Traitor to the Throne (Rebel of the Sands, #2)(82)

And he was clever and he was kind. No wonder she’d really fall in love with him.

And she was right. I couldn’t leave him behind a second time.

*

When Sam walked through the wall that night he had a split lip and he was walking like he might’ve bruised his ribs. It was the one sign he brought with him that things were getting close to boiling point on the outside. He only ever gave me good news from the Rebellion. That Saramotai was safe. That an ambush had been successful. That the delegation meant to inspect the remains of the factory in Dustwalk had never made it that far.

‘You want me to break out four people from this palace now, and I only have two hands.’ Sam scratched at the scab on his lip. I slapped his hand away. He was going to make it scar.

‘Three people.’

‘Four,’ Sam said. ‘I’m counting you. How long have you known me now? Do you really still underestimate the prowess of the Blue-Eyed Bandit?’ He flung his sheema over his shoulder. It snagged on one of the branches of the Weeping Wall tree.

‘Is it just me, or have you gotten more ridiculous?’ It was so like Sam to try to dodge anything even a little bit serious. Like the real possibility I might not be able to escape at Auranzeb with them.

‘Ridiculously smitten with you.’ He’d managed to extract the sheema with some dignity. I realised he was trying to make me laugh. And it was working.

‘You’re not smitten with me, you’re—’ In love with someone else. It almost slipped out, but I stopped myself in time. Sam spent a lot of time bragging about conquests. I was more than sure half of them were invented. But I’d never heard him talk about anyone in particular that he actually cared about. I searched his face now, looking for a hint of something truthful under there. But I was the one with traitor eyes, not him.

‘You sound awfully sure of yourself, my beautiful friend.’ He was all swagger as he planted his hands on either side of me against the tree. ‘Want to bet on that?’

He was going to kiss me, I realised. Or he wanted me to think he was. To prove some stupid point.

‘Your lip is bleeding.’ I reached out to where the split was, but Sam caught my hand playfully as he leaned in a little closer. I didn’t feel anything. Not the way I did when Jin looked at me the way Sam was. Or was pretending to. No rush of heat invading my whole body. The world around him was still as sharp as it had been before he touched me. He wasn’t Jin. But he was here when Jin wasn’t.

The laugh was unmistakable. Our heads snapped around, pulling us apart before his mouth could find mine.

Ayet was in the gateway to the Weeping Wall garden, head thrown back to the sky in a laugh, like she was thanking the heavens for the gift that’d been sent to her. Seventeen years of desert instincts reared in my chest. Only I wasn’t in the desert now. And this was a different kind of danger.

‘You know, in all this time looking for a way to keep you out of my husband’s bed,’ Ayet said, ‘I never thought it would be as incredibly obvious as this. You’re just one of the hundreds of women in the harem stupid enough to take a lover.’

‘Ayet—’ I took a step forward and she took one back. I stopped, keenly aware that she could bolt like a startled animal any second and run to sell me out. ‘Don’t do this. It’s not—’

‘Oh, it’s very much too late to negotiate, Amani.’ And then she whipped around, racing back into the harem.

‘Well,’ Sam said. ‘This seems like it might be a problem.’

*

It was a matter of hours until the Sultan and Kadir were back from greeting the Gallan king. From lying to him and saying it was the Rebellion who had killed his ambassador. A handful of hours to stop Ayet before she got the chance to spill the news to her husband. Stop her or get everyone out.

Sam was making a run for it back to the rebel camp for help. I still didn’t know where it was and I was grateful for that. If the Sultan ordered me to tell him, my ignorance would buy them some time at least. But they still had to be prepared to run.

In the meantime, I was going to try to stop Ayet.

If there was one person who was a bigger threat to Ayet than I was, it was Shira. And she was still standing. I needed to know how. Shira bartered in information. She had something that kept Ayet off her back. And I needed it.

I burst back towards the core of the harem, breathing hard. Something was different. I felt it immediately. I spotted Leyla, dark hair gathered up off her neck, staring across the garden, worrying her thumbnail. ‘Leyla.’ I dashed across to her. ‘Listen to me. Ayet just found out – it’s complicated. If she speaks to your father or to Kadir, we’re not going to be able to get you out of the palace at Auranzeb like we planned. So you need to be prepared to leave tonight if I tell you to. And I need to find Shira,’ I summarised quickly. ‘Do you know where she is?’

Leyla looked startled as I spilled the information out at her. But she grasped on to the last question. ‘The Sultima? Her baby’s coming. Someone has sent word to Kadir.’

That was it, I realised. That was the restless wildness filling the harem. Damn. Bad timing. ‘Leyla, where is she?’

Shira’s screams got louder as I burst down the hallway. There were a handful more harem women, sprawled in prayer outside the door. A servant woman rushed out, carrying a blood-soaked cloth. Shira’s screams followed her out. Then the door slammed shut again, muffling them.