Soraya’s eyes were stinging, her throat closing up. A part of her wanted to say that she was the one who should be asking for forgiveness—she was the one who had brought ruin on them all with her choices. And another part wanted to say no, she couldn’t forgive Tahmineh, because by trying to protect her daughter from one kind of danger, she had left her completely vulnerable to another.
But instead of saying either of those things, Soraya did what she had wanted to do since she was a child. She inched closer to her mother and laid her bare hand on Tahmineh’s. In the space of a breath—a sob, really—Tahmineh had enclosed Soraya in her arms, laying her daughter’s head on her chest and stroking her hair as she rocked them both slowly back and forth.
They wept, forgiveness neither granted nor denied for now. Perhaps they both were to blame, but they both also knew the kinds of terrible choices a person made when at the mercy of the Shahmar. It was a curse they shared, a curse that Soraya had inherited—and in a strange way, it was the first time she truly felt she was her mother’s daughter.
The heavy, formless guilt that had been threatening to suffo cate her was now taking shape, becoming something she could do rather than feel. “I started this,” Soraya said, her voice thick with tears. She lifted her head. “And I have to end it—for all of us.”
Tahmineh put her hands on Soraya’s face, one palm on either cheek, and for a moment, they remained like that, enjoying a simple pleasure that had so long been denied them. Then she dropped her hands and said, “He started this, not you. But you are the only one who can end this. If anyone can find a way to sneak out of the palace, it’s you. And once you’ve escaped, you have to find the parik with the wings of an owl. She already paid her debt to me, but maybe she’ll help us again. The pariks are against him, I think. If I can get you out of this room, will you do the rest?”
“Of course, but how—”
Tahmineh shook her head and held a finger to her lips. “Not now. Later, when it’s dark.” She gestured to the window, which was letting in the warm orange light of sunset.
They waited together until the light slowly faded away, and then Tahmineh whispered to her, “Wait behind the door. As soon as it opens, and the div enters, run out of here as quickly as you can. Don’t hesitate, Soraya, do you understand me?”
Soraya nodded, but she still didn’t know what her mother was planning. She stood with her back flat against the wall so that when the door opened, it would hide her. Tahmineh went to the window, curled her hand into a fist, and slammed it into the glass pane, shattering it with a loud crash.
Both Tahmineh and Soraya let out loud cries of alarm—though Soraya’s was genuine, while Tahmineh’s seemed calculated. Her eyes never left the door, not even as she pulled her bleeding arm back in through the window. Soraya wanted to run to her, but Tahmineh held up a hand, and she remembered her mother’s order not to hesitate.
Mere seconds later, the door slammed open with such force that Soraya was nearly crushed by the impact. The beaked div came forward, going across the room to where Tahmineh was holding out her bleeding arm while making garbled pleas for help. And despite her mother’s orders, Soraya did hesitate—because how could her mother know if the div would help her or if he would let her bleed to death? How could she be so sure that the Shahmar cared if she lived or died?
But if she didn’t go now, then Tahmineh’s actions would have been for nothing. Soraya had already wasted one of her mother’s gifts—she wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
With the div’s back to her, Soraya slid out from behind the door—and ran.
15
She began to veer right, but there was another div standing nearby, mercifully facing the other end of the hall, so Soraya skidded to a halt and changed direction. She wasn’t familiar with this part of the palace, but after making another turn, she found a narrow stairwell that would almost certainly be too small for most of the divs to fit into.
It was fortunate that the div had blocked her first instinct to turn right. When Soraya stepped out of the stairwell, she realized by the narrowness of the corridors and the unadorned walls that she was in passageways used mainly by servants, at the back of the palace. Soraya went to the end of the hall and turned down the only way open to her—a long hall that would take her from the new wing back to the main structure of the palace, where she could more easily disappear into the walls.
The long hallway led to a round, colonnaded vestibule with large, arched doorways that opened out to the grounds behind the palace. But the doorways were guarded, of course, by two equally large divs, and Soraya stayed in the shadows of her hallway, trying to remember the closest entrance to the passageways.
Her heart was beating frantically in her chest, and she took a breath to calm herself. If anyone can find a way to sneak out of the palace, it’s you, she thought, finding comfort in her mother’s words. Even though the poison had been drained out of her, she was still an expert at sneaking through the palace unseen and unheard. With one last inhale, she looked out across the vestibule, at the hallway opposite hers. Inside the second door on the right down that hall was an office for scribes, and inside that office was a hidden door that would take her into the passageways—if nobody caught her first.
Soraya stepped out into the vestibule, slowly enough that the soles of her slippers made no sound against the marble floor. With painfully slow steps, she reached the first column without the divs noticing her. She peered out from behind the column, waiting for the divs to look away before she dared move out into the center of the room, directly into their line of vision. She watched them … waiting … and finally, something made them turn their heads to look out onto the grounds.
Soraya ran, no longer bothering to take slow, quiet steps. The slapping sound of her slippers against the floor must have drawn their attention, because she heard a gruff shout, followed by the sound of footsteps running in her direction.
She was in the opposite hall now, and she made it to the second door just as one of the divs squeezed himself into the hallway, barreling after her while she fumbled with the door handle with damp hands. If I had my gloves, this would be easier, she thought, but she managed to get the door open and shut it behind her, hoping that would buy her enough time to disappear before the div saw where she had gone.
In the scribes’ dark, windowless office, Soraya moved by instinct, finding the opening of the door in the wall behind the writing desk. The door to the office began to open—Soraya stepped into the passageways—
And swung the door shut behind her as the div burst into the room. From the narrow seam in the wall, Soraya watched the div look around the empty office, confusion on his furred and leonine face. He let out an angry snort and then he was gone.
Soraya collapsed against the wall in relief—but her relief didn’t last long. She was safe for now, but still had to find a way out of the palace, and it was only a matter of time before the Shahmar discovered she was missing. He would likely guess she was in the passageways, and he already knew one of the entrances.
And then there was her mother’s advice, that Soraya find a parik with the wings of an owl. But even if Soraya managed to escape the palace, how would she ever manage to find the parik on her own?