressed into a firm line, a muscle ticking in his jaw. He uncrossed his arms and rubbed the corner of his chin that was rough with stubble. “Reza was torturing you. He might have killed you.” Kiyan hesitated, weighing his words. “I couldn’t allow that to happen.”
I gaped at him. “You rescued me?”
“Don’t seem so shocked.” He gave me a wry smile.
He raked a hand through his hair, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “I had to do something. I couldn’t . . .” He broke away, looking pointedly to the corner of the tent. “I couldn’t hear your screams anymore. I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.”
My chest swelled, but at the same time a dread seeped into my bones. “You were pretending to work for the Viceroy in order to save your people.” It wasn’t a question, and I wondered why it took me so long to realize it. “And you compromised all that to save me. You shouldn’t have.”
“If you think I had any choice in the matter, you have little comprehension of who you chose to get involved with. Yes, I worked for the Viceroy and pretended to be loyal to him. It was partially to prevent the capture of innocent and rebel soldiers and also to find Queen Azari’s crown and restore the royal family by lifting the curse.
Once King Rusul’s crown is destroyed, this .
. . suffocation of our magic will end and we will be able to fight the Court of Salt.
We’ll be able to bring Reza to his knees.
” His mouth twisted bitterly. “Except he has Queen Azari’s crown now. ”
“He won’t be able to find the door to the palace,” I said suddenly. “Not without me.”
Kiyan nodded. “We are counting on that right now. But he will still try and use the combined crowns to level Tirich Mir.”
There was an air between us, even though he’d saved me. He wasn’t quite meeting my eyes, and there was a stiffness in his shoulders.
He was angry.
I blinked, and suddenly it swept over me why.
He knew I had taken the crown.
His only hope of possibly getting his family back. I had stolen it, hidden it. I had kissed him and then left him behind. I wanted to sink into the bed, my guilt weighing me down like roots pulling me toward the ground.
I swallowed thickly, knowing I needed to explain to him, but not sure I even had the words.
“Kiyan, I’m sorry.”
His eyes shot to mine, his face wary. “For what?”
“I took it. I took the crown. Reza would have never found it if I hadn’t tried to run with it.”
He stared at me, his gaze heavy, his jaw tight.
“I know it doesn’t count for much, but I tried to come back.” My voice was small and sounded so pitiful in comparison to what I’d almost done. But his eyes widened. It did mean something to him.
“Why did you come back?” His words were low, and I knew the answer to this question was important to him.
It was important to me too.
“My father was a rebel, did I ever tell you?”
He jerked at my words, shaking his head.
I nodded, continuing, “He defied the Citadel—the ruling body that works for the Empress, the power that took over our Kingdom. He organized attacks, protests, violent resistance. And he was killed for it.”
I’d never really said these words out loud, had never really properly told anyone.