Around her, silver gossamer. Above, a painted sea of stars.
“Roohi,” he rasped, feathering her jaw until they were both panting, until a hot tear rolled down his face and fell to the hollow beneath her shoulder, searing her bare skin.
“Why do you cry?” Zafira whispered.
Roohi, roohi, roohi. He stitched her soul anew.
“Because my heart cannot contain it.”
CHAPTER 114
Later, much later, perhaps one or ten or fifteen days after he had bound his life to hers, light streamed through the open windows as the palace slept away the midday heat. She murmured sleepily beside him, lashes feathering the tops of her cheeks. The book bound to her soul lay at ease in the room just beyond.
He lifted her arm and touched his mouth to the skin inside her wrist. This was what he feared more than the dark, more than the power at his grasp: the whisper of her pulse, petering to silence. Taking her from him.
Fear made his love grow. To fear was to live and to strengthen. It was maddening as it swelled in his heart, and yet, amid all his feelings was one more, stirring foreign and raw: contentment.
I once loved, he had inked on his wrist. I will again, he inked on the other. He opened his palm and a plume of shadow curled to life. It was a reminder: People lived because he did.
And to think, once upon a time, Nasir Ghameq, Caliph of Sarasin and Crown Prince of Arawiya, had wished he could feel nothing at all.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I hear every author reaches a moment in her career when they simply can’t anymore. When they fall deep where the waters are dark and the light vanishes from sight. I reached that low with We Free the Stars. It was a beast of a book, a monster that took everything from me, and I was afraid I’d never reach the end.
And I wouldn’t have, if not for my family. My mother, who believed in me from day one. My father, who attended every last industry event and pushed me to go beyond my limits. My brother, Abdullah, just because. My sisters, Asma and Azraa: the pillars that kept me sane. Thank you for pulling all-nighters with me, for reading draft after draft and line after edited line, for being the tireless advocates I couldn’t have found anywhere else.
That’s my family, but a book’s family is a lot larger, and there are so many more amazing souls to thank.
To Janine O’Malley, for making me suffer—I’m kidding. Sort of. But thank you. For believing in me from day one and for your endless patience and wisdom. For the extensions upon extensions, and the chocolate. For knowing I’d get there as you asked all the right questions, even when they made me want to tear my hair out. This book would not be what it is without you, and I don’t say that lightly. To Melissa Warten, who never asked to be stuck with me and the complex world of Arawiya, but made it shine in ways I never imagined. Thank you for your relentless support and friendship.
To my team at Macmillan, a family I adore and love and appreciate so, so much. To Brittany Pearlman, publicist extraordinaire. Thank you for escorting me around the country and working tirelessly for this series. For going out of your way to ensure I felt safe. To Molly Ellis, for accompanying me to Macmillan dinners and keeping my headaches at bay. To Allison Verost, for pulling all the strings. Our breakfast at SDCC 2019 continues to be one of the highlights of my career. To the magnificent Melissa Zar and Jordin Streeter. To Mariel Dawson, secret ally. To Katie Halata and Kristen Luby, for making Sands of Arawiya shine in all things S&L. To Fierce Reads tour queen Morgan Rath. Also Joy Peskin, Jen Besser, Jon Yaged, Callum Plews, Kathryn Little, Gaby Salpeter, Mary Van Akin, and all the magicians in sales who make wonders happen.
To Elizabeth Clark for the design, Erin Fitzsimmons for the gorgeous typography to match, and Simón Prades for the killer cover art once more. Thank you for turning my book into art.
To John Cusick, for your reassurance and your support, which I could always count on, and for your undying enthusiasm.
Special thanks to Joan He, girl and goat. To friends Brittany Holloway, Lisa Austin, Mary Hinson, and Sara Gundell. To Korrina Ede and the OwlCrate team for bringing the book to thousands of new readers, to Shelflove Crate and Illumicrate, and to the lovely Meagan and her team at FaeCrate. To Allie Macedo, Rameela, Nawal, and Sanya: We Hunt the Flame couldn’t have found bigger fans and enthusiasts. Thank you for making my days full of love. To the WHTF Street Team, for all your support. We were one heck of a team. To the unyielding creativity of bookstagrammers and the tireless advocacy of bloggers and influencers, booksellers and librarians: thank you. Your work does not go unnoticed.
As always, last but never, ever least: you. Thank you for picking up this book and this series. For every post and every email, for the fic that you write and the art that you create and the edits that you whip up: Thank you. You make my days special, and I’m forever grateful. Thank you for being part of the zumra. Shukrun.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Hafsah Faizal is the New York Times bestselling author of We Hunt the Flame, and the founder of IceyDesigns, where she creates websites for authors and beauteous goodies for everyone else. When she’s not writing, she can be found designing, deciding between Assassin’s Creed and Skyrim, or traversing the world.
Born in Florida and raised in California, she now resides in Texas with her family and a library of books waiting to be devoured. You can sign up for email updates here.