We Free the Stars (Sands of Arawiya 2)

Seif considered them. “The hearts may not last.”

It is true, the Jawarat said. The hearts had two homes: the Sisters and the royal minarets created by them.

“As Nasir said, they were fine on Sharr for nearly a century,” Kifah said.

But they had still been within the Sisters. Those five massive trees on Sharr were what the Sisters had become, guardians of the Jawarat, protectors of their hearts, even as the organs sustained them.

They needed to be housed in the minarets, or they would fade to dust. Still, Zafira held her tongue, afraid of sounding callous. She didn’t want to leave Altair in the hands of the Lion, either.

“Their restoration is what Altair would wish,” Aya said, casting her vote.

Kifah looked at Zafira, as if her answer would sway two safin from Benyamin’s ancient circle of high safin. Home. That was what she wanted, but she couldn’t bring that up now, when they were being selfless. Zafira had been selfless her entire life. What was another day or two?

“What I didn’t say earlier,” she said instead, “is that we have only four hearts. The Lion has the fifth.”

Seif’s brows angled sharply, instantly irritating her. “You lost the fifth heart.”

“We, Seif. And we lost more than the heart of a Sister,” Aya reminded softly, before Zafira, Nasir, and Kifah could simultaneously snap his neck. Sweet snow. She looked from one of them to the other. “It was not your fault.”

“Never thought it was,” said Kifah, affronted.

“Restoration is important,” Zafira continued calmly, “but four hearts won’t give us the upper hand.”

Aya released a long breath, making the connection. “Magic for all or none.”

“Even if it were possible, none of you know how to use magic,” Seif muttered snobbishly.

Zafira did. She’d been using her magic long before she even knew what it was.

“Every fireheart will incinerate the surrounding mile,” Seif went on.

“I might not have been alive when magic was around, but even I know magic is innate,” Kifah said. “We’ll need to perfect it, but it’s not like we’re all going to be wandering Arawiya with loose bladders.”

“Was there no other analogy?” Seif asked.

Kifah rolled her eyes. “Prude.”

“The Lion will come for the rest of the hearts,” Aya said, guiding them back to the matter at hand. “A single one is useless without the others.”

It was sound reasoning, Zafira knew, but something told her the hearts were not a priority for him. Not yet. She pulled the Jawarat from her bag, running her fingers down the lion’s mane, instantly at ease. Even on Sharr, the Lion’s focus had been on the book—she doubted they would have escaped with as many of the hearts as they had otherwise.

Your confidence astounds, bint Iskandar.

“Arawiya knows next to nothing of the hearts,” Zafira pointed out. “The Sisters held the knowledge of them close.”

“And now that knowledge is in the Jawarat,” Nasir gathered.

Zafira nodded grimly. “He’ll come for the Jawarat first, if for no reason other than it being what he craves: knowledge.”

Even if she hadn’t seen the tattoo curling around the Lion’s eye, the old Safaitic word of ‘ilm etched bold and bronze, she would have known this, for Benyamin had told them as much. It was what he valued above all else.

Seif eyed the book and extended his hand. “Then it must be under strict supervision.”

No, bint Iskandar.

For an immortal book, it had a knack for sounding like a sulking child.

“Do you think I won’t protect the thing that’s bound to me? If anything happens to it, I could die,” Zafira snapped. “I’m more than capable of keeping it safe.”