Traitor to the Throne (Rebel of the Sands, #2)(98)

The Sultan stepped up onto the raised platform in the garden. The tension that had been rising in my chest since dawn was nearly bursting me. Night was falling around us and nobody had lit any lamps around the garden to ward against it. The only light came from the lamps strung above the platform, plunging the crowd into darkness.

It was almost too perfect a cover to slip out under.

‘Esteemed guests! Welcome. I am honoured by your presence,’ the Sultan called through the gardens, summoning all attention onto him. Conversations went out like snuffed matches all around us as clusters of people turned into a crowd around the raised platform.

I started to push my way through against the bodies pushing towards the platform. I was headed towards the edge of the garden. To rejoin the Rebellion and get the hell out of here. Assuming I didn’t wind up burned alive like Akim’s wife for releasing the Djinn.

The Sultan’s voice carried on from the stage. He was talking about peace and about power. Meaningless platitudes. Around me snatches of translation drifted out of the crowd. Shazad appeared next to me as I dodged around a Mirajin woman who rattled with rubies. Neither of us spoke or broke our pace as we came together, like two currents merging into a river.

As we got further, Sam dropped into place between us, splitting off from the other soldiers in the same uniform as him, but with different loyalties. We broke free of the crowd finally. Sam pulled ahead of us as we approached the wall, and he grabbed our hands, the gold dust from my palm staining his as we pressed between two of the clay-and-bronze sculptures. ‘Hold your breath,’ he instructed as I fought my instinct to flinch away from walking straight into a wall.

We should’ve met hard stone. Instead it was like stepping into sand. Like the wall had changed its form for us, from solid to soft. Only it was reluctant to. Even as we pushed through I felt it trying to trap us there. The stone was pressing against my skin, fighting back to the shape it had been for thousands of years. I squeezed my eyes shut. After surviving the harem and the Sultan I was going to die here anyway. I was going to be entombed in the walls of the palace forever.

And then air hit my skin again and I was through, stumbling out the other side. Away from the Auranzeb celebrations. Into the quiet of the polished palace halls.

‘Took you long enough.’ Hala greeted us on the other side. She looked like herself, golden skin and all, dressed in simple desert clothes, as she waited. Sam had gotten her in a few hours before. Waiting seemed to have put her in an even better mood than she was usually in. Her eyes swept me. ‘That colour doesn’t suit you.’

‘Yes, I’ve already been over this with Imin. Thank you for your input.’ I decided to ignore Hala, turning to Shazad instead. ‘You knew Jin was back and nobody thought to mention it to me?’

She paused, unwrapping the sash around her waist, revealing rolls and rolls of gunpowder hidden inside. Sam and Shazad traded a sort of conspiratorial look. The kind Shazad and I used to share. I was reminded with a pang of how long I’d been gone.

‘Don’t lie to me, Shazad. Of all people, don’t you lie to me.’

‘Yes, he got back yesterday,’ Shazad admitted. ‘Izz found him. When we went down to Dustwalk after your tip about the factory. He was looking for you down there. He seemed to think you might have changed your mind and headed home with that aunt of yours. Idiot.’

‘For what it’s worth’ – Sam piped up – ‘I did vote to tell you.’

‘For what it’s worth,’ Shazad said, ‘you’re a thief, not a rebel, so you don’t get a vote—’

‘I really don’t think you’ve got the moral high ground here,’ Sam returned, leaning against the wall looking all too pleased with himself. He was enjoying Shazad’s attention, whatever form it came in. ‘And another thing—’

Hala groaned, cutting him off. ‘While someone might be fascinated by this, they are not people currently trying to get you across a palace unseen. Do you mind?’

I led the way.

We stayed close to Hala, moving as slowly as we could. It made it easier for her to fool the minds of the soldiers we passed standing guard inside the palace. They were few and far between. Resources were spread thin tonight. But not a single one of them blinked as we walked straight in front of them; their minds were twisted firmly by Hala’s power so all they saw was empty hallway. We moved quietly down now-familiar hallways and around corners until finally we came face-to-face with Princess Hawa’s mosaic. Sam didn’t wait for me to speak, grabbing our hands again, pulling us through the wall.

We came out, half stumbling, at the top of the old stone stairs that I’d walked down the first time I’d woken in the palace, the Sultan holding a lamp in front of us, so I could see only one step in front of me at a time.

Only I could see the bottom of the steps now. We weren’t alone in the palace vaults. My arm shot out, stopping Shazad from going any further. She understood the signal instantly, pausing where she was.

We moved carefully, lowering ourselves on the stairs like ghouls in the night, crouching until we were at the edge of the shadows, until we could see clearly into the crypt.

The vaults flickered with the movement of the captured Djinn. There were eighteen of them now. Eighteen names that I had called one by one to be trapped. And though they’d all taken the form of men there was still something unnatural about them. They stood like pillars of immortal power around the vaults, sometimes catching light that couldn’t come from anywhere. The sheer force of their presence felt like a physical blow.