This Woven Kingdom(This Woven Kingdom #1)(85)

It brought her unexpected calm.

Still, Alizeh was not like the others who lived here. Her differences were many, but perhaps her most problematic was that she did not accept, without question, the greatness of the Ardunian empire. She did not accept that the Fire Accords had been an unmitigated act of mercy. In some ways, yes, they had been a kindness, but only because most everyone had longed for an end to the millenia-long strife between the races.

It was precisely why her people had conceded.

Jinn had grown tired of living in fear, of having their homes set aflame, of watching their friends and families hunted and massacred. Mothers on both sides had grown tired of receiving the mutilated bodies of their children from the battlefield. The pain of the endless bloodshed had reached its pinnacle, and though both sides desired peace, their mutual hatred could not be unlearned overnight.

The Accords had been enacted under the banner of unity—a plea for cohesion, for harmony and understanding—but Alizeh knew them to be motivated entirely by military strategy. Enough Jinn had been slaughtered now that their remaining numbers were no longer considered a threat; by granting the survivors the veneer of safety and belonging, the king of Ardunia had effectively subdued, then absorbed into his empire, tens of thousands of the strongest and most powerful beings on earth, for whom a little known provision had been made: Ardunian Jinn were allowed to exercise their natural abilities only during wartime, and only on the battlefield. Four years all capable citizens were required to serve in the empire’s army, and newly absorbed Jinn were not exempt.

All of Ardunia thought King Zaal a generous, just ruler, but Alizeh could not put her faith in such a man. He had, with a single, cunning decree, not only absolved Clay of all atrocities against Jinn, but rendered himself magnanimous, added to his armies a flood of supernatural recruits, and stripped ice-blooded Jinn any right to their constituents.

“All right, then,” Deen said brightly. “All done, miss.”

His lively tone was so unexpected Alizeh turned at once to look at him, surprise coloring her voice. “Is it good news?” she asked.

“Yes, miss, your skin has restored itself exceptionally well. I must say—those salves were of my own making, so while I know their many strengths, I’m also aware of their limits, and I’ve never known them to be responsible for such rapid healing.”

Alizeh felt a bolt of fear move through her at that declaration, and she quickly withdrew her hands, studying them now in the sun-soaked room. She’d only changed her bandages once since she was last here, and only in the dead of night, overcome by exhaustion, her effort lit by the dim glow of a single candle. Now Alizeh studied her hands in amazement. They were soft and unblemished, no damage, not a scar to be found.

She dropped her hands in her lap, clenched them tight.

Alizeh had often wondered how she’d survived so many illnesses on the street, how she’d recovered over and over even when pushed to the brink of death. Fire, she knew she could withstand—it was the deep frost in her body that repelled it—but she’d never before had such irrefutable evidence of her body’s strength.

She looked up at the apothecarist then, her eyes wide with something like panic.

Deen’s smile had begun to fade. “Forgive me my ignorance, miss, but as I do not treat many Jinn, I’ve little basis for comparison. Is this—is this kind of healing uncommon among your kind?”

Alizeh wanted to lie, but worried the misinformation would adversely affect his treatment of what few Jinn did seek his aid. Softly, she said, “It is rare.”

“And I take it you were, until now, unaware you were capable of such swift healing?”

“I was.”

“I see,” he said. “Well, I suppose we should accept it, then, as an unexpected stroke of good luck, which is no doubt long overdue.” He attempted a smile. “I think you are more than ready to remove the bandages, miss. You need not worry on that account.”

“Yes, sir. I thank you,” Alizeh said, moving to stand. “How much do I owe you for the visit?”

Deen laughed. “I did nothing but remove your bandages and announce aloud what your own eyes might’ve easily witnessed. You owe me nothing.”

“Oh, no, you’re too generous—I’ve taken up your time, certainly I sho—”

“Not at all.” He waved her away. “It was but five minutes at most. Besides, I’ve been awaiting your arrival all this day, and have already been paid handsomely for the trouble.”

Alizeh froze. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your friend asked me to wait for you,” the shopkeeper said, frowning slightly. “Was he not the essential reason you came in today?”

“My friend?” Alizeh’s heart had begun to pound.

“Yes, miss.” Deen was looking at her strangely now. “He came in this morning—rather a tall fellow, wasn’t he? He wore an interesting hat and had quite the most vivid blue eyes. He was insistent that you would come, and asked me not to close my shop, not even to take lunch, as I often do. He asked that I please deliver you this”—Deen held up a finger, then disappeared below the counter to retrieve a large, unwieldy package—“when you finally arrived.”

Carefully, the shopkeeper settled the heavy, pale yellow box onto the worn surface of the workbench, which he then slid across to her. “I thought for certain he’d informed you of his visit here,” Deen was saying, “for he seemed terribly confident you would come today.” A pause. “I do hope I’ve not startled you.”