The loathing behind that one word was so great, so unlike Nasir that both Altair and Seif turned to him fully in disbelief. He knew what the prince was thinking behind the flint of his eyes: It was Aya’s fault that Zafira was gone. But if they started down that path, blaming one thing upon the next, there would be no end, no future.
“Some truths have no reason,” Seif murmured.
“This one does,” Altair said with force.
Leila spoke now. “After what she’d lost, you have no right—”
“We’ve all lost something,” Altair bit out. No one knew how much he had once loved Aya. No one knew he was once the last to judge her. “Look at me. Look at him.” He gestured to Nasir. “We have lost, and we have suffered. We did not fall prey to insanity and the Lion’s lies. The difference, Leila, between Aya and us is that we do not give up.”
The camels snorted in the silence, Haytham’s son’s soft murmurs lilting in the quiet. Seif’s brow was creased, his pale eyes slit.
“He is right,” he said finally.
“Thus, Benyamin died for nothing,” Leila said softly.
Nasir looked away. Benyamin had died for the gray-eyed prince, for their future sultan, and for his brother.
To Altair, that was everything.
“He was valiant until the end,” Altair said solemnly. “He spoke of you even in the throes of death.”
She closed her eyes briefly, carmined lips soft. “I expected nothing less from a Haadi. Now I am all that remains of Arawiya’s oldest family.”
“Not much of Arawiya will be left to speak of if the Lion remains in power,” Altair said as Haytham’s son collected stones from the cool sand. “We need you with us. We need your aid. We need aid from Alderamin.”
Leila’s gaze flicked to the ground. “My people will not—”
“Your people,” Altair repeated quietly. “Alderamin is home to only a fifth of your people. Arawiya is the land of your people. Leave this division by caliphate aside, Leila. We are one kingdom.”
“I am not one of them, Altair,” she said crisply. The gold filigree cuffing her elongated ears glinted mockingly.
He set his jaw, the loss of his eye a beacon. “Neither am I.”
“What you decide to do with your immortal life sets no requirement upon ours.”
Altair breathed a mirthless laugh, regarding her. It was taking some adjustment, only being able to see out of one eye. It meant turning his head
and craning his neck far too much. “You were there for his first reign of darkness. You know what will happen. The darkness will spread from one caliphate to the next, and people will die. Even safin can starve.” He met Leila’s gaze, disappointed by her obstinacy. “Benyamin would—”
“Do not speak of what he would or would not have done,” she demanded. “He is dead. My mother is dead. You need to understand that the title of Alder calipha will matter little when I ask my people to help you, for not one safi will feel particularly inclined to assist the mortals for whom my kin died.”
The wind gusted toward them, grieving the night’s lost souls. It was a horrible truth, but had Leila been more like her brother, she would have agreed: It was worth trying. Worth rallying them, begging them for aid. Altair turned to Seif.
“I will not abandon our cause, but I must return to Alderamin, too,” Seif said. “After tonight’s events, it is clear the Lion will seek the destruction of the remaining hearts. I must be there to protect the heart and the throne. The rest of the High Circle will do the same in the other caliphates. History stands to be rewritten, and if there is anyone who understands the merit of this opportunity, it is those of the Circle.
“We will remain vigilant, and upon magic’s return, should you succeed, we will position restrictors to halt the flow of power until each caliphate gets their bearings.”
Altair wasn’t ready to think that far just yet. To worry over the common person being unable to control the affinity he or she wielded felt trivial after what had transpired. He lowered his brow, sensing he had no leeway here. No amount of persuasion would work. Safin were stubborn that way.
“May success ride in your favor, Seif bin Uqub,” Altair said at last. “Shukrun for your efforts.”
Besides, he hadn’t come so far by relying on the halfhearted.
CHAPTER 62
Civilization faded to the swell of sand dunes lit blue, ghosts of the lost rising with the dust Altair’s and Nasir’s horses stirred in their wake. It was only after they crossed the border of Sultan’s Keep and passed into Sarasin that Altair allowed himself to breathe freely for the first time since they’d fled the palace.
He had watched the life fade from a thousand men, but never had he lost so many friends in a single mission. Benyamin, Zafira. Aya.