Traitor to the Throne (Rebel of the Sands, #2)(55)
Kadir took a step towards Rahim. Rahim held his ground. Kadir was broader than his brother by a good bit. But as Rahim flexed his fists, I saw the scar across his hand. It reminded me of the scars on Jin’s knuckles.
Kadir’s hands were smooth. Rahim’s hands showed the signs of a fight.
The scream of the Roc came again, closer this time, pulling them apart. The gathered crowd, frozen a moment earlier, turned into chaos. Men started to run for cover, and the Sultan shouted orders to his soldiers, sending them towards the walls, unslinging guns as they went.
I didn’t move. I just stayed, craning my head backwards. Because I knew that scream. And then the shadow passed. Low enough to be seen clearly but high enough that it was out of the range of guns. As it soared overhead two huge blue wings obscured the sun, plunging the courtyard into shadow.
That wasn’t a Roc. It was Izz.
A bolt of excitement shot through me, taking me to my feet. Izz was here. In the city.
Something was trailing out behind Izz, scattering in his wake. For a second I thought they were white cloths. But as they flittered down in the wind, I saw they were paper; a rain of paper from the sky.
I reached up as soon as the first sheet came close enough and snatched it before it hit the ground.
Ahmed’s sun was printed at the top. I traced the lines of it the way I’d traced the ink on Jin’s chest so many times. Printed below it, in sloppy black ink, it said:
A NEW DAWN. A NEW DESERT.
We call for Sultan Oman Al-Hasim Bin
Izman of Miraji to step down from his throne and stand trial for treason.
Sultan Oman is accused of these crimes against Miraji and its people:
Subjecting his country to unfit foreign rule in the form of the Gallan army
Untried execution of parties accused of violating Gallan law
Persecution of his own people without just cause
Persecution of Mirajin citizens for unproven Djinni magic in their bloodline
Oppression of working citizens through unfair wages
Enslavement of women across Miraji
The list went on.
We demand the traitorous Sultan Oman be separated from his throne for his crimes and that his rightful heir, Prince Ahmed Al-Oman Bin Izman, true victor of the Sultim trials, be allowed to ascend in his place and return this desert to its rightful glory.
If he does not comply and surrender the throne, we will seize it on behalf of the people of Miraji.
A NEW DAWN. A NEW DESERT.
The Rebellion had come to Izman.
I read it over again. I was so absorbed I didn’t notice anyone near me until I felt the hand on the back of my neck. I started to spin, but Uzma had already darted up behind me, quiet as a shadow, unclasping the khalat where it was fastened at the nape of my neck.
The fabric came undone, slithering off me towards the ground. I grabbed at it, letting Ahmed’s sun slip to the ground, but too late to keep my body totally hidden.
Uzma’s nasty little eyes took in my body, judging it, finding it wanting in every possible way with one glance.
‘Now, that is a nasty scar. Did the tailor Abdul not stitch you together right?’ She meant the one on my right hip, where the bullet had gone through in Iliaz. My fingers were still fumbling with the clasp at my neck to tie the khalat back up. I could feel my skin burning under her mocking gaze. ‘It all makes sense now. Let me guess: you’re a whore who got pregnant, and they had to try to cut the thing out of you.’
I gave up on the clasp without the servants to help me and reached up to knot the loose ends of fabric together. Uzma took a smirking step toward me as I struggled. One of the pamphlets crumpled under her bare foot, Ahmed’s sun wrinkling.
‘How about you step away from her.’ The voice was iron and silk and wholly familiar. ‘Before I knock you back.’
Shazad wasn’t armed. But she looked as dangerous as she would’ve been with both her blades drawn as she stepped between me and Uzma. I tugged the knot tighter at the base of my neck. When I looked up, the smirk on Uzma’s face flickered.
Shazad leaned forward, forcing Uzma to stagger backwards. ‘My apologies,’ Shazad said in a tone that didn’t sound sorry at all. ‘That may have sounded like a suggestion. It wasn’t. Go.’
Uzma took two steps back, heading straight for Ayet, who was watching from the shadow of one of the pillars. Then Izz screamed again and both of them disappeared, fleeing for cover. Leaving me facing my best friend amid the chaos of the rapidly emptying courtyard.
‘I told you about watching your back.’ Shazad said.
‘I told you I knew I could count on you to do it for me.’ I longed to embrace her, but there were too many people around still. I could explain it away if we were caught talking but embracing might be harder. I had to be satisfied with plucking at the ornate sleeves of her khalat. ‘I reckon you’re the only person I know who can look that intimidating while wearing something with quite so many flowers on it.’
Shazad flashed me a messy smile. ‘All the better to be underestimated in. Come on.’ Shazad grabbed my hand, glancing around quickly. ‘We’re getting out of here. Now.’ She started pulling me towards the gates. Nobody was looking at us as Izz screamed, passing over the palace again. The Sultan had vanished and everyone else was running for cover. It was a good chance to get out. ‘This is supposed to be a distraction?’ I gestured at the pamphlets littering the ground underfoot.