“Oi, it’s the truth,” Altair said. “You excelled in your every class, with every weapon they threw in your hands. You were eloquent. You were brilliant. And even if you weren’t, even if you were the dumbest child ever to curse the earth, none of it would have mattered, because you made our mother proud.”
He hadn’t meant to say all of that, and though Nasir was silent as usual, the silence he held now was one of shock.
Might as well get it all out.
“I hated it. I hated you. I hated how deeply she loved you, but it brought her joy. You brought her joy.”
On the streets below, a crier wailed some nonsensical news and children dashed down from the nearby sooq. Nasir didn’t apologize, as some would. He didn’t breathe a word, the idiot boy.
“And then you stopped using your brain in lieu of your father’s,” Altair said, softer now. “You stopped being yourself.” He looked away, words dropping softer still. “And I hated you even more for it.”
The words clung to the air, bringing with it a gust of the past. Nasir tucked his ridiculously tidy bundle of weaponry away, and a trail of black followed him to the edge of the roof, as if he were fading into the light. Just when Altair thought he would leap off the end, peacock that he was, he spoke without turning.
“I was not made for battle. This is not my fight.”
“Is it mine?” Altair asked with a hollow laugh. “Because I’m his son?”
Nasir stared into the sky as if he hadn’t considered that. As if he’d forgotten. “Destruction follows darkness. You know this.”
And then he was gone, leaving Altair’s second scimitar at his feet.
CHAPTER 75
Of the two Iskandars Nasir imagined standing at his door, the younger one was not it. He did not expect he would be the one she’d come to with such distress, either.
“What is it?”
Lana wrung her hands. “It’s my sister. She—she’s leaving.”
His brows flicked upward. “And where is she going?”
“I don’t know—just hurry!”
Nasir heaved a weary sigh but followed after Lana as she rushed down the hallway. It was gratifying, he supposed, that she had come to him instead of anyone else. Then again, he suspected the bronze-haired girl, Yasmine, would lock Zafira in a room if she had to.
Lana paused in front of a rounded archway until a servant pulled aside the curtain. For a girl who grew up in a village, she had adjusted to palace life rather quickly.
“I almost let her go,” she said, darting through. “I even gave her—”
“Gave her what?” Nasir asked, refusing to run.
She waved a dismissive hand and slipped into the kitchen, taking a shortcut. The place was bustling with cooks and maids, a variety of aromas fighting for dominance and reminding him he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in quite some time. Stacks of flatbread were piled high, an undercook hefting a trio from a stone oven while a woman and a shirtless boy peeled potatoes into an ample pot.
“That thing is large enough to sit in,” Lana murmured.
Not entirely adjusted, Nasir ceded. She ducked her head, realizing her slip when he cast her a look.
He flung open the door to a gust of cold air, and came to a halt. There she was, radiant in the still-early light. A cloak sat at her shoulders, furred with a hood in deep plum. Her tunic cut above the knees, the tail fading to black as it fell lower. The sleeves must have been short, because she’d wrapped bands from forearm to wrist, gray ribbons like armor matching the shawl at her neck. Its fringe was as black as the sash around her middle, framing the ring at her chest. For a brief moment, Nasir’s lungs had forgotten what they were meant to do. She was a marvel to behold, a vision both deadly and beautiful.
The Jawarat was clutched to her chest.
“Where are you going?” he said.
Zafira startled, surprised to see him with Lana by his side. She glared at her and slowly unclenched her jaw. “Sultan’s Keep.”
Snow dusted the courtyard, and a guard kicked some as he went. Nasir leaned against the doorway, keeping his words and stance nonchalant. “And what do you intend to do?”
“I’m sorry for what I did, and I’m going to make up for it.”
There was no redeeming oneself of murder. He knew it, and the sorrow in her eyes told him she knew it, too. He nodded slowly. “What does that have to do with Sultan’s Keep?”
“I can stop the Lion.”
Lana sputtered. Nasir’s eyebrows rose.
Zafira snatched her bag with a wince, pressing a hand to her breast.
“You’re in no condition to ride.”
“I can sit astride if someone else handles the reins,” she said, vehement.
“And if you run into trouble? Will you wave an arrow and hope the Lion dies?”
Lana snickered.
Zafira looked down at the Jawarat. “I’ll find myself a horseman who knows their way around a weapon.”
He knew of such a person, as skilled with a weapon as he was with a horse. He knew of a person who would take her to the ends of the world, if only she would ask. He would take the stars from the sky and fashion them into a crown, if only she would have it.
Yet he said nothing. He was not like the boy who had given her a ring, which she wore at her heart like a promise of forever. He was the prince, whose throne she wanted no part of, lips molded to hers for a few brief moments stolen from a thousand more.
Nasir uncrossed his arms and made to leave.
“Wait! Just … don’t tell the others yet. Please.”
“Why not?”
“I know I wasn’t included in the plans. I know no one will let me go, because you’re all concerned or afraid or what have you.”
He bit back a smile at her flustered attempt to act unflustered. The way she was, he didn’t think Altair and Kifah would consider her stable enough, but he wasn’t about to be brushed aside so easily. There was no reversing what she had done, but to stop it from happening again? Nasir would do anything.
“I won’t tell them on one condition.”
She looked at him warily.
“Let me be your horseman.” Let me be your everything.
He was northbound anyway. The quick lift of her eyebrows revealed her surprise.
“Aren’t you afraid of me?”
Never. “What have I ever done to wrong you?”
Lana’s lips twitched against a smile. Zafira wasn’t convinced.
“You’ll leave the others behind for me?”
Someday, she would learn he would do anything for her. Someday, he would find the words to tell her as much.
“No one will even notice I’m gone,” Nasir said. Not until it was too late, at least. “Have we a deal?”
He watched Zafira’s slow intake of air. “No.”
He shrugged a shoulder and turned to leave without a word, banking on her small sliver of hesitance as Lana panicked.
“Fine,” Zafira bit out. “Don’t vilify the Jawarat, and our pact is sealed.”
Nasir turned back to her and smiled. “Of course, sayyida.”
Of all the lies he’d told, this was easiest.
CHAPTER 76
We do not need him.
That, Zafira thought with her one remaining shred of sanity, was precisely why she needed him. Even if the very thought of sharing a horse with him flooded her with heat.