The Prince
A cloying medicinal scent overwhelmed me as I entered the healing chamber.
The window was shuttered, casting the room into darkness.
Smoke from burning incense billowed in soft plumes.
Candlelight revealed a woman sitting beside a small bed.
Her head was bent over a book as she recited the holy verses within, praying for the bed’s occupant.
I stepped closer to the healer, who was grinding something in his mortar.
He wore loose white robes and a turban. His back was to me, but I knew him well.
I’d aided him over the years in his research.
But despite our every effort, a cure for Delara’s ailment had never been found.
My sister was bundled beneath heavy covers, a shiver racking her and sweat coating her face.
I removed the cloth covering her brow and replaced it with a cool one.
I touched her cheek, my heart wrenching at the feverish heat of her skin.
“Day?” My name came out garbled. She caught my hand in her small one, her eyes struggling to open. “You came to see me.”
“Of course I did, jaanam.” My life.
She gave me a wobbly smile at the affectionate term. “Will I be better soon?”
I flinched and squeezed her hand. “Before you know it.”
“Omid was training with Zeki today,” she mumbled. “Without me.”
“He usually does so without you.”
She pouted. “But I always watch.”
“And you will, once your fever breaks. Fight, Del. Show this sickness your strength.”
She squeezed my hand in return, too tired to speak.
I set her arm beneath the cover and retreated as the healer neared.
He smeared an herbal-smelling green paste around her nose and mouth.
I watched him work. The woman’s soothing recitation and the cloudy incense created in me the urge to fall asleep—a sensation I hadn’t had in days.
The healer finished his task and moved to my side.
We watched as Delara’s breathing grew deep as slumber overtook her.
“We are running low on the medicine.” His gentle timbre broke me from my counting of her breaths.
“There should be a new shipment soon,” I replied. “Have you found anything, Ustaad Saf?”
“Nothing that works. This medicine is the only thing that seems to slow her illness, but it is not as effective as it once was.”
“Is there no hope, then?” The whisper came unbidden.
Ustaad Saf placed a hand on my shoulder. “I am afraid not, shahzadem. She worsens with every fever. They used to be months apart. Now they are mere weeks.”
“Keep searching,” I said.
Ustaad Saf retracted his hand, and though I didn’t look at him, I could feel his sorrowful stare. The door opened, and the swish of skirts neared.
“Shahzadeh Dayyan. No one in the palace knew where you disappeared to, but I should have known you would be here.”
I ducked my head in respect as my mother sank into a nearby seat.
“Malikeh Madar,” Ustaad Saf said, placing his palm over his chest.
My mother nodded and then waved him away with a dismissive flick. His assistant, the woman reciting the verses from our holy book, stood and followed him. The door closed, and my mother patted the chair beside her. I hesitated before sitting.
“Dayyan, you are too pale. You look like you haven’t slept in days,”
I ignored the worry in her eyes, motioning instead toward Delara. “I am astonished you even came here. I thought you didn’t mingle with Sanaz’s brood.”
She stiffened when I used the word she always did when speaking of my little siblings.
“Sanaz doesn’t even care for her children as you do.
She comes by once per day to receive a report on her daughter’s health.
But she knows there is no use, so all her hopes rest on her son.
Omid is the only thing keeping her in a position of power.
All have given up on Delara except for you.
You must expect it. It is only a matter of days before she—”
“Do not,” I ground out. “We will find a cure.”
“That is why you married the Southerner, isn’t it?”
My head shot toward her, and she nodded.
“You believe that the power of the golden roots will heal Delara. That is why you saved the girl.”
My thoughts hammered through my skull. I couldn’t deny that part of me hoped Farani would share the location of the roots and that they would aid Delara. But my purpose for saving her had no reason other than the very blood in my veins chanting at me to keep her alive.
“Is that what your spies are telling you?” I finally said. “If you came here to state their ramblings, I have no wish to hear it. Don’t you have enough harem affairs to keep you entertained?”
She reached out as if to touch me before thinking better of it. “I am here for you.”
I didn’t reply, but a muscle jumped in my jaw.
“Bachem, look at me.”
I turned to her with reluctance. My resolve to remain firm crumbled.
She was giving me the look. The one she used to weave her children into the tapestries she wished.
Her icy cerulean eyes were broken shards, a river of pain flowing forth.
Her mouth was thin and unsmiling. Her sheer veil concealed none of the gray hairs winding beneath it.
“I will not allow him to crush you, and neither will you. Until we find a way to stop him, you have no choice but to obey your father. These rebellious actions must stop.” She shook her head.
“You married our enemy, defied your father, humiliated your brother before the people. Do you know what they speak of in the halls and city?”
“I am sure you will tell me,” I said.
“They are beginning to label you a traitor, a Southern sympathizer. Word of mouth travels fast. Other rumors are spreading. Rumors of your parentage.”
“Those rumors are not new, are they, Madar?”
She flinched at my accusing tone. I mustered my courage and asked her the question that had been nagging at me for years.
“Are they true?”
I met her stare without flinching, daring her to lie to me. She held my gaze with tears welling in her eyes. “How could you ask me that? Which snake poisoned you against me?”
I leaned closer to her. “I want to know. The rumors sprouted somewhere. I deserve to know the truth.”
Her lips trembled.
“What is the reason I have been punished since childhood? What grudge does Shah Jihangir hold against me?”
“You are his eldest son. As the eldest, you bear the heaviest responsibility.”
I shook my head. “The heir should carry that. Yet Bahir has been spoiled and pampered since he uttered his first word. There is something more.” I paused. “I learned what my father did.”
Her gaze sharpened, and her fingers clasped the arm of her chair so tight they whitened.
“The dream he had of Bahir that he proclaimed to be from the divine, the one the jadugar interpreted that I was to be passed in succession, was all a falsehood. Shah Jihangir paid the jadugar to perform the ceremony. Bahir was never meant to be heir. It was a li—”
My mother covered my mouth, silencing me. Her hand shook. “Where did you hear that?”
“You are not the only one with eyes in the palace, Malikeh Madar.”
She dropped her hand. “Dayyan, Bahir is your brother. Do not ruin him because of the gossip you’ve heard. Do not listen to those who speak this nonsense. Not of the dream or of your parentage.”
“Whatever it is that you are hiding from me, know that I will find the truth,” I said, shoving to my feet. “If you do not tell me, it will just take longer until it’s exposed.” I moved toward the door, glancing back at her. “And I will not harm my siblings. Any of them.”
I stepped out, inhaling the corridor air in a quick breath as I exited the cloistered healing room. The guard in the distance looked down, bowing his head as I swept past him. At the sound of pounding footsteps, I slowed to a halt. Zeki appeared by my side, gasping for air.
“I thought I wouldn’t catch you.”
“Is there an urgent matter?”
He shook his head. “You are a difficult man to get ahold of, Shahzadeh Dayyan. You keep disappearing, which does not bode well, as I am your bodyguard.”
Zeki’s hair was groomed back, and his beard was neatly trimmed. His robes looked new, navy blue with brown buckles tightened across his chest.
“Is there a festivity I am unaware of?”
Zeki glanced behind us, running a hand through the slick black strands of his hair. He turned back to me. “Huh? No, no, there is no festivity.”
I waved at his apparel. “What is the reason for all of this?”
“A spy must look his best.”
“I thought you were my bodyguard.” I couldn’t help the teasing jab as I started forward again.
“It seems my assignment requires plenty of different occupations.”
He walked with me but glanced back again, a wide smile cutting across his face.
I turned, spotting a woman in the distance.
She was leaning down, her nose brushing the petals of a flower.
I recognized the small smile on her face, the features as familiar to me as my own.
Bazmara slipped the flower into her belt and disappeared down the opposite side of the hall.
I crashed to a halt, turning a hard stare onto Zeki.
My heart pounded in my chest as concern washed through me.
“Zeki,” I ground out. “Do you want to die?”
He cleared his throat. “Can I know the crime I have committed before you do so?”
“You . . .” The words I wanted to say turned to ash on my tongue. “What are you so pleased about?”
He froze before exploding into laughter—a rich sound I had grown to miss during our time on the battlefield. Joy was an emotion scarce during the war.
“I brought you your daily report and was anticipating your reaction,” Zeki said.
I stared at him, gauging his expression. He still wore a bedeviled grin, looking far too innocent. I calmed myself. Perhaps I was imagining things. My sleep deprivation was getting the best of me.
“What reaction?”
“Oh, only your great interest in the harem.”
“I do not know what you are insinuating. Get on with the report.”
Zeki started droning on about the palace inhabitants and their activities.
Wazir Elmas had joined my father and caused a stir in the council by questioning my authority since the recent incidents.
Bahir hadn’t been seen leaving his room, though many jawahar had come and gone, most rushing out in a crying fit.
He was back to his spoiled antics when he didn’t have his way.
Zeki gave me a report on the wazir’s spy, Javed, as well as my mother’s.
I sighed. It was nothing I hadn’t expected.
“There was some commotion in Banu Atefeh’s class.”
Zeki paused, and I looked at him, seeing a telling gleam in his eyes that couldn’t mean anything good. I grunted. “What does that matter to me?”
“Your wife joined the class.”
I forced myself to continue walking the corridor, ignoring the urge to stop and shake Zeki until he revealed what had happened. By his pleased tone, he sensed my agitation and was reveling in it.
“One of the jawahar struck another.”
I grunted again.
“Will you not ask who?”
I didn’t reply. Zeki clapped his hands together.
“Well, I am not exactly sure, but I do know your princess was unharmed. Though I heard of another scuffle a few days ago. They cornered the shahdokht and, according to the whispers, attempted to assault her.”
My boots scuffed over the stone. I swiveled, giving him my murderous look. “Who?”
He held his hands up. “Hold there, Shahzadeh. Don’t stab me. I am just the messenger.”
“Zeki, you are testing my patience.”
“Fine, fine. According to my sources, the jawahar were unsuccessful. Your wife emerged unscathed and . . . even placed a knife to one of their throats.”
I walked forward again, fighting the smile pulling at my lips.
“Aha!” Zeki caught up to me, walking backward as he pointed at my face. “You smiled.”
“I did not.”
“Do not deny it. Your lips twitched.”
“You should visit Ustaad Saf,” I shot back. “He has plenty of treatments for the loss of sight.”