Girl, Serpent, Thorn(85)
Parvaneh made a muffled sound of surprise as Soraya crashed into her, but it didn’t take her long to respond. Soraya had never initiated a kiss before, and so she was happy to let Parvaneh take control, one of her hands twisting in Soraya’s hair while the other guided her backward until Soraya’s back thudded against the cell bars. Soraya wrapped her arms around Parvaneh more tightly, as if she could absorb everything that was fearless about her into herself. She ran her thumb along the nape of Parvaneh’s neck, moving down to the space between her shoulder blades, that patch of skin she found so tempting.
They were pressed so tightly against each other that when Parvaneh withdrew, Soraya felt like a piece of her had been peeled away. But Parvaneh remained within the circle of Soraya’s arms, her own hands gripping the bars on either side of her, and she whispered into the crook of Soraya’s neck, “What were you going to say before?”
“When?” Soraya asked, breathless.
“Before I interrupted you. You said you were still with me, that you were still my … my what?”
It seemed ridiculous that she could still blush in her current position, and yet she felt an unmistakable heat warm her face. “I don’t remember,” she said.
Parvaneh lifted her head, eyes sparkling. “Liar. You’re still my friend? My ally? Tell me. We have no secrets in this dungeon.”
“Yours,” Soraya said, looking Parvaneh in the eye, as if the word were a challenge. “I was going to say I’m still yours.”
Parvaneh arched an eyebrow. “Interesting,” she said. She leaned in again, brushing her lips against Soraya’s shoulder. “And how long have you been mine?”
Soraya tugged lightly on Parvaneh’s hair, making Parvaneh look up. “It was when I healed your wings,” she said, “when I touched you for the first time.”
Parvaneh smiled in response, but the memory of using the feather made Soraya think of the captive simorgh.
“What’s wrong?” Parvaneh said, drawing away as she noticed Soraya’s suddenly rigid posture.
Soraya shook her head. “It’s always so easy to forget the rest of the world, or the passage of time, when I’m here with you. I have to go back before I’m discovered, but first I have to tell you what I’ve found.” She told Parvaneh everything then, from her discovery of the simorgh to her failed attempt at restoring her curse.
Parvaneh listened in rapt attention, and when Soraya was finished, she said, “I can do it. I can free the simorgh and return with her.”
“Not just her,” Soraya said. “The pariks, too—we need them all.”
Parvaneh went silent, her mouth a thin line. “I don’t know if they’ll listen to me,” she said at last. “Even with the simorgh, I don’t know if they’ll receive me again. I don’t think they’ll ever…” Her voice broke, leaving the thought unfinished.
Soraya held Parvaneh’s hands tightly in her own. “They will,” she said. “The day after you were captured, Parisa came to me and asked where you were. She said you’re still their sister.”
Parvaneh soaked the words in like they were moonlight, her eyes wide with longing. She straightened and said, “How much time do we have?”
“He said the execution would happen before sunset today.”
Parvaneh nodded, but her expression was serious. “It’s not much time.”
“I know,” Soraya said. “But even if”—even if I have to kill my brother first—you’re not back in time, we can still put an end to this.”
“I’ll make it in time,” Parvaneh promised. She kissed Soraya’s cheek and whispered in her ear, “And then I’ll deliver that bastard to you on his knees.”
* * *
It had been tempting to slip into the passageways from the dungeon—to let Golvahar hide her away until she disappeared. But her family was still beyond reach in the new wing, and if Azad found her missing, she may as well have condemned them all to death.
After watching Parvaneh fly away as a dark gray moth, Soraya returned to her room. As she made her careful way back through the golestan, she noticed that the garden had further expanded since she had last seen it—the vines and roses were now climbing up the palace walls. But she didn’t have time to contemplate this; almost immediately after she returned, her door opened, and it continued to open and close several more times over the course of the day.
First there was breakfast, and afterward the leopard-spotted div brought a very frightened human seamstress carrying an ornately embroidered gown. Azad had planned ahead, apparently, ordering the seamstress to make a new gown for Soraya using the measurements from the clothes in Soraya’s wardrobe. Now the seamstress nervously asked Soraya to try it on so she could make any adjustments.
Soraya didn’t bother arguing. She didn’t want the seamstress to be punished for her own stubbornness. The gown fell over her skin in waves of green and gold—the same colors as the dress she’d worn on Nog Roz, when she’d first spoken to Azad. He was feeling sentimental, apparently. When she looked closely at the pattern of the brocade, she flinched, causing the seamstress to prick her with a needle by accident. The pattern that repeated on the gown was of a rose entwined with a snake.
When the fitting was over, more human attendants were brought to bathe and groom her—and only then did Soraya realize the point of the gown. He’s acting like this is a wedding. An execution and a wedding together—they would be married in her brother’s blood.