She opened her eyes and asked, “And how did you … When did you become…？”
He hesitated, and when he spoke, his voice was hushed, like that of a child telling a secret. “I asked for this,” he said. “After my father’s and brothers’ deaths, I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to keep control of Atashar. I had so little education on the subject, so I asked the div what I should do. She told me to tear out the heart of a div, and to bathe in the blood from that heart. I didn’t want to kill the div I had, and so I hunted down another, one with scales and claws and wings. I didn’t realize what would happen. I didn’t know…” He looked down at his hands—clawed and scaled, gnarled and bloodstained—and then looked up at Soraya, eyes pleading for understanding.
And she did understand, of course. It was so easy to imagine their places switched. She knew, too, why he had been so affected on the night of the dakhmeh, when she told him his story. Because it was not just his story that he heard, but his fears, his own strangled heartbeat, echoing back to him from someone else for the first time.
“You appeared as a human to me,” she said, returning to her plan. “Why don’t you do so all the time? Why would you choose to live as a div instead of a human?”
From the way Azad avoided her eye, she could tell he didn’t want her to know the answer. “I tried, for a time,” he said. “But the effect is temporary, and the price is not always easy to obtain.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“The blood from a div’s heart made me a div. I thought, then, that the opposite might be true as well.”
“The opposite—？” Soraya’s eyes widened in understanding. “Blood from a human heart?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “And it did work, but as I said, only for a short time. Little more than a month before I would need to repeat the process.”
Soraya grimaced and covered her mouth with her hand, remembering one of the more gruesome parts of the Shahmar’s story—that he would demand the sacrifice of two men every month, seemingly for no reason. And in a strange way, Soraya was grateful for the knowledge. The image of the ill-omened boy had become too strong and too familiar in her mind. She needed a reminder of his blood-soaked reign.
But then an even more unsavory truth occurred to her. “That means that before you returned to Golvahar, before I first saw you, you must have…”
He nodded. “I can still change form, but it will wear off soon.” He had been avoiding her eye, but now he looked at her, and he bristled at the revulsion on her face. “Besides, to live as a human would mean living as no one, as nothing, the way I once was. If that’s a human life, then I prefer to live as I am. As the Shahmar, I have the power to command a shah to his knees.”
The image of Sorush kneeling before him sent a welcome burst of anger through her, and before she could stop herself, she said, “And as the Shahmar, you lost your throne.”
One of his hands clenched and unclenched at his side. In a cold voice, he said, “There’s something you haven’t asked me yet, Soraya.”
Soraya’s pulse quickened. Had he seen through her line of questioning? Did he know she was going to ask about the feather next? “What question is that?”
“Ask me for the name of the div who turned me into the Shahmar.”
If Soraya felt a prickle of foreboding at his words, she ignored it in favor of relief that he didn’t know her true purpose. “Fine, then. What’s the name of the div who turned you into the Shahmar?”
His mouth twisted into a thin, cruel smile as he pronounced the name that Soraya should have expected, because it was the only name that would have meant anything to her, the name that would hurt her most:
“Parvaneh.”
21
In her room once more, Soraya tried to erase Azad’s words from her mind.
Ask me for the name of the div who turned me into the Shahmar.
She had wanted to deny it, but the more she considered it, the more it made sense. This was why Azad hunted down and captured pariks. This was why the other pariks shunned Parvaneh—and why she was so desperate to defeat the Shahmar. Parvaneh had done to Azad what Azad had done to Soraya. Soraya wasn’t surprised, then, that he still hadn’t forgiven her.
Azad had returned her to her room, promising to return again the next night. And now Soraya sat at her table, the candelabra on the end closest to her, waiting for Parvaneh to appear.
“Any luck?”
Soraya’s head snapped up at the sound of Parvaneh’s voice. She was no longer wearing the worn shift from her captivity, but a shimmery gray tunic with a slit in the back for her wings. Had she been Azad’s prisoner ever since he had been a young prince, still human? No wonder, then, that there was an effusive energy around her now that she was free, her eyes bright and smiling.
“No,” Soraya said. “Not yet. I think he’s beginning to trust me, though. He told me a great deal about himself.”
The smile in Parvaneh’s eyes wavered. “Did he? Anything useful?”
“In a way.”
Parvaneh turned away from her, arms crossing over her chest as she looked around the cavern. “Being here makes me feel like a prisoner again,” she said. “Is it safe for you to sneak out to the forest?”
She almost said no to be contrary—or to punish Parvaneh for her deception. But she knew staying here would be more of a punishment for herself. Unlike Parvaneh, Soraya couldn’t come and go anytime she liked.
They left the mountain the same way as before, using the cloak and the secret escape tunnel. When they were outside, Parvaneh led her through the trees, back to the grove of hornbeams. There, a small fire was burning on the ground, and a number of dark moths fluttered around it, drawn to its light. Soraya hadn’t known Parvaneh would bring her back to this spot, and her face warmed from the memory of last night. Was she destined always to grow close to people who would betray her? Or perhaps the problem was that she wasn’t growing close to people, but to demons.
A mossy log lay beside the fire, and Soraya sat down at one end of it, watching the moths dance around the flames. Parvaneh sat beside her, close enough for their shoulders to touch and said, “I have something for you. A gift.”
Soraya was tempted to say that she didn’t want anything Parvaneh offered—or to ask her whether she had thought she was giving Azad a gift, too, when she convinced him to murder his family. But before she could say anything, Parvaneh was holding out the gift: a sprig of white hyacinth.
“That’s from Golvahar,” Soraya said, reaching to take it. She instinctively brushed it against her cheek, the familiar scent and feel making her eyes sting with tears. “You went back?”
Parvaneh nodded. “I wanted to know what the Shahmar was doing during the day—he’s been holding audiences with the nobility, offering them gifts and land to solidify their loyalty. Some of them have refused, but the ones who agreed are granted more freedom of movement. Some have even been allowed to leave the palace with their families. He’s also been sending divs out into the city to patrol the streets. Many of the buildings are damaged, but the people are safe for now. I think they’re trying to go about their days without attracting any attention.” She paused, and glancing at the hyacinth in Soraya’s hands, she said, “I checked to make sure your family was safe too. They’re locked in a wing of the palace, but they seemed unharmed from what I could see. And then I couldn’t resist bringing something back for you.”