Traitor to the Throne (Rebel of the Sands, #2)(68)

It looked like the future Sultan of Miraji already had his own court, even if he was really the son of a fake Blue-Eyed Bandit. And Shira was taking advantage of it for the few weeks left before she gave birth to him. She was a long way from Dustwalk now.

As I got closer, one of the servants standing guard blocked my path. ‘The blessed Sultima has no desire for company today.’ Sure, the blessed Sultima looks as solitary as a hermit today. It was on the tip of my tongue, but my Demdji side didn’t recognise the difference between sarcasm and a lie. I had to satisfy myself with raising my eyebrow at the small crowd surrounding her. The woman didn’t seem to appreciate the irony.

‘Shira,’ I called out, over the servant’s shoulder. She lifted her head enough to squint at me, sucking on a date pit between her fingers. She pulled an annoyed face but waved her hand.

‘Let her through.’ The servant moved aside reluctantly. I gave Shira a pointed look. With another dramatic sigh she dismissed them. Everything from the wave of her fingers to the sprawl of her body looked lazy, but her sharp eyes never left me. ‘So that’s what Ayet wanted scissors for,’ she said by way of greeting, as her court dissipated. ‘I was wondering. You know, I thought about cutting it all off back in Dustwalk when you slept a few feet away from me, but I actually worried short hair might suit you.’ She tilted her head. ‘I guess I was wrong.’

‘You got Sam to smuggle you in a pair of scissors?’ I caught myself tugging on the ends where they didn’t quite reach my shoulders and dropped my hand. But not before Shira caught the gesture.

‘You’re surprised?’ She ran her hands along her swollen middle.

I supposed I shouldn’t be. Shira and Sam might not be anything more than a means to an end for each other, but she was carrying a child that meant something to both of them. Still, I’d figured Sam was with us now. The notion that he might still be getting into other trouble we didn’t know about while smuggling information for us made me uneasy. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t just a little bit angry he could be so cummy with me, all while handing over tools to humiliate me with when I wasn’t looking.

‘Just be grateful I refused to procure her a knife. A slit throat would suit you even less than’ – she waved a hand vaguely – ‘that.’

I swallowed back a retort. I couldn’t get into a war of words with my cousin just now. ‘What kind of game are you playing, Shira?’

‘It’s called survival.’ Shira extended a hand towards me, opening and closing her fingers like a demanding child. I took her hand, helping her sit up so she could look at me straight on instead of from the ground. She moved slowly, one hand splayed protectively over her middle. ‘I would do anything for the survival of my son.’

‘And what are you going to do if your son is born looking like Sam?’ I challenged. ‘Blue eyes look awfully suspicious on desert folks, I can tell you that much.’

‘He won’t be.’ She said it with such determination I could almost believe she could truth-tell it into existence even though I was the Demdji here. ‘I haven’t done all this just to fail at the end. Do you know how hard I have worked to never be alone here in the harem since it became known that I was pregnant? I traded those scissors for a secret from Ayet that I can hold on to like a shield against her. Because I need to keep her away from me more than I need to keep her away from you. Don’t get me wrong, you’re an excellent distraction, but when I give birth it is over for his other wives unless they can give him a son, too. And they can’t. And they all know that. So do you honestly think Ayet is above doing away with a pregnant girl to keep herself alive? I’ve seen what you’d do for survival, Amani. I know you understand.’

Tamid bleeding out onto the sand. I pushed the image away. ‘Is that why Mouhna and Uzma have disappeared? Your survival?’

‘Interesting.’ Shira sucked on the date pit between her teeth. ‘Here I’d been thinking Mouhna and Uzma were your doing. Seeing how you’re rubbing elbows with the Sultan now. They weren’t all that nice to you. And it looks to me like you’ve got the power to make them disappear if you wanted …’

If I was going to get rid of them, I’d start with Ayet. I shoved that thought away. ‘So if it wasn’t my doing or your doing … Girls don’t just vanish into thin air.’

‘Not outside of stories, at least.’ Shira ran her tongue along her teeth, a hint of worry creasing her eyebrows as she looked far away. Then her attention snapped back to me. ‘Let’s say I wanted your help for something.’ Shira peeled one of the cloths from her forehead. ‘What would you want in trade?’

‘Why should I help you?’ I crossed my arms. ‘I’ve got your life to trade you if I need anything. What else have I got to gain from you?’

‘You’re a lot worse at this survival game than I thought you’d be.’ Shira sounded really and truly exasperated. Like we were kids again and I was too stupid to understand the rules to some game she’d made up in the schoolyard.

‘Then why don’t you tell me how you want to play?’

‘I want information,’ Shira said. ‘I’ve seen you with Leyla. The scrawny princess with no charm.’

‘What about her?’ I sounded defensive even to my own ears. Whatever time I did spend in the harem was usually spent with Leyla. We took our meals together. Usually I ate while her food went cold as her whole attention spilled into whatever little mechanical toy she was constructing.