Girl, Serpent, Thorn(19)

“I agree with our mother’s judgment,” Sorush finally said. “I must ask that you not enter the dungeon or speak to the div again.”

Soraya didn’t trust herself to speak. Her mother said, “It’s the right choice, Soraya,” but Soraya kept her eyes down, unable to look at either of them.

“I’d like to speak to you alone, if I may, in a less formal setting,” Sorush said. Soraya hated the way he phrased commands as if they were requests—as if she had any choice in the matter. It was as false a pretense as the crown floating a hair’s breadth above his head.

“Of course,” Soraya murmured.

“Please wait for me there,” he said, stretching his arm toward a door to the side of the chamber.

Soraya walked with heavy steps to the door, which opened onto what seemed to be a council room. A long table took up most of the unadorned chamber, and Soraya paced its length as she waited for her brother to join her.

At last he arrived, looking smaller now without his crown and his state robes, an apologetic smile on his face. Soraya turned away from him and continued to pace. She should have wished him a happy new year, or congratulated him on his engagement, but she was sure that anything she said to him now would be laced with poison.

“I know you’re probably upset with me, so let me say this first: I didn’t mean any of it.”

Soraya froze, turning her head toward him. “What?”

“I didn’t want to worry our mother, but I think you should speak to the div.”

Soraya turned to him fully now, forehead wrinkling in disbelief. “I have your permission?”

“Not … officially,” he said. “You found a way into the dungeon without anyone stopping you—I’m guessing you could do so again?”

Soraya nodded, but offered no further explanation.

“Then I would only ask you to keep your visits discreet. I’ll inform the guards that they shouldn’t bother you, but no one else should know. And I’d like to ask you a favor in return.”

Soraya started to tilt her head, but stopped herself, the gesture reminding her too much of Parvaneh. “What favor?”

Sorush went to a cabinet in the corner of the room and brought out a long roll of paper. He spread the paper out on the table in front of them, revealing a map of Atashar with red marks in various places. “Those marks,” he said, “are where the divs have attacked in the last few years. The attacks have grown more prevalent recently, but my larger concern is that they’ve become more organized and united. Div raids are usually swift and brutal, with no end other than destruction, but these have seemed deliberate or planned, and they’ve been more interested in fighting our armies than in ransacking the villages. It’s almost as if they’re practicing for something.”

His voice had grown more frantic as he spoke, his dark hair falling over his forehead, and he clutched the edge of the map as though he wished he could shake answers out of it. Gone was the polished image of the shah on his throne, no crown or burden too heavy. Now, Soraya saw only a boy who had become a king too soon.

“I need answers,” he said more quietly. “I could do so much more for this country if I didn’t have to keep worrying about the next battle.” He took a breath and held it a moment before continuing. “After he fell ill, our father told me of his plans, the reforms he hoped I could finish for him one day. He wanted to lessen some of the bozorgan’s control, to include commoners in higher positions of power, but he hadn’t been able to do so during his reign. That was his hope for me, but I’ve barely begun to broach the issue because with all these attacks, the nobility is starting to lose faith in me and I can’t afford to anger them, especially with the simorgh missing. Ever since she disappeared, there have been rumblings among the nobility that our family should no longer rule. That’s why—”

He stopped abruptly, and Soraya finished for him: “That’s why I’m a secret.” A miserable silence stretched between them as Sorush kept his eyes on the table, so Soraya spared them both and continued. “But what makes you think I can bring you answers? Why would the div tell me their plans?”

He looked up at her, eyes bright with hope. “Because you won’t be asking her for them. You have a completely different reason for being there, which means the div won’t be as guarded as she is with the azatan. I don’t want you to interrogate her, just to report back if she does reveal anything about the divs and their plans that we don’t already know. Will you do it?”

Soraya nodded at once. She had been so angry with him, and now he was giving her this chance, this gift. She was torn between wanting to apologize and wanting to thank him—but her pride would not allow her to do either, so instead she offered him a gift in return.

“She’s not just a div,” Soraya said. “She called herself a ‘parik.’” She told Sorush what Parvaneh had told her about the different kinds of divs, and that pariks were more human in appearance in order to work as spies. It wasn’t the answer Sorush was looking for, but he listened raptly, any knowledge better than none.

“In a week’s time, come to the fire temple at dawn,” he told her. “We’ll be alone, and you can tell me anything you’ve learned between now and then. And thank you, Soraya.”

Soraya wondered if she was supposed to return the thanks, or to somehow acknowledge the friendship they had shared in childhood. But her throat closed up whenever she prepared to speak, and so instead she said, “The soldier who accompanied me to the dungeon—you won’t punish him, will you?”