Thirty

Before

"I told you to leave me alone. I have nothing to say to you." Anam's voice cut through the stillness of the palace, and I paused at the vehemence of her words. I had no idea who she was speaking to, but I knew it wasn't anyone I was going to like.

"What are you going to do?" the voice replied with a sneer. "Tell your brother?"

I frowned from my plush seat on the verandah, hidden behind the door. I tried to place the man's voice. It was nasal, like a whine, and out of pitch, if someone's speaking voice could be out of pitch.

"Of course not," Anam shot back. "I know how to take care of you myself."

I smiled, pride filling my chest as she stood her ground. But I wasn't about to let her deal with this man on her own.

I came around the door to find a pinched-faced young man with his hand gripping Anam's wrist. He was wearing the same dark sherwani as the palace guards, but he had a golden sash slung over one shoulder. I tried to remember what that sash meant, but my thoughts were clouded by a flash of anger at him grabbing her.

"Did you lose the dagger I gave you, Anam?" I said loudly, my fingers hovering over the talwar sheathed at my hip.

They both jumped and the young man whirled on me.

Anam used his distraction and wrenched her arm from his grasp. A red imprint from his fingers stood stark against her skin. I narrowed my eyes and took a step forward.

"Well?" I inclined my head.

Anam stared at me, seeming to remember I had asked a question. "I… No. I didn't lose it." She took a hurried step toward me.

"Then why does this man still have his eyes?" I turned my gaze to him and smiled.

Anam blurted out a laugh, but the mongoose-faced man stared at me.

"Who are you?" He curled his lip and looked me over, his gaze stopping on my plain kameez, then at my hand resting on the knife at my hip. "This conversation does not concern you. And how were you allowed to bring a sword into the palace?"

"I am the daughter of the emperor's weapons master." I crossed my arms. " Who are you ?"

"This is Darbaran, he's the new captain of the palace guards." Anam moved closer to me. I didn't miss the hurt way she wrapped her arms around herself, the delicate patterned embroidery on her kameez pulling tightly.

I looked him up and down, taking in the sneering boy who was trying to make Anam do something she didn't want to. " This weasel?"

"Dani!" Anam reached up, covering her laugh with a hand.

The weasel turned bright red. "If you keep talking to me like that, I'll have you arrested," he sputtered, reaching for his sword.

"You won't even get a chance to unsheathe your scimitar before I've sliced your hand off."

I turned away from him.

Never expose your back to an attacker . I could hear Baba's voice, but I ignored it.

The sound of metal pulling from its sheath sent a rush of excitement up my spine. If Darbaran attacked, he'd regret it quickly.

"Darbaran, I don't think you should do that," Anam pleaded.

"It's okay, Anam, maybe we should let him try."

"Who do you think you are?" he spat.

I glanced at him over my shoulder.

"I already told you who I am. If you don't know, that's your downfall." I pulled the talwar from its home. "It won't take much effort to cut you down."

"You do, and the emperor will have your head."

I shrugged. "I'd gladly give my head for a good cause. And it seems like ridding you from the world would be a fantastic benefit to everyone."

"Darbaran, just go," Anam said, her voice low. Then she put her hand on my arm. "Leave him. He's not worth it."

Darbaran's beady eyes slid to her and then back to me, and for a moment we just stared at each other with steel in our hands.

"I'll leave," he said finally, sliding his scimitar back. "But not because you've avoided punishment. It's because I have other duties to attend to. Don't think I've forgotten this."

I rolled my eyes.

"I, on the other hand, have already forgotten you before you've even left." I smiled sweetly, enjoying the way his face turned a mottled red before he marched through the doorway of the garden terrace and disappeared.

"You shouldn't have mocked him like that," Anam said quietly, coming to stand beside me. A shaft of sunlight lit her hair from behind, making a faint hint of red come out. Mazin had that same tint to his hair, and sometimes I found myself staring at the multitude of shades in the sunset. "He does have influence at the palace."

"Why?" I frowned, thinking he couldn't be much older than Maz. "He seems too young to be captain of the guard. What happened to Hassan?"

"Hassan was fired—Darbaran took his place. He's the son of a friend of the emperor—a prison warden. I think the emperor enjoys having people be in his pocket so he doesn't have to question their loyalty." Anam's voice was a whisper, and she bit the edge of her lip as if she couldn't believe she'd said those words herself.

I certainly couldn't believe she said them.

"Why, Anam, that's as close to treason as I've ever heard from you." I threw her a smile, knowing she knew my opinion of the emperor. Since Maz had confessed to me what Vahid did, my ire for Vahid had only increased.

I had never spoken to Anam about it and had no idea if she knew Emperor Vahid had killed her mother. I assumed Maz would tell her in time.

I walked back to my chair on the terrace and sat down. Anam settled beside me, and I stared at the mark on her arm that would be a bruise tomorrow. One that she might have to explain to her brother. She poured us some hibiscus tea and then took a long sip.

"But in all seriousness, where is that dagger I gave you? You shouldn't have to put up with boys like him."

She smiled and relief shot through me after seeing her fear when Darbaran had his hands on her.

"I didn't wear it today." She looked down at her silver suit, the blouse light and floaty with small mirrors embroidered in a floral pattern. Her straight trousers were threaded with dark blue beads in a similar pattern. "It didn't go with my outfit."

I stared at her. "A knife goes with every outfit."

"You only say that because you clearly pick your outfits based on your knives. Most people do it the other way around."

"I do not," I huffed, looking down at the rust-colored kameez my father insisted I wear for the palace. If I could get away with wearing my simple training kurta to the palace, I would. Especially because Maz and I usually ended up sparring in the training field with his friends anyway. The talwar I brought was one of Baba's most beautiful ones, with gleaming emeralds set in the handle. It offset the dark red of my outfit perfectly.

I frowned. "Hm. I guess I do match."

"You always do!" Anam collapsed against the divan.

"What was that about?" I made my voice serious. I didn't want to spook Anam if she wasn't ready to talk about whatever was happening between her and Darbaran. "Does Darbaran always talk to you like that?"

"Oh, that was nothing. Darbaran wanted me to join him in the gallery. But I told him I was meeting you for luncheon."

I watched her. "That wasn't the first time he tried to force you to do something you didn't want to do." I inclined my head. There was a familiarity in the way they dealt with each other.

"Yes, and next time I will have my dagger with me." She nodded, a little smile on her lips. "Don't worry so much about it."

"Should I be mentioning this to your brother?"

She sat up. "Absolutely not. He will just get even more impossible and protective than he already is. I won't be allowed to leave my room at this rate."

"Learn to defend yourself and you can prove you don't need any protection," I said reasonably. "Maz isn't the type to cage you in."

"He isn't, but he believes the same as you. I should learn to fight. But I'm not like the two of you, I have no interest in fighting."

"Yes, but do you have an interest in staying alive?" I took a sip of the tea and Anam grabbed one of the biscuits sprinkled with candied pistachio and took a large bite.

"Why should I, when you are nearby?" she said, speaking between mouthfuls.

"If he does anything else, tell me," I said firmly. "I don't like him."

"I promise, I'll tell you." She looked toward the garden, avoiding my eyes. "Just don't tell my brother what happened today."

"Tell me what?"

Maz walked onto the terrace wearing the same black sherwani as Darbaran, but it looked crisper, more refined. As if wrinkles and dust didn't dare land on him.

"About her taking up her training again," I said smoothly, meeting Anam's pleading gaze. I didn't make eye contact with Maz—he'd have been able to tell I was lying. "She's grown lax."

Mazin sighed. "She won't listen to me anymore." He looked at Anam with a stern expression. "We might not always have the protection of the palace, you know."

She gave a loud sigh. "You worry too much. No one can touch us behind these walls."

"I bet the king thought that too," I said, taking a sip of my tea.

"Yes, but he didn't have the power of the djinn."

I raised my glass to her. "True."

Anam crossed her arms and glared up at her brother. "What are you so worried about, anyway?"

"We can't always assume we will have this forever, Anam." He spread his hands out, gesturing at the palace. I knew they had come from a small village, and he told me about the poverty he had grown up with. Anam had been a baby when the emperor had taken them in and didn't remember.

"You can't depend on always having protection." His eyes looked haunted. I flexed my hand, nearly reaching for the hilt of my knife again. It made me want to stab someone, imagining what he went through when his parents died, knowing he was the only one who could look after his sister, realizing he had no choice but to depend on Vahid.

Maz lived as if any moment, his safety could be taken from him.

"I agree with your brother that you should go back to your training, but I disagree with him on one thing." I sidled up to Anam.

Maz cocked his head in my direction. "And what is that?" His voice was irritated, but I was glad it had replaced the bitterness.

I raised my glass and winked at Anam. "You can assume you will have me protecting your back forever."