Girl, Serpent, Thorn(12)

But Ramin wasn’t even looking at her anymore—he was focused on Azad, who was standing stiffly, not moving or speaking. Ramin moved closer, coming to stand directly in front of him. Only then did Azad take a breath, his shoulders drawing back so that he was standing at his full height. There was a strange energy surrounding Azad, like clouds gathering before a storm, or the stillness of a snake about to strike. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

“You’re that villager we brought back,” Ramin said. He lifted his chin, his arms crossed, and nodded at Azad in approval. “You proved yourself to us all that day, so let me give you some advice, from one soldier to another: stay away from this one.”

Azad tilted his head slightly, his long neck moving with slow, deliberate grace. “I don’t think I need your advice,” he said.

“Ramin, this isn’t necessary,” Soraya interrupted, trying to keep her voice calm.

Ramin looked directly at Soraya, disdain curling his lip, and said, “I don’t need to hear from you, Soraya. You’re not part of this conversation.”

There was a sudden cracking sound—the snake had struck at last. Soraya barely even saw Azad’s fist move, but it must have, because now Ramin was sprawled on the grass, rubbing his jaw.

And for the first time since Ramin had approached them, Azad looked away from him and turned to Soraya. “I’m sorry,” he said at once, but his eyes were still burning with anger, his hand still closed into a fist.

Soraya felt that strange energy wrap around her now, the two of them practically trembling with it. And she realized that her hand was also a fist, like she had struck Ramin herself, like Azad had become an extension of her. He was the arm of her anger, lashing out when she could not. He was the force of her rage, unbound.

She looked Azad in the eye and shook her head. “Don’t be,” she said, with a firmness that surprised her.

Ramin pushed himself up from the ground, a dark bruise already starting to appear on his jaw. “That was a mistake,” he said to Azad. Ramin started to charge toward him, but Soraya threw herself in between them, forcing Ramin to come to a sudden stop directly in front of her.

And now Soraya was the snake, her venom far deadlier than Azad’s, and she wanted nothing more than to strike. She took a step toward Ramin, gratified when he took a hurried step back, a flash of fear in his eyes.

But the flash quickly transformed into a triumphant glint, and Soraya knew what was about to happen even as she knew she couldn’t stop it.

“Don’t think me a coward,” he said to Azad over Soraya’s shoulder. “I would fight you right here, but you have an unfair advantage. This girl is poisonous—cursed by a div. If you ever touch her, you’ll die.”

All the blood drained out of her as Ramin spoke, and she felt like she was made of ice, cold enough to burn. Soraya was glad her back was to Azad, in case her veins were visible. Something familiar was bubbling inside her—the same cruel urge that had made her want to hurt Ramin the night before. And as she had done last night, she swallowed the urge down and tried not to choke.

Ramin smirked at her in satisfaction and walked away. Laleh wasn’t enough for him, Soraya thought. He won’t be content until I’m completely alone.

Even when Ramin was gone, Soraya couldn’t face Azad. “It’s true,” she called back to him, the words scraping her throat. “That’s the secret you’ve always wanted to know. The mysterious shahzadeh was cursed by a div when she was just an infant, and that’s why she must be hidden away. If you touch me, you’ll die.”

She turned to him, knowing from the feel of blood rushing through her that her veins were etched dark green in her face. Azad was watching her, his face solemn, his eyes sad.

“Well,” she said, holding her gloved hands out to him, “am I still your favorite story?”





5


In a way, Soraya was relieved that Ramin had told Azad her secret. She had liked Azad’s version of her too much—it would have been hard to walk away from it. Let Azad be the one to walk away, then, and let him do it now, before she grew too attached.

But even as her half-taunting question still hung in the air, Azad didn’t back away. He came closer to her, so close that she saw the stubble along his jaw. He tilted his head, brown curls falling over his forehead. “You’re better than any story, shahzadeh banu … Soraya,” he murmured. She barely heard him, but she watched his lips form her name. He gave a slight, disbelieving shake of his head, as if surprised by the depth of his emotion. “In my mind, you were only a shadow. But now, I can see you and know you for what you are, beautiful yet deadly. I can speak to you. I can touch you.” Slowly, tentatively, he reached up to draw her hair away from her face, revealing more of the veins spreading out along her neck like vines. Beautiful yet deadly, he had called her. Somehow, he made one sound as sweet as the other.

But as intoxicated as she was by his words and his nearness, Soraya remembered herself and drew back from him, her hair spilling out of his hand. “Now you understand why you should keep away from me,” she said, but she wasn’t remotely convincing to herself, let alone to him.

She needed to put distance between them, so she turned and cut a path through the rest of the orchard, not looking behind to see if he would follow.

She hoped so much that he would follow.