Girl, Serpent, Thorn(22)

She hadn’t returned to Parvaneh since receiving her impossible bargain. It was pointless—a dead end when the path had barely begun. She didn’t know where the simorgh’s feather was, and even if she did, she could never hand it over to a div.

She tried to put it out of her head, but every time she pulled on the new, unfamiliar pair of gloves that was slightly too large for her hands, she would remember the glow of Parvaneh’s eyes, and the price she had demanded. And she knew that even though she couldn’t move forward, she could no longer go back, either. She could never return to a time before she’d spoken to the div, a time before knowing that there was a way to remove her curse.

I could ask Sorush, she thought for the hundredth time as she climbed the hill to the fire temple. Sorush knew where the feather was, and so did the high priest, who even now was probably in the fire temple. It made her want to scream a little, knowing she was about to be alone with the only two people who could tell her what she needed to know, and yet she couldn’t ask either one of them without explaining why.

The sun was just rising as she reached the fire temple. Compared to the grandeur of the palace, the temple seemed misplaced in its simplicity: a round, domed roof over four stone columns forming a square, with an arch on each side. Soraya rarely came here, not only because of the location, but because of what had happened the last time she had come to the fire temple.

Shortly after the butterfly incident, Soraya had come by herself to the temple to pray—to apologize to the Creator for harming one of his creatures. The high priest at that time overheard her talking about her curse, and he told her that the Creator would not hear her prayers, because she did not belong to him—that anything venomous or deadly belonged to the Destroyer. His logic was too sound for her to disagree, and so she had never returned. It gave her some comfort to know that the priest had later been found guilty of some treasonous act and had been scheduled for execution, though he had escaped in the end, never to be heard from again. Even he knows where the feather is, Soraya thought bitterly.

The current high priest did not know about her curse, and so when she stepped into the temple, he simply smiled at her and bowed his head, his hair as white as his long robes. He and another, younger priest stood beside the Royal Fire, which burned in an urn on top of a stone pedestal in the center of the temple. There were many other sacred fires in many other temples throughout Atashar, all honoring the Creator, but only the Royal Fire had been ritually created from several sources, including lightning sent from the Creator himself. An iron grate enclosed the pedestal, and only a priest was allowed to open the grate and tend to the Fire, which never went out. The younger priest poured some esfand onto the flames now, and the smell of it filled the air.

Soraya stood uncomfortably near the temple entrance, still hearing the former high priest’s gravelly voice confirming all her worst fears. You don’t belong here in this temple, he had told her. You belong somewhere like the pit of Duzakh, where the Destroyer dwells among wicked spirits. Or even better—the dakhmeh, where the yatu seek refuge, where the vultures fly overhead, hungry for human flesh, where the div Nasu spreads death and corruption. Because isn’t that what you do, shahzadeh? Aren’t you made for death?

The words kept playing over and over again in Soraya’s head, and she was thankful when she heard Sorush’s steps behind her.

Sorush approached the high priest and spoke to him in a low voice. The priest looked from Sorush to Soraya, then nodded, and he and the other priest stepped outside the temple, leaving the two of them alone.

With the priests gone, Soraya was better able to relax, and she came to join Sorush in front of the iron grate, the fire crackling inside it.

“Did you learn anything new?” Sorush asked her quietly, his eyes locked on the fire.

Soraya had already decided what she would tell him—and what she would omit. “I think there may be some kind of animosity between the pariks and the other divs—or at least between this parik and the others,” she reported.

Sorush nodded. “That could be useful. I thought it was strange that I’ve never seen a div like her before on the battlefield. But if they’re not all aligned with one another, that would make sense.”

“There’s something else,” Soraya said. “She said it’s true that the divs are more united now than they have been, but that the question we should be asking is who united them. She might be lying, though. She guessed that I was digging for information.”

Sorush frowned in thought as he stared deep into the fire. “Did you learn anything else?”

“I tried asking what she meant by that, but she wouldn’t tell me anything more.”

“No,” Sorush said, turning to look at her. “I meant about your curse.”

She had hoped he wouldn’t ask, so she wouldn’t have to lie directly. But she couldn’t tell him what Parvaneh had asked for, because then he would always wonder if she would accept those terms and betray him for her own sake. “No,” she said, looking away from him. “I don’t know if there’s any point in going back.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw him nod. “I understand if you don’t. But if you do, and she tells you anything else, please send word to me.”

“Of course,” Soraya said, and to her surprise, she found herself disappointed that her mission would be over so soon. She would miss feeling useful.