We Free the Stars (Sands of Arawiya 2)

branches reaching for the skies. There was no white rose on its limbs now, but she felt a whisper as she brushed past, a call she once heeded.

“Qif,” ordered the guards standing before the doors, silver uniforms bright. “No one is allowed inside.”

Zafira froze, and Lana lifted her chin.

Yasmine propped her hands on her hips. “We’re expected.”

One of the guards barked a laugh. “You and every other peasant here. Move aside.”

“I’m the—” Zafira almost said “Hunter,” before the word died on her tongue, for there was no Arz to hunt in anymore. She wasn’t a hunter, or a huntress.

She was a peasant, as the guard said.

“Okhti,” Lana warned beside her, and Zafira snapped out of it as the guard descended the steps, his face cruel.

She grabbed Yasmine’s hand and the three of them backed into the crowd, shoving their way through the people until they found a spot within view of the balcony where Nasir had already begun addressing the crowds.

“I’m sorry,” Lana said softly.

Zafira and Yasmine hushed her.

And then Nasir found her in the throngs, and he stopped.

He smiled after a thought, a true curve of contentment that reflected in his eyes, a dimple etched into his right cheek. From his mother, then.

Several people turned to look at her, to see what had stolen their sultan’s attention, and she couldn’t stop a full grin of her own. Then he opened his mouth.

And

damned

himself.

CHAPTER 105

Some decisions could never be undone. Nasir was aware of this fact as he pieced together his next words.

“There are many truths you will learn in the years to come. The biggest is this: Arawiya’s sultana, Anadil, was not safin. She was not human, either. She was the last of the Sisters of Old, once warden of Sharr.”

The crowd ruptured in surprise. Again, he looked to her, his fair gazelle. She was holding her sister against her, whispering something even as she held his gaze.

“I am her son, but not her firstborn. I was raised a prince, but I wasn’t given the heart and soul of a king.”

The buzzing crowd fell silent at this admission. The zumra’s gazes burned into him, questions rising in the quiet, none of them louder than his mother’s.

“Her first son, however, was given both of those things. He has fought and bled for this kingdom, to keep the darkness at bay and our people alive even when all hope seemed lost. As I carried out the worst of commands, killing without mercy.” Now Nasir’s voice rose. It was a truth he would brand across history if he must. “If there is anyone deserving of the Gilded Throne and this crown, it is him. My brother.”

Nasir inhaled a deep breath, gripping the rail beneath the full weight of what he was about to do.

“Altair al-Badawi.”

The effect of the name was instant.

Joy swept down the ranks of the people gathered below, triumph in their shouts. He knew not everyone would trust that Altair was his brother. He knew there would be those who would search Altair’s lineage for the name of his father. Those who would challenge him.

But for now, their love for him, and all he had done for them, would be enough.

Nasir stepped inside, expecting bitterness in his veins, but he only felt pride. Pure and whole.