She had been right not to change, I realised now.
Shira in her silks and muslins and jewels and fine make-up looked like nobility. But as she was now, dressed in a plain white khalat, she looked like a desert girl. She looked like one of the crowd she was facing, not something out of the palace. Folk were cheering for her, I realised, not for her head.
When she stepped up onto the stone, she was still shaking, her naked feet barely holding her up.
The restless crowd settled enough to listen as the executioner started to announce her so-called crimes. Shira stood with her head held high, back as straight as an iron bar. A light breeze picked up her hair. It was long and loose around her shoulders and it moved enough to expose her neck. The wind seemed to draw her eyes up. She tilted her head back, spotting me and Kadir on the balcony easily. She ignored her husband, locking gazes with me instead. There was a slight curve to her mouth. That was the only warning I had.
The executioner was still reading. ‘For treason against the Sultim—’
‘I am loyal to the true Sultim!’ The words burst out of Shira’s lips, startling the executioner into silence. ‘The true Sultim, Prince Ahmed!’ Her words stirred an answer in the crowd. ‘He was chosen by fate at the trials! Not by the hands of his father! A father who himself defied our traditions! I know the will of the Djinn, and they are punishing these false rulers. Kadir will never be able to give our country an heir!’
A rush of pride swelled in my chest. The Sultan had been right. It was a mistake to execute her in public. Kadir had given his legendary Sultima the biggest stage in Miraji to spill all their secrets on. She was one girl, seconds away from death, and she was using her last breath to do more than a rain of pamphlets from a Roc could. Even if they silenced her now, this story would spread all over Miraji and get grander with every retelling.
‘If Kadir ever sits on the throne, he will be the last Sultan of Miraji!’
Kadir shoved away from me as his Sultima spoke, pushing back inside, shouting orders. But he was far too late. The damage was done, and silencing her now looked like they were trying to stifle the truth. I didn’t move, though I caught the Sultan’s gaze for just a moment. He looked resigned. As if he knew this would come out of his son’s stupidity.
‘He will die without an heir to take his place and our country will fall back into foreign hands.’ Shira was still talking, her voice carrying over the beginnings of restlessness in the crowd. ‘The same foreign hands that the false Sultan makes deals with behind closed doors. Prince Ahmed is Miraji’s only hope! He is the true heir—’
She was still shouting as the guards wrestled her forward, forcing her head down onto the block. ‘A new dawn!’ she screamed as a guard forced her head down so hard that her chin connected with the block, opening a huge gash.
The din of the crowd was drowning out anything more she would have said, but she held my gaze as the executioner stepped up. I leaned forward, closing the distance between us as much as I could, my hips pressed against the railing, my body craning over the balcony.
I held her eyes until the axe came down.
Chapter 34
I couldn’t tell where the first stone came from. It sailed out of the crowd, smacking into the wall next to the balcony.
‘A new dawn!’ someone screamed from the crowd. ‘A new desert!’ The Rebellion’s cry picked up all around the square. The crowd below turned into a mob with frightening speed. Another rock flew, smacking into the screen around the balcony. The closest guard flinched back. Those out in the open with me were already retreating.
I saw the bomb as it prepared to sail. A flash of fire in the crowd. A bottle stuck with a burning cloth, aimed towards the balcony. I dove for cover inside. Even as I prepared to hit the ground, I spotted Tamid, staring through the screen, eyes pressed to the openings, fingers laced through the carved wood. I grabbed him and pulled him to the ground sprawling, even as the bottle struck the screen, exploding in a burst of flames and glass against the wood.
When I looked up, coughing, some of the screen was missing; the rest was catching fire. There was another soldier who’d been standing too close sprawled near us, crying out in agony as blood bloomed across one ruined side of his face. Tamid stared at the man, eyes wide. I supposed he wasn’t quite so used to dodging death as I was.
‘Bottle bombs, just like we used to make back home,’ I offered, pushing myself off him. I checked around quickly, making sure no one had noticed. The chaos was a distraction. The Sultan had already vanished. Gone to safety or to give orders to fortify the palace, I figured. To quell the crowds. I just hoped the Rebellion was ready to protect them. ‘We need to find cover.’ I offered my former friend a hand up. ‘Come on.’
Tamid got us back to his rooms safely, through hallways choked with soldiers, headed into the streets to keep the peace. Hundreds of men passing us, their boots pounding into the marble floor. He slammed the door behind us and bolted it shut. He leaned on the door for a moment, out of breath, as I slumped into the chair at his desk while he took another by the balcony.
We lapsed into uncomfortable silence. I could hear the rioting outside over our ragged breathing. Shouts of rebellion; gunfire. Once, something that sounded like an explosion. I thought I might’ve seen the flash of light it gave off across Tamid’s face as he peered out over the city. And I was stuck in here. Helpless.
Gradually my breathing slowed as night fell outside. The rioting faded to the back of my consciousness. I was left listening to the roar of grief in my head instead. I’d been helpless to save Shira, too. I’d watched her die. I might not have always liked her. But I’d never wanted her dead. And now she was gone. Another casualty of the cause. ad been right not to change, I realised now.
Shira in her silks and muslins and jewels and fine make-up looked like nobility. But as she was now, dressed in a plain white khalat, she looked like a desert girl. She looked like one of the crowd she was facing, not something out of the palace. Folk were cheering for her, I realised, not for her head.
When she stepped up onto the stone, she was still shaking, her naked feet barely holding her up.
The restless crowd settled enough to listen as the executioner started to announce her so-called crimes. Shira stood with her head held high, back as straight as an iron bar. A light breeze picked up her hair. It was long and loose around her shoulders and it moved enough to expose her neck. The wind seemed to draw her eyes up. She tilted her head back, spotting me and Kadir on the balcony easily. She ignored her husband, locking gazes with me instead. There was a slight curve to her mouth. That was the only warning I had.
The executioner was still reading. ‘For treason against the Sultim—’
‘I am loyal to the true Sultim!’ The words burst out of Shira’s lips, startling the executioner into silence. ‘The true Sultim, Prince Ahmed!’ Her words stirred an answer in the crowd. ‘He was chosen by fate at the trials! Not by the hands of his father! A father who himself defied our traditions! I know the will of the Djinn, and they are punishing these false rulers. Kadir will never be able to give our country an heir!’
A rush of pride swelled in my chest. The Sultan had been right. It was a mistake to execute her in public. Kadir had given his legendary Sultima the biggest stage in Miraji to spill all their secrets on. She was one girl, seconds away from death, and she was using her last breath to do more than a rain of pamphlets from a Roc could. Even if they silenced her now, this story would spread all over Miraji and get grander with every retelling.
‘If Kadir ever sits on the throne, he will be the last Sultan of Miraji!’
Kadir shoved away from me as his Sultima spoke, pushing back inside, shouting orders. But he was far too late. The damage was done, and silencing her now looked like they were trying to stifle the truth. I didn’t move, though I caught the Sultan’s gaze for just a moment. He looked resigned. As if he knew this would come out of his son’s stupidity.
‘He will die without an heir to take his place and our country will fall back into foreign hands.’ Shira was still talking, her voice carrying over the beginnings of restlessness in the crowd. ‘The same foreign hands that the false Sultan makes deals with behind closed doors. Prince Ahmed is Miraji’s only hope! He is the true heir—’
She was still shouting as the guards wrestled her forward, forcing her head down onto the block. ‘A new dawn!’ she screamed as a guard forced her head down so hard that her chin connected with the block, opening a huge gash.
The din of the crowd was drowning out anything more she would have said, but she held my gaze as the executioner stepped up. I leaned forward, closing the distance between us as much as I could, my hips pressed against the railing, my body craning over the balcony.
I held her eyes until the axe came down.
Chapter 34
I couldn’t tell where the first stone came from. It sailed out of the crowd, smacking into the wall next to the balcony.
‘A new dawn!’ someone screamed from the crowd. ‘A new desert!’ The Rebellion’s cry picked up all around the square. The crowd below turned into a mob with frightening speed. Another rock flew, smacking into the screen around the balcony. The closest guard flinched back. Those out in the open with me were already retreating.
I saw the bomb as it prepared to sail. A flash of fire in the crowd. A bottle stuck with a burning cloth, aimed towards the balcony. I dove for cover inside. Even as I prepared to hit the ground, I spotted Tamid, staring through the screen, eyes pressed to the openings, fingers laced through the carved wood. I grabbed him and pulled him to the ground sprawling, even as the bottle struck the screen, exploding in a burst of flames and glass against the wood.
When I looked up, coughing, some of the screen was missing; the rest was catching fire. There was another soldier who’d been standing too close sprawled near us, crying out in agony as blood bloomed across one ruined side of his face. Tamid stared at the man, eyes wide. I supposed he wasn’t quite so used to dodging death as I was.
‘Bottle bombs, just like we used to make back home,’ I offered, pushing myself off him. I checked around quickly, making sure no one had noticed. The chaos was a distraction. The Sultan had already vanished. Gone to safety or to give orders to fortify the palace, I figured. To quell the crowds. I just hoped the Rebellion was ready to protect them. ‘We need to find cover.’ I offered my former friend a hand up. ‘Come on.’
Tamid got us back to his rooms safely, through hallways choked with soldiers, headed into the streets to keep the peace. Hundreds of men passing us, their boots pounding into the marble floor. He slammed the door behind us and bolted it shut. He leaned on the door for a moment, out of breath, as I slumped into the chair at his desk while he took another by the balcony.
We lapsed into uncomfortable silence. I could hear the rioting outside over our ragged breathing. Shouts of rebellion; gunfire. Once, something that sounded like an explosion. I thought I might’ve seen the flash of light it gave off across Tamid’s face as he peered out over the city. And I was stuck in here. Helpless.
Gradually my breathing slowed as night fell outside. The rioting faded to the back of my consciousness. I was left listening to the roar of grief in my head instead. I’d been helpless to save Shira, too. I’d watched her die. I might not have always liked her. But I’d never wanted her dead. And now she was gone. Another casualty of the cause.