Traitor to the Throne (Rebel of the Sands, #2)(86)

I didn’t have time to watch them disappear into the harem before Imin grabbed my arm. ‘Walk quickly. And don’t look back.’

‘What’s happening?’ I asked under my breath as we moved fast down the hallway. Too quickly, I realised. If the Sultan took his eyes off Rahim for even a second, he’d realise I was all but running.

‘Something that passes for a plan at short notice, that’s what. Take a right here.’ We turned the corner and then we were out of the Sultan’s view. Rahim wasn’t betraying us, I realised; he was a distraction. I felt suddenly ashamed for believing he’d turn on us so easily. By the time he was done talking to his father, the Sultan would think I was back in the harem. If he wondered at all.

‘Fadi, the baby,’ I started. ‘The Sultan will look for him, you need to—’ Imin’s eyes rolled to the sky, cutting me off.

‘Believe it or not, we can make a stab at executing a plan without you.’ Imin slowed down as we left the cool of the marble palace walls and passed into one of the huge, sprawling gardens. It was only early morning, so the unrelenting heat of the day hadn’t set in yet, but I still squinted against the sun after the dark of the vaults.

We stopped, ducking behind a tree, out of sight of anyone who might walk by. Imin yanked the servant’s clothes off in one quick gesture. Underneath was a palace guard’s uniform that had been made for someone a whole lot taller and broader. Imin started unrolling the sleeves and loosening the belt buckle, making room for a new body. ‘We can’t just walk a baby out of the harem. Someone would notice he was gone. Unless the Sultan thinks he’s dead, that is. If, say, half of the harem were to see Kadir drown the baby in a fit of rage, for instance.’

Hala could do that. That’s why they’d risk bringing her into the palace. All she’d have to do was take Fadi back to the harem and then play the scene out in the heads of whoever happened to be nearby. She could even put it into Kadir’s head if she wanted to. She could make him believe he’d really killed him. And even if she didn’t get to Kadir, who would the Sultan believe, a dozen wives and daughters in the harem who saw it happen, or a son with a violent temper? Especially when the child was nowhere to be found. ‘Then my dear sister can just walk him out the palace door to safety under the cover of an illusion.’ Imin shook out the long sleeves so they fell over the dainty hands of her female form. ‘It’s almost easy.’

Imin was right. This could work. We could save Fadi. ‘And his mother?’ I asked, anticipation building in my chest. ‘My cousin Shira – how do we get her out?’

‘We’re not going to—’ Imin started, then quickly stopped herself before she could truth-tell the future. But I knew what she had been about to say. We’re not going to save Shira. It didn’t matter whether she said it or not; it seemed like it was already decided.

‘Why?’ I asked. ‘If we can get Fadi out, why not Shira? Sam has clearly just walked you and Hala through the walls, he could—’

‘The prison is iron bars all the way through; there’s no way for Sam to walk in there and walk her back out.’ Imin didn’t meet my eyes. ‘But I can walk you in there to see her before she’s executed.’ So that was what the guard’s uniform was for. ‘She’s asking for you.’

‘That’s not a good reason not to save her.’ Imin was holding the truth back. I just didn’t know why. ‘If Hala wanted to, she could get a soldier to unlock Shira’s cell and walk her out under the Sultan’s nose. Which means there’s some other reason saving Shira’s not part of the plan.’ It wasn’t a question. ‘Why?’

Imin straightened. She was drowning in the guard’s uniform. She looked liked a child playing dress-up in grown-up’s garb. But her face was wise beyond her eighteen years. ‘Because we haven’t given up on saving you yet.’ Understanding hit me all at once. Because if Shira disappeared, I might as well turn myself in. An infant could disappear believably, but Shira’s death couldn’t be faked near so easy. If she was gone, she’d be counted as escaped. And sooner or later the Sultan’s eyes would turn to me, the girl who had already tried to help her once. And he would ask questions and I would sell out the whole Rebellion with a word.

It was Shira or everyone else.

‘But Ayet—’ I started to tell her that I was already done for. That I’d been stupid and careless and gotten myself caught. That it was over for me anyway.

‘You don’t need to worry about Ayet.’ Imin started to shapeshift, to fill out the uniform. He was a head taller than I was in a few seconds.

‘What do you mean?’

He didn’t answer, scratching at his chin angrily as it filled out with a beard. ‘I hate these things.’ Whichever soldier’s shape he was stealing had a voice for giving orders, deep and ponderous. ‘Navid has been growing a beard since we fled camp so now kissing him is like rubbing my face against burlap. You’re lucky Jin’s always been clean-shaven, you know.’

‘At least Navid doesn’t occasionally vanish to parts unknown on you,’ I offered back. I pressed my palms against my eyes, pushing back against the exhaustion. ‘So we’re supposed to just let Shira die?’

‘The way it seems to me, one of you has to,’ Imin said. ‘If you really wanted me to, I could save her. But I’d have to kill you here and now so that you couldn’t betray us.’ He drummed his fingers along the knife at his belt. I knew Imin meant it. He’d do anything for this rebellion, just like any of us. And that’d include killing me. ‘You can do a lot more for the Rebellion alive. And she—’ Imin hesitated, like he didn’t want to say it. But he was a Demdji. He had to be truthful. ‘She can do a lot more by dying.’