Twenty-one

The bazaar was full today, with shouting market vendors clamoring for my attention and shoppers jostling me from every direction. I hadn't quite gotten used to my new appearance yet, and every pass by a dusty mirror took me by surprise.

It was no wonder the fabric merchants wanted my business when they saw the yards of vibrant textiles I was wearing, colors so rich the dye alone might have been a year's worth of custom. I even caught the hand of a cheeky pickpocket trying to unclasp my jeweled bracelet.

Today I was dressed in a kameez with floral embroidery and small blue beads adorning the sleeves like a thousand grains of indigo sand. My hair—which was now a lighter shade of mahogany brown—was twisted up into a knot and decorated with a golden headband with strings of pearls and golden beads covering my forehead. But the softer curve of my cheeks, round eyes, and gentle, approachable face took me aback just as much as my clothes.

Sanaya looked soft and petite, while Dania was rough and fierce.

Well, we were both fierce, my disguise just hid it better behind an intricately woven shalwar kameez, and a dupatta slung over my arms, so fine it could have been spun by the djinn.

Was this the kind of woman Mazin wanted? One who would be a gentle presence to his ferocious ambitions?

I caught myself before I went down that road.

It didn't matter what kind of love Mazin wanted. It was my job to make sure the person he chose was Sanaya. And once I destroyed him, perhaps I would finally be free of him. Free of his constant presence haunting me like a bhuta everywhere I went—his persistent ghost hounding my every thought.

I shot past the spice stalls, heaping with saffron threads, black salt, sharp dried mint, and heady mango powder. I ignored the jewelry stands that Noor would have insisted we stop at—the mirrored earrings and elaborate tikkas were some of her favorite things to buy. I didn't even spare a glance for the large piles at the fabric merchants, piled heavily with patterned textiles, cotton, silks, and organza. I was here for something else altogether.

Something caught my eye, darting through the thick crowd of people so deftly I almost didn't catch it. But when I looked closer, triumph lifted my steps.

At last, I spied what I was looking for.

Or who .

The boy was dirty, with wet mud crusted around his mouth as if he'd been eating it. Dirt was daubed across his face and arms like paint—and I realized it probably was. He gave the appearance of a starving orphan who hadn't been bathed in weeks. But when I cast my eyes over his frame and spied his healthy limbs poking out of his worn kurta, I knew he was getting enough to eat. This too was an act, one designed to dismiss him as a wretched beggar boy, so no one noticed that he was very practiced at his trade. When I'd last been at the bazaar with Noor, I'd let him go with a laugh when he'd tried to steal my purse.

But today I had business.

He hadn't noticed me yet. Instead, he weaved through the crowd with practiced ease. The bazaar was busy, with the workday finished and many stopping here to shop or grab a bite at the various kebab and paratha stands lining the edge of the market. Not a single customer noticed the filthy pickpocket as he made himself rich by lifting all their expensive belongings and bulging money purses.

He was quite a sight to watch. Bejeweled bangles, shining pocket watches, and thick sacks of coins—he pocketed them all in a streamlined fashion, tucking them into a small weathered bag that hung at his waist. By the time he made it to the other side of the street, I saw who I had hoped he would lead me to—an older boy waiting at the edge of the alley.

This was who he reported to.

I needed to be quick if I was going to catch them.

They slipped into the alley, a narrow space between yellowed mud-brick buildings that looked so uninviting no one else stood near it. I trailed behind, weaving through the heavy crowds and darting around a run-down jalebi stall.

I rounded the corner and stole into the alley behind them, the darkness swallowing me up.

My dagger was hidden under the folds of my kameez, and I reached for it. What I didn't expect was the cool press of steel under my chin before I could even draw my own weapon.

"You didn't think we saw you following Yashem? Sahiba, you stick out like the emperor's stallion in a herd of pack camels." The boy sounded amused, and far older than he had looked in the bazaar.

My lips lifted involuntarily, despite the surprise jolting through me that the urchin had managed to get the upper hand. I thought I'd been more prepared to deal with him. But I was more pleased than afraid, even though he was the one pressing the knife against my neck. If he could handle himself against me, he might do very well if Mazin was his opponent. I pushed my neck forward lightly to test the blade. The edge of it didn't even prick my skin with the telltale slice of a stone-sharpened knife.

Blunt. I could work with blunt.

"It's not many that have taken me by surprise with a dagger. You should consider yourself skilled."

He flicked the point up to my chin, so I had to tilt my head up. "I do."

Before he could make another move, I shot my hand to his, twisting the dagger from his fingers and turning it on him instead. I widened my stance, advancing on him with the dagger held firmly in my hands. It was heavier than I had thought it would be, a fairly decent blade. He must have stolen it from someone wealthy.

The boy held his hands up at me, fear replacing the mock bravado that I'd seen moments before. But his brown eyes grew even wider when I turned the hilt over to him.

"Go on, take it. I'm not here to fight you, I have something else in mind."

His expression shadowed with suspicion as he snatched the knife from my hand. "What?"

"A business proposition."

The boy scowled at me. "We don't kill for money, sahiba. Now leave before we rob you of all your fine silks."

I put my hands up. "I don't want you to kill anyone. With any luck, no one will get hurt. And if you do a good job and are interested in easy money, I will have plenty more work for you."

"What's the job?" His voice was harsh, dismissive even, but I could hear the greedy interest behind them, especially when I lifted a purse full of coins to show him how serious I was.

I tossed him the bag and he caught it easily with one hand.

"Anam Sial, ward of the emperor, will be shopping later in the bazaar." I swallowed thickly, pushing down the strange sensation of guilt bubbling up in my chest. But Maz had made his choice and with it, sealed her fate. Guilt was not an emotion I could afford.

"I want you to kidnap her."

The urchin barked out a laugh before tossing the bag of coins back at me. "Now I know you aren't in your right mind, sahiba. You think I don't know who her brother is? Mazin Sial rules this city. Taking his sister would be a death sentence. He'd burn all of Basral down."

The corner of my mouth lifted at the fear I heard behind the thief's words. Mazin had built a reputation in the time I had been gone. One that I would happily tear apart.

The boy opened his mouth, but I pulled another purse of coins from my belt and any words died on his tongue. "You won't have her for long. And Mazin won't know who did this. It will be between you and me only. I can promise you that."

"How can you promise to keep the most powerful man in the city away from us, sahiba? It cannot be done." His words were firm, but his eyes stayed on the bags of coins in my hand.

"Because I'm about to burn Basral down before he even gets a chance." I held up the purse. "Do you want this money or not?"

I eyed the smaller boy, whom he called Yashem. He was looking between me and the older street thief. Maybe it was time to switch tactics.

"Yashem, is it? You clearly work together, are there more of you?"

"Yes, sahiba." His voice came out as a squeak, but then he shored up his shoulders and lifted his chin. "We are many."

He looked to the coins in my hand, and then at the older boy. Finally, the older boy rolled his eyes and nodded.

Yashem stepped forward, holding out his hands for the bags.

"And we would like to hear more about your business proposition, sahiba."

I crossed my arms over my chest and smiled.

A few hours later I was back at the bazaar, having been alerted by Noor that Anam and her guards were finally heading there.

I sat at one of the tables along the path by the market food stalls, taking in the smells of hot pakora, sizzling curries, the heat of chilis in the air. After a year of sameness in prison, it was as if my senses weren't yet attuned to being back in the world, and now they were bombarded. I had taken for granted all this vibrancy before. But sitting here I closed my eyes and savored the smell of hot sugar and ghee as each fresh jalebi was made.

I convinced myself that the gnawing in my stomach was from the smell of roasted meat, and not the pang of my conscience trying to stop me.

I looked down at my hands—still my own after changing my face with zoraat.

I had known immediately my hands were the only thing I couldn't have changed. They had led me to freedom, were the reason I could use a sword so well. But above all, I knew I wouldn't have been able to look down and see someone else's fingers, someone else's scars. These hands would never be locked behind bars again, would never be stopped from holding the weight of a sword hilt. These were the hands that would see me through this.

Movement at the end of the bazaar caught my eye, and I lifted my head as Anam made her way through the winding streets.

She wore a simple shalwar kameez, a soft blue, edged in delicate floral embroidery. The black nondescript cloak I was wearing over my clothes made blending in with the crowd much easier for my next task, but underneath I wasn't wearing anything so subtle as Anam. My silver beaded suit would shine garishly in the afternoon sun—I was projecting wealth, not taste. The diamond-studded bangles lining my arms would draw the eyes of every market shopper for miles. I moved closer to the banyan tree in the center of the square and farther from view.

Anam was flanked by two guards, and I recognized both.

Durab and Tishk. I'd trained with them at the palace whenever I'd come to visit Maz. They were smart enough, but I'd put my money on the pickpockets as smarter. I wiped the sweat from my brow, the sun already hot enough that I was baking underneath my coat. Anam stopped at a jewelry stall to admire some earrings.

A shout sounded from nearby, and I smiled to myself.

This was it.

The stall beside Anam burst into flame.

The crowd panicked. Screams filled the bazaar and people clamored to get away from the fire. Anam was pushed to the other end of the market by grubby little hands. I hurried down the street, keeping my eyes on her as she was swallowed by the wave of bodies. Durab and Tishk pushed and shouted trying to get to her, but it was too late. There was no sign of Anam as I made my way through the pandemonium of the market, weaving between shrieking women and irate shopkeepers desperately trying to protect their wares from the blaze.

I even bumped into the bulky body of Durab as he shouted Anam's name.

My hood covered my face, and I quickly slipped into the crowd, but he didn't pay me any attention. I stepped into a dark alley, casting a look over my shoulder to make sure no one had followed me before melting into the shadows.

"Help! Tishk!" Anam's voice pierced through the alley.

"Can you shut her up?"

"Oomph." A cry of pain sounded and a wheezed response I couldn't make out. "It's taking everything I have to hold her."

"At least we have the rope around her now—argh, she bit me!"

"Get off me! I'll give you my purse. If my brother finds out you've taken me, you'll be executed!"

I raised a brow at her words, and the feeling behind them. It wasn't superiority, but rather genuine fear for the ones who had taken her.

Fear of what her brother would do to these street urchins.

Would Mazin actually execute children? The boy had mentioned that he would burn down the entire city if Anam was taken, but I hadn't thought he was serious.

What had Mazin become? Or was this his true self, a power-hungry tyrant who controlled the city by fear?

I folded my arms across my chest, simmering with a strange feeling of anticipation. Let him come. I would be here, burning Basral before he even thought about striking a match.

The street thieves held Anam at the end of the darkened alley, in a small building that was abandoned years ago. She sat in a chair, bound, with only a shaft of light from a broken roof tile above to illuminate what was happening. I clung to the darkness while I examined her from afar. Her hands and feet were tied, and still she had left two of the thieves nursing their wounds on the floor.

Impressive. Mazin taught her well.

With my lessons.

"We aren't letting you go until we receive our ransom!" The older boy nodded to Yashem.

"Maz will pay your ransom and then tear each limb from your body. Then the emperor will display your heads on a pike at the front of the city," she responded, her words pleading, not vicious.

Truthful.

I stepped out of the shadows, finally making my move. "I think the wise thing to do would be to let the girl go, don't you?"

The boys turned toward me. Yashem was about to say something, but I shook my head. The older one shot him a look.

"Who are you?" he said, following it with a giant wink that thankfully Anam couldn't see. I rolled my eyes and stepped closer.

"Who is that?" she called out, confusion and fear clear in her voice, and she lifted her head as if to see me, despite wearing a blindfold.

"Don't worry Miss Sial, I'm here to rescue you." I turned to the thieves. "I will make it very worth your while to let the girl go." I gave a stern look to Yashem when he smiled broadly. The other boy slapped a hand over his mouth.

I really should have hired better actors.

"Maybe we'll ransom you too!" The older boy lunged, just as we practiced, and I feinted left, landing a soft blow to his middle and spinning around him. He let out an exaggerated howl that sounded as if a cat had been killed. I huffed out my exasperation and fluttered my hand at Yashem as he stood gawking. He nodded and together they ran with the other thieves, leaving Anam and me alone.

To her, it would have seemed like a fight had broken out, and her captors were fleeing from the conflict. To me, I had Anam exactly where I wanted her.

"Hello?" Her words echoed through the now empty building.

"Anam?" My voice dripped with false concern. I threw off my dark cloak and strode over to her, pulling off her blindfold and pasting a fake look of alarm on my fake face.

"Sanaya?" She was disoriented, blinking repeatedly despite the lack of light, and staring up at me with her large dark eyes.

The same eyes her brother had.

I jerked back, my heart hammering in my chest.

Damn him . I would not think of him now, especially when I felt pity for his sister. She was just a pawn. Someone to manipulate, just as he manipulated me.

I steeled my heart, wrapping it in molten metal, impenetrable to any guilt or sadness. The fact that she had his eyes should remind me even more that he was the primary target.

I leaned forward again. "Are you all right? I saw you get dragged into the alley, but there was so much chaos with the fire. I knew I had to do something. Especially when they talked about holding you for ransom!"

At least I could play up the little wretches' dramatic embellishments.

Relief filled Anam's face. "Sanaya—thank you so much. Please get me out of here. Mazin will be so so angry I was taken in his city."

His city.

It wouldn't be for much longer.

"As long as you are safe now, that is what matters." I untied the rest of her bindings and helped her up from the chair. "Come, let us get you back to the bazaar. Your guards will be looking for you."

We left the abandoned building and made it back to the busy streets. The air stank of smoke and burned cloth, but the fire was out and the vendors were busy salvaging their stands. A shout sounded from down the street and both Anam's guards rushed to us.

"Anam! Where have you been? We had to tell your brother you disappeared!" Durab's sword was drawn, as if he were about to run through half the people in the market. Shoppers threw him uneasy looks and gave us a wide berth.

Perfect. Nothing like panicking bodyguards to fall right into your trap.

"It was street thugs, Durab. They dragged me into the alley to ransom me."

I stifled a smile. Thugs was rather a strong word considering their ages and build, but Anam likely couldn't see much given how fast they'd blindfolded her, which was a very good thing.

"But Sanaya stopped them." Anam's soft gaze landed on me.

Durab and Tishk both looked at me, as if realizing for the first time I was standing there. Again, I felt that uncomfortable itching sensation, worried they would see past the disguise.

I thought about the time I had beat Durab in a bout, and he lay flat on his back with a mouth full of dirt, his sword yards from his grasp.

If he knew who I was, he wouldn't hesitate to use the deadly scimitar in his hands to strike me through. I glanced at Tishk, who was standing beside Anam checking her for injuries. He was the one I was wary of, the one who could figure things out quickly in the training ring and use an opponent's weaknesses against them.

He returned my gaze, sizing me up and down as if I had been the street thug dragging off Anam. Tishk had a permanent distrust of everything.

In response to his suspicious scowl, I presented him with a sunny smile.

"I did what anyone would do, really, I saw two ruffians drag Anam off and I had to help her." I nodded at Anam. "We only met briefly, but I remembered you right away. I'm so glad I could be of assistance."

Anam smiled and reached for my hands. She clasped them in mine, then pulled me into an embrace. It took me a second too long to react, and she held me tight as my arms hung limply by my side. It had been a long time since I'd been embraced by anyone except when I'd hugged my grandmother, and even that had felt wooden and forced. Unbidden tears pricked at my eyes and I swallowed thickly. What was wrong with me?

Kindness was seductive. As Sanaya I could pretend I was kind, that I did things out of the goodness of my heart, and not because I wanted to destroy her brother.

But revenge was much more satisfying.

Mazin certainly wasn't kind when he had me locked up in the worst prison in the empire. And kindness wouldn't help me now.

I leaned back from the embrace, a friendly smile on my face. "I felt a kinship with you when we first met."

A spark of warmth entered her eyes. I knew her, knew the loneliness she felt living in the palace without anyone else, and I preyed on it.

"I couldn't just let you get kidnapped. I had to do something."

"But you risked yourself for me, and that is commendable." She looked up at her guard. "Is it not, Tishk?"

He opened his mouth to respond, some of the unease about me lessening in the set of his shoulders, but the voice that answered was not his.

"It is indeed commendable."

My eyes fluttered closed.

That low rumble always had the power to send me to my knees. But this time I had prepared for him, had counted on him being here.

I turned to face him, brushing out the beads on my kameez and raising my eyes up to meet his.

Maz was immaculate. All in black as usual, the gold on his sher wani coat gleaming in the afternoon light. His sun-kissed hair was swept back, the thick waves of it perfectly neat. I remembered running my fingers through it as he lay in my bed, talking about all the dreams we'd had. I remembered besting him in the training ring, the only time I ever really saw a strand out of place. I stretched my lips wide at his dark glance. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and he seemed to be barely holding himself in check, like a jackal surveying the valley before it pinpointed its next meal. Except there was no prey here.

Then why did I still feel hunted?

"It seems we owe you thanks, Sanaya," said Mazin, circling. His voice was tight.

Oh, you owe me a lot more than that.

He was different than he had been at Casildo's. This time instead of a hint of sadness in his eyes, it was pure murder. Rage darkened his countenance now. The last time I had seen him like this, he'd been in my room, talking about the emperor.

Now someone had stolen his sister, and he was here to make them pay.

"Durab, Tishk. Round up the city guards. I want the bazaar turned inside out. The perpetrators cannot be far. Someone in Basral will know something."

"Yes, sir," Durab said, his fist curling around the pommel of his scimitar.

"And remember," Maz said smoothly, staring at the two guards. "My sister was taken during your watch." His mouth twisted into a sneer. "Don't disappoint me again. Find who took her." That same muscle ticked in his jaw, his eyes blazing.

Durab and Tishk raised their chins, shame painted on their features. They nodded once and left us, their footsteps burning holes in the red earth.

Leaving Anam, Mazin, and me standing together in the bazaar.

"Thank you for saving Anam," Mazin said quietly. "My own guards failed where you succeeded. We owe you a great debt."

"It was nothing," I said, unsure of who he was now. He was so serious . So stoic. Like a shadow had passed over him and never quite left.

"It was something to me." He inclined his head, his eyes never leaving mine. I felt a sense of unease steal over me, his expression still too murderous while he watched me.

"My brother is right. You were amazing. You should have seen her, Maz. Well, not that I could." She made a face. "But I heard her. She fought off the thieves and rescued me."

"Did you manage to get a look at them?" His gaze was probing and I stood a little straighter under his attention.

"I'm afraid not," I said, shaking my head with false disappointment. "It was dark, and I was more focused on helping Anam."

"Their age? Any identifying scars or features? Were they short or tall? How were they dressed?"

"Brother! Stop pestering her when she's just saved me. We should be giving her a proper thank-you, not interrogating her. Come, Sanaya." She linked her arm in mine, walking to the tanga that waited for her with the other carriages at the edge of the bazaar.

"Forgive me," Mazin said, his voice low, stepping alongside me and matching my pace. I closed my eyes and savored the rumble of that voice and the way it vibrated through me.

"There's nothing to forgive." My voice was bright, tinny, false. But then everything about him had been false too.

"Have lunch at the palace with us."

I whirled my head to face him, my breath stolen at his commanding words. They had seemed almost rushed, a last-minute invitation, but his face was serious, his mouth set.

"Anam's right," he continued, tilting his head. "We should be giving you a proper thank-you. Let us honor you for what you've done today."

Anam let go of my arm and clapped her hands together. "That's perfect. Let's meet tomorrow at the palace."

"I would love that."

"Then it's settled," he said, placing a hand on the small of my back. Despite the layers and beading I felt the heat from his palm as if it were on bare skin. I shivered.

If he noticed the movement, he didn't react. He still watched me with that same inscrutable stare.

What happened to you? I wanted to ask. Where had the boy I'd known gone?

He never existed. He was never real.

He withdrew his hand and helped Anam into the carriage.

"Can we give you a ride anywhere?"

I blinked at him, realizing he held his hand out and was offering to assist me into the tanga. I shrunk back. As much as I needed to spend more time with him, to sow the seeds of my own revenge, I needed to gather myself. If I were shivering from his touch I didn't know what I'd do sitting beside him in a carriage ride.

And with Basral soldiers scouring the city for my pickpockets, I had other things to take care of.

"I have my own driver waiting for me. I just wanted to make sure Anam was all right."

He nodded, then rubbed a hand across his chin. "Until tomorrow, then."

"Until tomorrow," I repeated.

I waited until they were out of sight, until the tanga wasn't even a speck on the cobblestone road, before flopping down on the bench next to the banyan tree and cradling my head in my hands.

Everything was perfect. They'd invited me to the palace, I'd ingratiated myself to Anam. It was all unfolding exactly how we'd planned.

Then why did I feel like I was still sitting in that prison, counting the days until my freedom?