Traitor to the Throne (Rebel of the Sands, #2)(105)

And then my arms were around him. Relief wracked through my body. ‘Thank you.’ I pulled him close.

But Tamid didn’t return the gesture. He pulled away. ‘I’m not a traitor, Amani. I didn’t do it’ – his eyes went to Jin – ‘for your rebellion.’ The only time Tamid had met Jin he’d been pulling me up onto a Buraqi while I left Tamid bleeding in the sand. My guess was that wouldn’t particularly endear him to my childhood friend.

‘Well, then.’ Shazad clapped a hand on his shoulder, as I swallowed the lump in my throat. ‘I guess we’ll be keeping both you and the princess under lock and key for a while. Come on.’

‘Where are we?’ I asked finally, glad my voice sounded normal as we started towards the door leading out of the kitchen and into the house.

‘My house,’ Shazad said. I tripped on the bottom step of the kitchen. Jin steadied me. ‘My father is away and I sent my mother and my brother to our house on the coast. I didn’t want to put them in danger.’

‘We’re camping out in General Hamad’s house?’ I asked.

‘No.’ Jin’s hand was at the base of my back. ‘That would be like asking to get caught. We are using it, but most of the camp—’ He winced as he reached for the door, grasping his side. I opened it for him. A fine dining room, dark now, waited on the other side. ‘There’s a garden, not far from here,’ Jin explained as we crossed slowly. ‘It’s linked to this house by a tunnel.’

Jin led me through another door, his hand looping tighter on my waist. I realised he’d scarcely let me go since we’d left the palace. We were propping each other up.

The tunnel started in the cellar, behind two huge boxes that were labelled as being flour but that sounded a lot like guns when I disturbed one of them as we pushed by. Shazad struck an oil lamp to life and led the way.

I wasn’t sure how far we walked. It was more than twice the length of Dustwalk, though. I counted my paces for that long before giving up. And then a pinprick of light appeared ahead of us. Another door, I realised.

I hesitated. Dozens of memories of coming home to the Dev’s peace flooded in. Of standing outside the door in the cliff face, and waiting for it to let me leave the desert dust and come home. That was gone now. That home wouldn’t be waiting for me on the other side of this door. It wouldn’t spill open onto an oasis that had been built out of magic and turned into the Rebellion’s refuge. The people who had died in our escape wouldn’t be on the other side waiting for me. I didn’t know what to expect. But I wanted to come home all the same.

I stepped through.

It was quieter than the old camp. That was the first thing I noticed. And I realised why in an instant. The huge walls that stretched up around the property might block everything from sight except the sky, but we were still in the middle of a city. There were ears all around.

But the place was still blazing with light and with movement.

It wasn’t the desert, but the memory of the desert was still there. Tents were scattered among the campfires and a makeshift armoury had been set up against one of the walls. Lanterns and laundry crisscrossed patterns over the sky. It almost looked like hope.

‘Amani!’ Delila was the first person to see me. She was sprinting across the garden and flung her arms around me, pulling me from Jin’s grip. ‘You’re alive! They got you out! What happened to your hair? I like it, though! You look older. I wanted to come and help, too, but no one would let me.’

I realised as she pushed her hair behind her ears that it looked darker. And not just by some trick of the light or because of an illusion she was casting. It had been dyed black with henna, hiding the telltale Demdji purple. A safety measure in the big city. Ahmed was taking no risks with his little sister.

‘We’ve been over this,’ Shazad said. ‘We need to keep one of you two in the camp at all times just in case we need to hide it.’ She gestured between Delila and Hala, who smiled tightly.

‘And somehow I’m always the expendable one.’

‘Nice to see you, too, little sister,’ Jin joked as she pulled away from me. With a foolish grin Delila flung herself at Jin. I was sure the greeting I was getting was a pale shadow in comparison to what Jin had had when he finally returned.

Navid was on us, grabbing Imin, still in the bloody servant’s garb, in a tight embrace. All those days with Imin roaming the palace and no news couldn’t have been easy on Navid. But Imin had been right – the beard didn’t suit him.

And then I was being passed from hand to hand, friends and rebels I barely knew alike patting me on the back, hugging me, congratulating me on staying alive. On escaping. Thanking me for my sacrifice when I’d stayed so long in the harem. The twins turned into two cats and twined themselves around my legs, almost tripping me with every step I took. I felt like a piece of myself was being returned to me with every person, pulling me out of the harem, pulling away the grief over Shira, the anger over my aunt, everything that had happened in the last few months, as I slipped from one hand to another.

And then like the parting of a curtain I was standing face-to-face with Ahmed. I was sure that every moment of doubt I’d had in the past months, all of it, was scrawled across my traitor eyes. Every time I’d seen his father decide more quickly. Every time I’d feared that the Sultan was right and Ahmed wasn’t ready. Every time I’d been stupid enough to listen to a murderer and a tyrant.