Mirage (Mirage #1)(43)

I realized, with surprise, that she was me.

“Your Highness.”

I was too tired to be shocked or frightened, though Idris’s feet had made no sound on the stone floor. He stood in the entry to the bower dressed as simply as I was, in a dark green jacket edged with white thread, and loose matching trousers. His hair was loose as it always seemed to be here, and his face was still shadowed with beginnings of a beard. One of my—Maram’s, I reminded myself—mantles hung over his arm.

“Why are you awake?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why are you?”

When I said nothing he came forward and settled the mantle over my shoulders. It wasn’t particularly heavy, but it would keep the dissipating morning chill at bay. I clutched it around my shoulders and tried not to stare at him. I’d thought of him too often since the morning I’d sung for him. And as the realization that I could choose who I was grew in my mind, so had my feelings for him.

He pulled my braid from under the mantle and settled it over my shoulder.

“Idris—”

“I want to show you something,” he said at last. “Will you come with me?”

*

He took me down into the catacombs. His hand, dry and cool, wrapped around mine and pulled me gently through the half dark. There were no lanterns, but when I looked up, there were small light orbs hovering close to the cavern ceiling. They hushed and whispered at us in rhythm, as if keeping time. The walkway extended well beyond the Massinite murals. He led me down a path that forked to the left, and then another. At last there was a doorway of light at the end of the tunnel.

We emerged into an impossibly large cavern whose ceiling had caved in years ago. Just below the opening was a lake, its water dark and still. The air was heady, filled with the scent of flowers and greenery. Everywhere I looked, plants and trees grew, twining themselves around stalagmites, crawling up the walls.

“What is this place?” I breathed.

“The oasis Janat,” Idris said. “Furat and I discovered it when we were young. The moon is filled with such underground oases. It’s how the settlers terraformed it.”

“Are—are we safe here? Alone?”

He nodded and tugged on my hand. “The Tazalghit control nearly all the oases, but this one they ceded to the Ziyadis as a gift centuries ago. The Dowager’s men guard it well. We’ll be safe.”

We followed a path that led us up a ledge and onto a cliff overlooking the entire cavern. For a while we stood there, watching sunlight fill the cavern, quiet as the sound of birdsong rose. When I wandered off, Idris let me be. I appreciated this—bringing me here, not asking questions—more than he would ever know. In the Ziyaana, no one wanted or tried to put me at ease. Even here at Ouzdad, the Dowager liked me because I spoke Kushaila, while Furat watched me because of how I could serve the rebellion, and Tala despaired constantly of my inability to follow rules.

This was the first time anyone had offered me respite without asking for anything in return.

Eventually I found a small pool, flush against the cavern wall. I slid off my slippers and with a grateful sigh, hung my feet over the edge of the rock and into the water. It was cold, but the air was heating quickly and it didn’t take long for me to shrug off the mantle I’d clung to earlier. Janat was hushed, as if waiting for something holy. There was birdsong and the sound of flowing water and the rushing of leaves, but there were no people here, or so it seemed. It was like being in a temple, waiting for the call to prayer, for the sun to rise, for the sound of worship. I closed my eyes, breathed, and felt the weight of the last week slip from my heart.

Idris found me like that, leaning back on my hands, my face upturned to the cavern’s ceiling. He said nothing, but pulled his shoes off as I had, and took up a spot on the rock beside me. Our silences too often felt weighted, as if we were both replaying the afternoon in the grotto or the morning in the courtyard. I shouldn’t have touched him, shouldn’t have let him touch me. I should have kept my distance. And because I hadn’t, I was now faced with a choice.

When I looked over at him, he was watching me.

“What?”

He smiled. “I could teach you to swim.”

I snorted and his smile widened. “Her Highness doesn’t swim,” I reminded him. “And I will only ever go where she needs to be. Besides, it’s a terrible idea.”

“You’ve never lived by the water?”

I shook my head and turned away. “It was a valley,” I said after a moment. “The Vath dammed up the river twenty years ago. There’s no place to swim.”

“Ah,” was all he said.

I hadn’t thought of the valley that had been my home in so long. Always my thoughts were with Husnain or with Aziz and my parents. I’d never thought to miss it, and yet here I was, my chest squeezing tight as I thought of its mountains and smoky skies.

“I have been wondering,” Idris started again, and I tried not to sigh.

“Yes, sayidi?”

“The song you sang that morning. What did it mean?”

I felt the flush working its way up my throat before I even looked at him. He truly didn’t know, that much I could tell from his expression. But what a fool I’d been, singing an old love song. He knew what it was, even if he didn’t know what the words meant. He’d been lulled into it as much as I had, had stared at me as though I were the only person in the garden, even as Tala berated us for being alone.