Khaya drew her legs up on the wooden chair, eyes vacant as the same few moments in the tunnel replayed themselves over in her mind. The huff of breath as Rehan leapt off Farhad's back into the fray, the searing slash of his blade against flesh that gave way like water. The rest was a muted blur, faded into the background as all her power merged to a single point of focus.
She had been dimly aware of Yahya's fingers tightening around her wrist, pulling her behind him. The flickering light gave her brief glimpses of violent movement, like a series of paintings set on a canvas of darkness.
And then it was over. The rebels lay fallen, and her breath had died in her throat with them. She was grateful for the dying light, so she would not have to see their blood flooding the stone, drowning her. But it was still bright enough that she had seen Rehan, the inertia in his movement, the glaze over his eyes after Yahya translated the enemy's final rebuke.
And all she could do was stand there. Silent, motionless, as if she too were dead.
The thought finally settled over her, and she knew now, that it had always been there, buried deep under her pride and arrogance and reliance on Yahya and concern for Rehan, waiting for this moment to reveal itself to her as truth.
She was not strong enough.
What ever made her think she was?
Her room was dark, but for the distant twinkling stars shining through the honeycomb windows and a small candle in the corner, on the verge of winking out. Yahya had put her in one of the rooms in the servant's wing, just close enough to hear what she needed to, and far enough that he wouldn't see her. She wondered what Yahya had said to Firaz, if he had used his power on the old governor to make him forget that she was staying in his house. Was he powerful enough to do such a thing? To erase a memory.
A soft knock sounded against the door, and she jolted upright, arm reaching for the discarded turban strewn over the chair. She breathed deeply as she wrapped her hair in quick, sure movements.
A moment later, the door eased open and Yahya carefully stepped inside. He looked at her, face equally drawn and haggard, hesitating a moment before finally moving to sit on the bed.
"I... I keep wondering if there was something I could have done, some way it could have turned out different," she said into the silence.
"There wasn't, Khaya. Trust me."
She shook her head, still consumed by her earlier thoughts. "Maybe if I had heard them sooner we would have been able to capture one of them alive and without bloodshed. This would not have happenedâ"
"Stop." He tilted his chin down, let out a long breath through his nose, as if bracing himself, then pressed his palms against his bowed forehead. "All of us could have done something, but it does not matter right now. There are more pressing concerns."
Finally, he looked up, past the open archway leading to the balcony and into the warm Rey night. His eyes shone like dulled steel, weary and worn from battle. She had never seen him so tired. So lost.
"Something happened to Rehan when we were down there. He has been consumed by visions and portents about these rebels, and he knows I am hiding something."
Khaya nearly burst out of her chair at the news. Her hands gripped the armrests till her knuckles turned white. "What happened? How is he right now?" She had to be careful to lower her voice at this late hour.
Yahya waited for several breaths before answering. "He is afraid, more than I have ever seen him in my life. And truthfully, so am I. The council wants to announce his presence to the city when we still know next to nothing about this kidnapping plot, and these rebels are proving far more destructive than I thought they would be. And sooner or later, Rehan is going to figure out that you are here, too."
Yahya raked a hand through his hair, swallowed drily, and finally looked at her. The desolation was plain in his eyes.
"God, Khayzuran. I don't know what to do."
The revelation hung in the silence of the small room, shattering the perfect apparition of Yahya she had conjured since meeting him. The infallible, the inimitable, the man who was greater than a man.
Khaya's hand went to her throat, where the dangling sapphires shimmered in the low light. Her earlier thoughts of inadequacy and weakness began to claw at her again, and her jaw tightened.
"I think I might."
His eyes narrowed in surprise and curiosity.
"I believe the time has come to remove one of these." She pinched one of the resplendent blue stones between her thumb and forefinger, careful not to tug too hard. "Currently I can only focus my energy for about an hour before I grow unbearably fatigued. I don't know how much power removing one sapphire will grant me, but it's something."
Yahya's expression immediately soured. "Removing the stones this early is dangerous."
"I know, that is why I didn't attempt it on my own. But Iâ we need more power if we want to help him."
Yahya was silent for a long time. "It is not as easy as you make it out to be."
"That is why I need your help."
He turned his chin and stared out towards the balcony again, looking for answers in the starry night.
"When one of the stones is removed, you are granted with a surge of power for a short period, but it is harder to control. The side effects will be similar to when you did not have the necklace at all."
Khaya thought of the night in the desert, when she could hear the sounds of her own blood as she clamped her hands against her ears to block out the sounds of the world, so loud she could scarcely remain conscious.
When she and Yahya were still strangers.
As if reading her thoughts, he glanced sideways at her. "Do you understand what I am saying, Khayzuran?"
"You won't be able to protect me," she murmured.
The silence in the room was stifling as she considered the decision. Her hand went to her shoulder, brushing over the old wounds that had gifted her this power. Whatever the consequence of unlocking her gift, she would have to endure it alone.
"I understand."
Yahya nodded slowly, then moved from the bed down to the floor, and beckoned her to join him there.
"Come closer," he said.
She scooted awkwardly towards him, suddenly conscious about her lack of veil, although Yahya had seen her bare face countless times.
"Give me your hand."
She held out her palm, and he grasped it gently, their skin barely touching. His other hand went to her throat, and her insides constricted at the intimacy of the touch.
"Are you ready?"
She looked down at their hands. "Yes."
The soft snick of the sapphire being pulled from its prongs pierced the silence. Khaya blinked.
Then, the quiet night turned into the eye of a storm. The wind clawed at her ears, the heavy breaths and heartbeats of every soul in the governor's mansion came one after the other in an asynchronous melody. And it did not stop.
Before she could let herself panic, Yahya gripped her hand in his, and she opened her eyes wide as a wave of calm washed over her. The sounds came and came and came, but she did not tear her eyes from his.
She could tell he wanted to speak, to tell her to breathe and be still, but he did not open his mouth for fear of assaulting her senses even more. He merely nodded slowly, an understanding passing between them. The light blue speckles in his eyes seemed to swirl the longer she looked at them.
More and more, the sounds of Rey flooded her senses. Far below, sword scraped against scabbard, shredding the world in two; From even further, a flurry of voices collided, wild animals shrieked in the distant desert.
Each time her heart beat sped up and the fear rose in her throat, Yahya's power coiled around her even tighter, as if he were a python squeezing the life out of her own gift.
It could have been hours or minutes until finally, she could hear nothing beyond the small sounds in the room. The curtains chafing against each other. Her own breaths, coming shallow and fast.
Slowly, Yahya released her hand, and for a moment she did not look away. His jaw clenched tightly, the muscles in his neck taut. A bead of sweat carved a path down the side of his face, and his veins bulged in his forearm, fighting to break free from the confines of his skin.
Heat rippled off his body in waves, and suddenly Khaya felt too close. She looked away first, drawing her eyes down to the edge of the carpet they sat on. A feeling of nervousness curled around her spine, but Yahya appeared stoic as ever.
He rose in a single graceful movement and smoothed his shirt, as if the past few minutes had cost him no effort at all.
"I am going to the eastern quarter to meet my father's informants."
Khaya blinked. "Tonight? Shouldn't you rest?"
His eyes dropped as he turned to the door. "There is no rest for people like me, Khayzuran."
The room was quiet in his absence, and quieter still when Khaya nestled herself in the sheets and fell slowly asleep to a whisper of those words.
People like me.
Was she among those people now? Was she in any way like him, in strength, in resilience, in power and posture?
She would have to be.
X
The days passed in a haze of sound, silence, and solitude. Khaya marked the passage of time with prayer, but still she did not know how long it had been since she saw Yahya last. A maid came with food twice a day, filled her bath water, cleaned up her mess, but sent no word from him.
Some hours felt like she was moving through water, faraway voices echoing and indiscernible. Others she could look into herself, hear the way her blood meandered beneath her skin, how it moved from her heart through her lungs and down to her toes and up again. Even asleep, the heartbeat of the world invaded her dreams, painting a picture so vivid she felt in a state of constant waking.
In a brief moment of silence, she found the strength to sit in the centre of the room and focus on a single point. Her eyes fluttered closed as she looked for Rehan, jumping from pulse to pulse, and found him alone in the hall of private audience.
She deepened her breathing, and the image painted itself on the black canvas of her eyelids, him sitting by the window and looking out over the expanse of Rey.
After a while she opened her eyes and went to the balcony. Pale marble minarets pierced the clouds, the turquoise stonework of their spires so indiscernible from the blue of the sky Khaya could not tell where the heavens ended and the city began. She leaned against the wall and stretched her hand out to the banister, and it was as if he was right beside her, breathing the same air, seeing the same pattern of clouds above and winding roads below.
Someone was coming.
She did not need to strain herself or close her eyes to concentrate on the two sources any more, they simply came to her as a tide to a shore, effortless. Was this the latent power that single sapphire was holding on to?
She heard Rehan turn away from the window and stride across the room to greet someoneâ
Yahya.
"Is all as I requested?"
Fabric rustled as Yahya shifted on his feet. "Yes, the flags are ready to be displayed on all major towers, mosques, and the aqueduct pillars."
"And the gold?"
Heavy footsteps were fast approaching Khaya's door. She would be cornered if she remained on the balcony, but the room was so bare there was no better place to hide, so she drew the curtains over the archway and stayed stone still. Her hand hovered over the dagger at her hip.
Above, Rehan and Yahya's conversation continued without pause, and she discerned every word despite drawing her attention away from them.
She truly had grown stronger.
"Gold, silver, gemstones, Firaz has pulled out chests of them for you. He's set aside his best horse as well."
The man, for only a man could have such self assured strides unaccompanied, stopped outside her door, at ease. He did not feel the need to knock, and pushed open the door to the silence of her room. She heard his soft, even footsteps pad around the room, the fabric of his clothes swish as he turned his frame to observe his surroundings.
"Come out, Khayzuran, I know you are here."
Khaya's teeth gritted and she closed her hand around the dagger's hilt. She knew this voice.
Sharan al-Barmaki.
How had he discovered her? Why was he here? She only feared he was here to capture her and present her to Rehan as a spy, which now she could not even deny.
He padded around the room, not that there was much area to cover. She sensed he stood by the wardrobeâ a safe distance from the balcony. It would only be a matter of time before he decided to draw the curtain.
"Do not be afraid," he said to the emptiness, "Yahya has revealed all to me. I know why you both have come."
Khaya slowly peeled her fingers off the dagger. Dozens of questions swirled in her mind, but staying hidden would not bring her answers. She pulled back the curtain with a flourish and stepped into the pool of light that fell into the room after her. Her face fell into shadow as his illuminated. He stood with his arms behind his back, posture tall and poised. Disciplined.
"You know, for a moment I didn't believe him," he said, a faint smile curling the end of his lips.
"I would not have, either, Emir al-Barmaki."
Khaya did not know how much Yahya had truly said, both about the threat to Rehan and her jinn-gifted power. She was reminded of the Calipha's teachings to keep information close, and thus did not speak further until Sharan did.
"A farcical tale indeed, better suited to the epic verses of Zuhayr or ibn Shaddad, although I would be inclined to say the same of all the pure blooded Barmakis."
By 'pure blooded' he must mean Yahya and Ayaan, and perhaps herself as well. Still, she did not comment on it.
"May I ask what you are doing here, Emir?"
He took a step forward into the sunlight, and the threads of silver in his qamis sparkled. How finely dressed he was for a man strategising a war, Khaya thought.
"You know of the Umayyad sympathisers the city is currently polluted with, yes?"
She more than knew, she had witnessed Rehan slaying them, watched their bodies hit the stone floor and their wet blood pool by her feet, but she merely nodded.
"Rehan plans to lead a procession through the city and address the people of Rey, partly as an intimidation tactic to the rebels, partly to raise morale. Seeing as that will leave him exposed to hundreds of people, I have devised a plan to ensure his safety which involves the use of your particular... talents."
So, he did know. A new fear coiled around Khaya's throat, and she was almost reluctant to speak.
"... Does Rehan know?"
Sharan brought his hands out from behind his back and folded them neatly in front of the wide sash around his waist. His aplomb and courtly parlance infuriated Khaya, and made her see how good a tactician he truly was. Already she felt discomfited by the brief pause, and just by voicing that single question she had lost her advantage.
"No," he finally said, and though his expression was placid, his aura radiated pleasure from the way she had braced for the answer. "Yahya only told me. He thought you would make a formidable ally among our ranks."
Now his gaze changed, the dispassionate grey of his irises turning a shade darker as they scrutinised her.
"He seems to trust you immensely, but I am not as quick to give credence. An unknown woman new to court, with powers so perfectly apt for surveillance placed in close proximity to our Prince..."
Khaya sucked in a sharp breath of disbelief, and could hardly compose herself before he continued.
"And I have no doubt as a concubine you must possess staggering beauty beneath that veil as well. It would be rudimental for you to use your feminine wiles to lure the Prince far from our protection, where your conspirators would be laying in wait toâ"
"Enough," she cried. Blood pulsed in her fingertips as she balled her fists, her whole body burning with rage. "How dare you say something so vile and slanderous?!" Her eyes prickled with painful emotion, her voice on the verge of breaking as she said, "The concubines you are accustomed to may be capable of such heinous acts, but I assure you, Emir, I am not. Every action of mine has been in service to Prince Rehan."
"Why should I believe you won't change your mind and turn on him when it suits you?"
Tears mottled her vision. "It will never suit me."
"Why?"
"Because I love him!"
For a heavy moment she felt she could no longer breathe, like she was no longer standing in this room but somewhere else entirely. Khaya blinked, and the swollen tears she had fought so hard to keep tucked in her eyelids wet the edge of her lashes.
Sharan's tranquil expression had not changed despite her outburst.
Eventually, he smiled. "It seems I can trust you after all, Al-Khayzuran bint Atta."
For what better sign of trust was there than love? So easily he had made music strumming the oud of her soul, provoking her to reveal her true intentions. There was a reason he was the Caliph's chief strategist.
Khaya turned around and used the edge of her headscarf to dab away the dampness in her eyes, attempting to muster some modicum of dignity in front of this stranger.
"Though I do not envy anyone who dares to love a king," he added.
She remained facing away from him. "Beneath the crown he is just a man, that is why I dare."
Sharan's mouth curved up in amusement. "You mistakenly think he can be separated from his crown."
Khaya looked over her shoulder, opening her eyes wide so he would see their redness. "I am tiring of this, Emir. What is your plan?"
Sharan finally placed his hands behind his back and lowered his eyes, concluding their verbal joust.
And then, he told her what he intended her to do.
X
Dear readers, thanks so much for your patience as I wrote and rewrote this chapter. I had written so much of it and deleted so much, I couldn't decide which direction to go in. I also got to a point where I was thinking of deleting the entire concept of the Barmakis/Khaya having powers, which was a really serious and big plot edit.
Ultimately I realised that I just have to let the story go somewhere, and then if it isn't right I can always change it later. So I am going to try and be less self-judgemental when writing and let the story flow. Changes and edits will come later, even if I have to delete and rewrite everything eventually.
Thanks again for waiting! I will never leave this story until it is finished, so thanks for sticking by me too.
Please leave a comment and tell me what you think!