Soraya laughed. “I would make an interesting addition to your court, wouldn’t I?”
Sorush stopped walking, his expression serious. “I mean it. You would be welcome at my court.”
Soraya considered his offer, wondering how she would have reacted a year ago, if she would have been grateful or anxious. But whatever longing she had once had to be a part of court life had shriveled away. “I appreciate the offer, truly, but I don’t think I’ll join you. I love my people—and I will keep my promise to protect them—but I’ve found somewhere else that feels more like home.”
“Where will you go?”
“With us,” came a voice from above.
They both turned their heads up to see Parvaneh settled on a tree branch, her legs dangling below.
Soraya couldn’t help smiling at the sight of her. “When did you get back?”
“Just now,” she said, floating gracefully down from the branch with a small flutter of her wings. “But you both looked so serious, I didn’t want to interrupt.” Parvaneh walked over to Soraya and kissed her cheek. “We’re nearly done, I think,” she said. “A few days more, and you’ll never know that a horde of demons rampaged through the city.”
Sorush cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. “Thank you—all of you—for what you’ve done for us. The pariks have truly shown themselves to be allies.”
“Thank your mother for that,” Parvaneh said. “She and Parisa have become good friends, and we pariks always help our friends.” Soraya hid a smile, noticing the renewed pride in Parvaneh’s voice when she spoke of her sisters, who had fully accepted her back into their ranks. Soraya had wondered why Parvaneh would still be willing to join them again after they had meted out such harsh punishment—but then she supposed that for ageless creatures, their punishment had been a relatively brief one.
“Will they let me come with you, do you think?” Soraya asked her.
“Of course,” Parvaneh said. “I told you a long time ago that you would be welcome among us.”
To Sorush, she explained, “The pariks live in a forest north of the mountains, and that’s where I want to go. I can keep a closer watch on the divs from there, and in the spring, I’ll return to Golvahar when the court does.”
Sorush nodded his agreement, and Parvaneh excused herself, returning to help the other pariks.
As they watched her fly away, Sorush said, “Isn’t she the one who tried to kill me?”
Soraya laughed. “I promise you, it wasn’t personal.”
* * *
The procession leaving Golvahar was much the same as the one that had arrived at the beginning of spring. If anything, it was even grander, in order to show the people that the shah had emerged strong and triumphant from his ordeal. Sorush led the procession beside his general, with Ramin among the azatan, riding stiffly because of his wound, and the people’s cheers were surely celebrating their own victory in addition to the shah’s. But from the roof where Soraya was watching, it was almost as if nothing had changed.
“So much trouble just to go from one place to another,” Parvaneh muttered beside her.
Well, Soraya thought with a hidden smile, maybe some things have changed.
Parvaneh turned and leaned back, her elbows on the parapet, with the easy grace of someone who could definitely fly. “Are you sad to see them go?” she asked Soraya.
Soraya shook her head. “This is the first time I’ve watched this procession without wondering if they’ll still remember me when they return.” She put a hand on the ledge beside Parvaneh’s arm. “And it’s the first time I’ve ever watched it with someone else.”
Parvaneh looked down at Soraya’s hand, her lips curving into a smile. With the tip of one finger, she began to draw a lazy path between the maze of thorns on the back of Soraya’s hand. “I’m glad you’re coming back with me to the forest. I don’t think I could return there without seeing you in every piece of it.”
A pleasurable warmth flowed through Soraya’s limbs as she watched Parvaneh. She had thought nothing would be more incredible than the simple sensation of touch, but she’d been wrong: more incredible still was the idea that she could be dangerous, all her thorns on display, and that someone would dare to touch her anyway.
But then her mood darkened, a cloud covering the sun. “You never told me what you thought when you first saw me like this,” she said to Parvaneh in a halting voice. “Were you disappointed?”
Parvaneh looked up at her in surprise. “Not at all,” she said. “I told you once I thought your veins were beautiful. Your thorns are lovelier still. But more important,” Parvaneh continued, drawing her hand away and moving closer to Soraya, “I like seeing you so much at peace.”
The words surprised Soraya, and she considered the truth of them. These past months of spring, she had felt unburdened, as if she had been carrying the weight of these thorns all her life—even when her curse had been lifted—and now could finally release them.
“I thought you liked seeing me angry,” Soraya said, leaning toward Parvaneh.
Parvaneh nodded in concession. “True. Maybe I just like seeing you.” Her hand reached around to the back of Soraya’s head to draw Soraya down toward her, and their lips met.
With her eyes closed, Soraya thought she heard the beating of Parvaneh’s wings, but Parvaneh broke away with her forehead wrinkled in confusion, her wings still, and her eyes wide as she looked over Soraya’s shoulder. The vivid memory of leathery wings made Soraya turn in alarm, but she immediately calmed when she saw the simorgh perched on the roof ledge, above the faded bloodstain that marked Azad’s death.
Parvaneh brushed her lips against a patch of skin along the curve of Soraya’s neck. “I’ll find you later,” she murmured before stepping off the edge of the roof, wings outstretched.
Alone with the simorgh, Soraya felt the same shyness as last time. She took a hesitant step toward the simorgh and said, “I thought you had left us again.”
The simorgh’s feathers all ruffled in response.
“No, you’ll never leave us, not when we need you,” Soraya said. “Thank you for all you did—and I’m so sorry for what I’ve done.” As she spoke, her stomach twisted with nerves. There was still a hollow space somewhere inside her that filled with guilt whenever she remembered extinguishing the fire. She only hoped that space would shrink in time.
The simorgh stepped off the ledge and came toward her, those all-knowing eyes seeing straight into her thoughts. She blinked once, then dipped her head and started to preen one of her wings. When she lifted her head again, she was holding a single feather in her beak. She stretched her neck forward, offering the feather to Soraya.
Soraya stared at the feather, remembering her fear that the simorgh would find her unworthy of such a gift. And yet … she felt no longing for it, no frustrated desire to be free of her poison or her thorns as she had before. She had spent so many years hiding away, trying to bury her emotions and all the poison that came with them, that now it was a relief to wear her thorns proudly, without shame or apology. She had her family. She had Parvaneh. She had a home. Her thorns deprived her of nothing—and in return, they gave her a place and a purpose in the world, her existence undeniable. Soraya no longer had to choose between one piece of herself and another. She could be whole.