Traitor to the Throne (Rebel of the Sands, #2)(53)

There was only one man who stood apart from the circus. He was about of an age with Ahmed and Jin and wearing a spotless white-and-gold army uniform. He didn’t sit. Instead he stood, straight as a statue, arms clasped behind his back, eyes straight ahead like he was awaiting orders. There was a pang of familiarity as I looked at him that I couldn’t quite place.

At the head of the garden, raised above his court, was the Sultan. He lifted his eyebrows a tiny bit as he saw me. So he hadn’t known that his son had given me permission to leave the harem. Kadir sat at his right hand. Ayet was draped around her husband’s shoulders, wearing the same khalat I was, but in a glaring red with silver threads. She was there to be shown off and she knew it, too, twisting her bare back to the court, showing off the complicated henna designs that decorated her spine. At Kadir’s feet was Uzma, wearing the same garment in green across her tiny frame. I glanced around for Mouhna. She wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

Kadir pointedly rested his hand on the cushion to the opposite side of Ayet. I would’ve given just about anything to not have to sit there. But I didn’t have that choice.

An attendant busied herself arranging the long hem of my khalat around me so I was entirely covered. Kadir dismissed her with a wave of the hand. As soon as she was gone I stuck my bare foot out from under the hem. It wasn’t much, but it was the best I could manage, as small acts of defiance went. I caught the eye of the the man in military clothes as I looked up. He was watching me, hiding a smile behind his hand, pretending to scratch his eyebrow.

‘Kadir.’ The Sultan spoke across me, low enough that the rest of the court couldn’t hear. ‘Do you not have enough of your own women to keep you entertained?’

‘I would have, Father.’ Something silent passed between Kadir and the Sultan that I didn’t understand. ‘But I seem to have misplaced one of them.’ He must mean Mouhna. I remembered what Leyla had said about women disappearing from the harem all the time. Like her mother had. ‘I needed one more to complete my Mirajin set.’ Kadir reached out and ran a hand lazily along one of the scars on my back. My body shuddered angrily in response.

The way the Sultan smiled would’ve fooled the rest of the court into thinking he was having the most genial conversation with his son. ‘Lay that hand on her again and you will lose it.’ I felt an unexpected surge of gratitude towards the Sultan for coming to my defence. I quashed it. It was his fault I was here, unable to defend myself.

The Sultan straightened. ‘Bring in the first petitioner.’ He raised his voice, coming to stand at the gate that led into the court.

‘Commander Abbas Al-Abbas,’ a servant announced. ‘Of the Eleventh Command.’

The soldier who came in bowed low before speaking. ‘Your Exalted Honour. I have come to plead for a release from my command.’

‘This is a serious request, in a time of war.’ The Sultan considered him. ‘It’s clearly not for lack of bravery that you wish to be relieved, or else you wouldn’t be here facing me.’ The soldier seemed to swell with pride for a moment at being called brave.

‘News has come from my father’s home. My brother, his heir, has been called by God to the Holy Order. My father has no other sons. If I don’t return, my sisters’ husbands will squabble for his land. I wish to go home to take my place as his heir.’

The Sultan considered him. ‘What do you think, Rahim?’ He was talking to the young soldier, the one who’d seemed familiar. Rahim. I knew his name. Leyla’s brother, I realised. The only one among the army of the Sultan’s sons that she truly considered her family. Sure enough, he had Leyla’s same clever, watchful eyes. Though Leyla’s years in the harem meant that I could see some of the paleness of their Gamanix mother in her. Years spent outside the palace walls had made Rahim look Mirajin through and through. It looked like he even shared some of his father’s stronger features with Ahmed.

‘I very much doubt my opinion could add anything you don’t already know, exalted Father.’ Rahim’s words were respectful, but there was something else there. I got the feeling the two were playing a game I didn’t quite understand.

‘Modesty has never suited you, Rahim.’ The Sultan went on, waving his hand. ‘I’m sure you have insights, having been a soldier for so long now. Share them.’

‘I think the eastern border is exposed and that the Eleventh Command needs a soldier leading them who wishes to lead,’ Rahim said. The Sultan didn’t speak again straight away. He was waiting for something else. A silent battle of wills crossed the court.

‘And’ – Rahim broke first – ‘the Holy Books teach us a man’s first duty is to his father.’

The Sultan smiled, like he’d won some victory. ‘Commander Abbas Al-Abbas. Your request is granted.’ The soldier’s shoulders sagged in relief. ‘You will be relieved of your command. Name your replacement and we will raise him up in your place.’

I forgot the next petitioner’s endless name and title almost before the man was done announcing it. Just like I forgot what he was asking for as soon as he started talking. One after another, the petitioners followed each other in front of the Sultan.

One man wanted money. The next wanted land. The next wanted more guards in his quarter of the city. Rebels, he reported, were multiplying among the dockworkers. The next wanted the Blue-Eyed Bandit brought to justice. He’d stolen his wife’s jewels and seduced his daughter, he reported.