Girl, Serpent, Thorn(80)

It was such a blatant lie that Soraya nearly told him about Parisa’s visit just to catch him in it. But she had made that mistake once before, and she kept her anger—and her tongue—in check as he led her to his treasury, the only room with a lock on the door.

“You can’t keep me here,” she said, attempting to pull out of his grip as they neared the door. “There’s no bed.”

“You’ve seen for yourself that there are plenty of rugs that you can pile up.”

“What about food?”

“You’ll be fine until morning. Sleep, and the time will pass quickly.”

He unlocked the door and dragged Soraya across the threshold.

“But what if I—”

He silenced her with a finger against her lips. “Think of this as a test of your loyalty to me. Because if this is another ploy, Soraya—if I discover that you’re deceiving me in any way—then there will be no more bargains or exchanges. I will slaughter your family in front of you as easily as I slaughtered mine.”





26


Soraya’s mother had told her once that it was almost a day’s journey from the city where she had spent her childhood to Golvahar. And so Soraya knew she had roughly from sunrise to sunset to figure out what she should do once she arrived at the palace.

Sometime before dawn, Azad had retrieved her from the treasury and brought her to the entryway of the mountain. As promised, a golden litter awaited her there, along with two smaller divs on horseback. Once Soraya was in the litter, and the litter securely attached to the horses, Azad took off, promising to greet Soraya at journey’s end.

And what would she do when she reached her destination? The simorgh was chained up inside the mountain. The pariks were hiding somewhere in the forest. Her family and Parvaneh were imprisoned. What had Soraya managed to accomplish during her time here? She cursed herself now for not simply plucking one of the simorgh’s feathers when she had the chance, but some part of her knew that nothing good would have come from such a theft. The feather had to be granted freely or not at all.

As they traveled through the scattered woodland of the mountain steppe, and the sun began to rise, Soraya saw city walls in the distance to the south. That was where her mother had been born, where she had returned one day after meeting a div in these same woods. She imagined what it would have been like to grow up there, in the shadow of Arzur, constantly under threat of a div raid. Her mother had lived so close to danger all her life—it was no wonder, then, that she had seen Soraya’s curse as a reasonable price to pay for her safety.

When they moved closer, Soraya noticed the large gaps in the mud-brick walls, where something had battered it down. She wondered if it was from a recent attack, or if the people there had simply given up repairing it over the years, knowing that the divs were so near.

They stopped when the sun was at its highest overhead. There was still enough grass for the horses to graze, and so the div in front unlatched the litter and led the horses out to where the grass was thicker. Soraya wondered if they planned to feed her, too.

She tentatively stepped out of the litter, unsure if she would be allowed to do so, but wanting to stretch her legs.

“Don’t worry,” said a thin, reedy voice from behind the litter. “We have food for you as well.”

The div came toward her and held a basket out to her. Soraya hadn’t been able to look closely at the divs accompanying her in the morning, when it had still been dark, and so she was struck motionless. The div standing before her resembled a human in appearance—more accurately, she resembled a human corpse, wrapped in a gauzy white garment like a shroud. Her hair was long, gray, and stringy, her skin sallow and leathery, worn tight over protruding bones. A familiar smell accompanied her—familiar, because it reminded Soraya of the dakhmeh. A name formed in her mind, but she didn’t dare speak it.

With a nervous bob of her head, Soraya took the basket and retreated back to the litter.

“You don’t have to stay in there, either,” the div said. “We both know that if you run, I’ll catch you.”

Soraya didn’t want to admit that she found the div’s appearance unsettling—more so than any of the beastlike divs she had seen in Arzur—and so she remained standing while the div regarded her with an amused expression.

“You’ve been to the dakhmeh,” the div said. She leaned forward and sniffed the air. “I can smell it on you.”

Soraya’s stomach clenched, and finally she gathered the courage to say, “You’re Nasu, aren’t you?”

The div only smiled, pleased to be known and named.

And yet now that she had this confirmation, Soraya felt no fear—only confusion. “Why do you follow him?” she asked.

Nasu’s eyes widened in surprise at the abrupt question. “The Shahmar?”

“You’re one of the most feared and powerful divs among humans,” Soraya said. “How did the Shahmar come to inspire such loyalty among divs that you would all follow his commands and treat him like a shah?”

Nasu reflected a moment, and then she said, “If you’ve been to the dakhmeh, then you understand the nature of scavengers—vultures, jackals, and the like. Why hunt for prey when someone else will do it for you, and you can enjoy the spoils? The Shahmar has his uses. He thinks that without him, divs would have no purpose, and he’s wrong about that. But he understands human instinct, and he knows how to exploit human weaknesses.” She gave Soraya a pointed look, and Soraya’s face warmed with shame. “We simply go through the doors that he breaks down for us,” Nasu continued. “And if he wants us to bow our heads as he passes in return, it’s a small enough price to pay. It’s become a bit of a joke among us, the way he believes in such human formalities.”