Girl, Serpent, Thorn(36)

In the stars of the bloodstained blanket, she saw her choice laid out in front of her. She could choose to cut these ties that had never done anything but strangle her so that she could be free to live the life she had always wanted. All she needed was a feather to drain this poison that her mother had given her.

With shaking hands, Soraya folded the blanket under her arm and left the room, not bothering to replace the tapestry on the wall. Her blood pounded a relentless rhythm throughout her whole body as she made her way back to her room, the path ahead of her clearer than it ever had been. She felt like she’d been struck by lightning, and now there was a fire crackling all through her. If she waited too long to take the feather, then the fire would go out, and she would become nothing but ashes before she could lift her curse. It had to be today, before she could talk herself out of it. Everyone would be in the garden, including the priests, which meant that the fire temple would be unguarded.

In her room, Soraya hid the blanket deep under her bed, then rummaged through her gardening tools for the urn she used to water the roses. She filled it with water from the pool in the golestan and went out through the garden door—and nearly tripped over Azad’s outstretched legs.

Some of the water in the urn sloshed as she recovered her balance. Azad had been sitting with his back against the garden wall, and he leaped to his feet at the sight of Soraya. “I’ve been waiting here all morning, hoping to see you,” he said. “I wanted to check on you after last night.”

“I’m fine,” she said flatly, and kept walking.

He followed, of course, and she knew it wouldn’t take him long to realize what she was carrying and where she was going. “Shouldn’t you be in the gardens for the wedding?” she said.

“I don’t care about the wedding. Soraya, what are you doing? Did something happen?”

He took hold of her arm, forcing her to stop if she didn’t want to spill more water. She looked up at him, wondering how much to tell him. He might find her plan abhorrent—treasonous, even— but he had seen the worst of her last night, and he had stayed by her side. And in any case, he would know soon enough.

She looked around them to make sure no one was listening. The air was pungent with meat and herbs, flowers, and spices, but this part of the grounds was empty today—everyone was either inside the palace or in the gardens. “I’m going to the fire temple,” she said. “I’m going to free myself.”

He held her gaze, and then he shook his head slowly and said, “Whenever I think I finally know you, you surprise me. But Soraya, are you sure this is what you want? Your family—”

“My family did this to me,” she snapped, clutching the handles of the urn so hard her knuckles hurt. “My mother had me cursed and lied to me about it for years. So tell me, what do I owe my family? My loyalty? My affection? When have they ever given me either of those? They sacrificed my life and my freedom—I’m only taking back what they stole from me.”

For the first time in their acquaintance, Azad looked scared of her. His hand dropped from her arm and he took a step back, his mouth falling open in shock. But then he spoke, and she understood that she wasn’t the cause of his growing horror. “Your mother did this to you?” he said. “Did she tell you why?”

“No,” Soraya replied. “I haven’t spoken to her. I don’t want to speak to her. All she’s ever done is lie to me.”

“I understand,” Azad said, stepping closer to her again. “Trust me, I know that anger. I’ve felt it before. But are you sure you want to do this? Are you ready for the consequences?”

“Yes,” she said at once, but truthfully, she hadn’t thought much of the consequences. She wanted to strike now, without worrying about what came after. The yatu had been sentenced to death for attempting to put out the fire. Soraya knew she would receive no less severe a punishment—unless she escaped, as he had. “Yes,” she said again. “I want this. And then I want to leave Golvahar and never come back.” She shifted the urn’s weight to rest in the crook of one arm, and then shyly, uncertainly, she put her gloved hand on Azad’s chest, fingers curling over his heart. “Would you come with me?” she asked him in a whisper.

She didn’t know what she was asking—for him to come to the temple with her, or to run away with her, or to stay by her side for as long as she wanted him. All of them, she supposed. The idea of freeing herself from her curse only to lose Azad seemed cosmically unjust when he was the one person she wanted to touch most of all.

He took a hesitant breath, but Soraya knew he would agree. She knew he must feel the same bond that she felt, that unspoken promise from the dakhmeh. She had become a murderer to save his life—and in return, he had agreed that there was nothing she could do that would drive him away. They would rise or fall together.

“Soraya.” He put his hand over hers, and she felt the heat of his skin through the fabric of her gloves. “I dreamed of you for so long. I would do anything to be with you. Even this.”

“I know I’m asking much of you, to sacrifice your position so soon after you earned it.”

He shook his head. “I’ve already learned how suddenly that can be taken away. I lost my family and my social standing a long time ago. I have nothing else to lose now—except for you.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her gloved fingers, a promise of things to come.