Traitor to the Throne (Rebel of the Sands, #2)(54)

Well, if Sam was still alive to be muddying my name, I supposed that meant at least Shazad hadn’t skewered him on sight. Or he hadn’t bothered to deliver my message yet.

The Sultan listened patiently before asking the man what more he thought the throne could do about the Blue-Eyed Bandit. I watched him carefully as he spread his hands in sympathy. There was already a price on the Bandit’s head for his collaboration with the Rebel Prince, he explained, but no one had been able to find him. The man might as well be a spirit in the desert. Or a fiction.

I resented being called a fiction. But then, I’d resent being found out and tortured out of my mind like Sayyida a whole lot more. I was suddenly stupidly grateful to Sam, even if he did decide it wasn’t worth his time getting my message to Shazad.

My foot was falling asleep and I had to shift positions restlessly over and over to keep it from going dead altogether as one boring request followed the other.

I finally gave up all pretence and pulled my knees up to my chin, wrapping my arms around them to keep myself steady.

I was half-asleep by the time the man in chains appeared. Everybody who’d been wilting in the afternoon sun came alive again. ‘Aziz Al-Asif.’ The man in fine clothes who was leading the chained man took a bow as the servant announced him. ‘And his brother, Lord Huda Al-Asif.’

‘Your Exalted Highness.’ Aziz Al-Asif stooped low. ‘It is my deepest regret that I have come to ask that you condemn my brother to death. He has been conspiring to rebellion.’

‘Is that so.’ There was an amused edge to the Sultan’s voice. ‘Because that is not what my spies have reported to me. What they have reported to me is that you are power hungry and that you are the one conspiring to ally with my son’s rebellion. Which can only lead me to believe that you are lying to me in order for your brother to be executed. When he is gone, you can take sole ownership of the seat of your father’s lands.’ A rustle went around the garden. ‘Release Lord Huda.’ The Sultan gestured towards the two guards by the door. ‘And take young Aziz prisoner.’

‘Your Majesty,’ Aziz exclaimed loudly, ‘I have committed no crime!’

‘You have.’ The Sultan cut across him, and there was no mistaking the authority in his voice. ‘Attempting to kill your brother is a crime. Lying to your Sultan is a crime. Thinking that you can leverage my son’s rebellion to your own uses is not a crime but it is not something I will tolerate. Your execution will be at sunset, unless your brother sees fit to save you.’ The Sultan looked at Lord Huda, who was rubbing his wrists. He didn’t object. ‘Spread the word in the city, then,’ the Sultan said. ‘I want the men and women of Izman to see what it costs to try to betray their ruler.’

Suddenly I was standing back with Ahmed in his tent as he couldn’t make up his mind about Mahdi. As he refused to order an execution. As he failed to give a straight order. All I’d wanted was for him to make a goddamn decision. To be a ruler. A good one. A great one. A strong one.

The Sultan hadn’t even hesitated.

Aziz’s protests were still fading as the next person was called.

The day was heavy, and as the sun shifted, it turned its full glare onto us. I could feel sweat beading on my neck, running below my clothes. I could feel my eyes drifting shut as the midday heat started to prey on me. The only person who didn’t show he felt it was the Sultan.

‘Announcing Shazad Al-Hamad.’

I came awake as fast as if I’d been shot in the back. For a second I thought I’d dreamed it. That I’d really dozed off and imagined Shazad come to rescue me. But there, standing at the entrance to the garden, wearing a khalat the colour of a breaking dawn and that faint smile that meant she knew she was outsmarting someone, was Shazad.





Chapter 22

Shazad was here. Some of the fear that had been crouched in my chest since I’d woken up on a ship escaped. I could kiss Sam’s idiot face for getting my message to her.

‘Well,’ the Sultan said, ‘this is an unexpected honour.’

‘The honour is all mine, Your Exalted Highness.’ Her voice was so achingly familiar here in this strange place. It was the voice of a hundred nights in the camp and under desert skies, of conspiracy and treason and rebellion. ‘I have returned from my pilgrimage.’ She dropped to her knees. ‘I come to pay tribute to my most exalted Sultan and Sultim.’ She dropped into a low bow from her knees until her nose almost touched the ground. She was damn good at that. I supposed she had had sixteen years of practice before the Rebellion.

The Sultan considered her. ‘I thought perhaps you had come to enquire after the return of your father from the war front.’ If he meant to throw her off balance with a mention of General Hamad, he’d picked the wrong girl. Shazad started to answer, but I never heard what she said. A screech, like a knife across iron, split the sky, cutting her off.

The entire courtyard stilled. But something inside me woke up.

I knew that sound.

‘That’s a Roc.’ Prince Rahim said out loud what I was thinking. His eyes were on the sky and he was on his feet. ‘And nearby, too.’

‘In the city?’ Kadir scoffed, but he wasn’t leaning back so idly any more. ‘That’s ridiculous.’

‘Of course, brother.’ Rahim held himself like a soldier, his hand resting, out of some old habit, on a weapon that wasn’t there. ‘What would I possibly know – I’ve only been stationed in the mountains of Iliaz for half a decade. I only heard Rocs screaming every night while you were still sleeping in the harem by your mother. But you know better, I’m sure.’