Sky Stitcher, page 21
I turned toward the balcony to hide the way my eyes pricked with tears. The terrace opened to the same courtyard visible from my room, and my gaze lifted from the rectangular pool, wondering which of the archways around the square led to Rue. I wished he was here.
The whole affair felt somber. The atmosphere fell hush, save for the gurgling fountain, the soft tinkling of jewelry, and the subtle clink of plates and cutlery as the Daughters helped themselves to the spread of food.
I’d lost my appetite.
My Sisters busied themselves for hours, preparing me for the ceremony while I silently prayed to Halah for the first time in my life, begging for her refusal to bless our union. I knew better than to use magic to weave my soul to hers when I prayed, but still, I hoped she’d hear the prayers echoing fervently in my mind as my Sisters braided my hair and swept kohl across my lashes.
Let the stars choke and fade to darkness, the flames of every lamp extinguish, and the city fade to blackest night. Let no light shine upon us, so the whole realm sees our union is unblessed. Please Halah. But I dared not ask her for what I truly desired—for then, my prayers would almost certainly offend her. The venom at the pit of my stomach spread, warming my body with increasing waves of anger as my Mother and Sisters fretted over my appearance, readying me for the union I did not want.
Every time I made another effort to object, each time I raised my voice to protest or question Halah’s decisions, Mother’s eyes bulged with a scolding glare, prohibiting me from speaking anymore, communicating volumes in the way her jaw clenched, or her eyes darted warily to the guards. She did not want to discuss it. “May Halah guide you to serve your duties to the Daughters,” she said, her voice lowering with a layered intensity, weaving meanings within meanings beneath meanings. Secrets I couldn’t decipher any better than I could weave.
Mother held a bone-handled mirror in front of me, circling my head so I could see the beautiful design my Sisters had worked with my hair. A series of braids swept past my temples, looping through a trio of large golden hoops, interlocked and placed behind my head like a crown. My hair wove through each of the loops, gathering below the third and smallest ring, spilling along my back in soft waves.
Juna removed her dangling earrings and fixed them to my ears, her grimace masquerading as a smile. Lurah tied strips of beautiful blue gauze to the ends of my braids. The lustrous threads woven throughout the fabric gleamed in the sun, singing her talents. Sessu did not tease me or smirk when she approached, but her lips entertained the phantom of a smile when she unhooked the clasp of her necklace and fastened it behind my neck. Each of the Daughters adorned me with a personal gift, some token passed directly from their wardrobe to mine. A tradition to honor the permanence of sisterhood even after a Daughter left to begin her own family.
Finally, Mother stood before me. “You look beautiful, Zara.” She reached her weathered hands behind her head, fiddling with the swooping braids wound into a crown. The emerald eye of the serpentine hairpin glinted in the sun, her fingers curled around it when she presented it to me with a smile that bordered on misery.
I dipped my chin forward so she could reach the back of my head, and she slid the hairpin into place, then gripped my hands in hers. A piece of parchment rustled between our hands, passed from her palm into mine.
“I am so proud of you,” she whispered. “I have always been so proud of you, even if I failed to show it. You are…remarkable. You always have been.” Her lips wobbled, lost halfway between frowning and the desire to smile, a bittersweet tint of unspoken words lingering at the corner of her mouth.
I curled my hands into fists and placed them in my lap, heart pounding dangerously against my ribcage as I resisted the temptation to unfurl the parchment that burned like fire in my hand, begging me to open it. But I smiled at Mother, adjusted the band of my skirt, and discreetly folded the paper into the beaded waist. Whatever was written on it would have to wait. It was clearly meant to stay hidden.
“Good Halah! You are not even dressed yet!” a shrill voice squawked somewhere behind us. The woman with cropped hair and amber eyes raced toward us, her heels clipping against the tile, her legs restricted by the strange flute of a dress she wore.
“Basmina?” I asked, finally fishing her name from my memory.
“Yes, yes, hurry, dear. The sunset is coming. We must get you down to Stargate before dark. Up. Up.” She turned to my Sisters. “Where is her gown? Why is she not dressed yet? You’ve been with her for hours. Why does this always take so long?”
Mother nodded to the dressing screen in the corner of the terrace. Layers of tapestries woven by the Daughters draped over it, creating the perfect shelter of privacy between the screen and wall. Basmina grabbed my hands and pulled me along, practically shoving me behind it. The toe of my sandal snagged on the uneven sandstone. When I regained my balance, my eyes leveled upon the most beautiful gown clipped to the top of the screen, so gorgeous it made my heart ache with the waste of its beauty on such an unhappy occasion.
Delicate lace woven by the Daughters spilled to the ground, tiny crystals splattered in clusters along the bodice and train, glimmering like little constellations. A high-necked collar defined the regally elegant tone of the dress but split into a deep plunge, stopping just between the bust, where it trailed into a line of carefully placed buttons. The hue reminded me of smoky quartz, almost purple but too mystical to be defined by just one color. It was…exceptional.
You are exceptional, Rue’s words echoed in my mind, dragging like the blade of a dagger over my heart.
“Hurry up!” Basmina called impatiently, as if I hadn’t heard her demands to hasten my progress the first few times. As if I wasn’t uncomfortably aware of the way her foot tapped impatiently below the screen before she gave up her fidgeting and set to pacing instead.
I dropped my eyes from the dress, and my gaze darted toward the opening between the dressing screen and the wall, checking for unwanted witnesses. Instead of undressing, I quietly unwrapped the small curl of parchment that Mother had passed me.
The letters on the note were scrawled in haste, mere smudges of kohl against the parchment, but if I squinted, I could make out the words. I scanned it, and my heart thundered with increasing urgency after every word.
Zara. Read fast so they do not suspect. We cannot speak freely in front of the guards. We promised to keep his secrets so we could see you, but we had to devise a way to warn you. If you are reading this, Sessu’s plan and hair styling worked.
The prince is a liar…an ally of Prisha. He’s trapped us, Zara. He’s kept us sheltered in a skyless room so we could not pray. The Eldress, too. None of the Daughters are safe in this city. We must get out. Help us. Please.
We will pray to Halah to intervene at the union when all the Daughters are together. We need your help…your strength. You must help us find a way out of here. Please.
Destroy the paper.
I crushed the paper in my fist. That was their plan? To pray? That wasn’t enough. My jaw tightened, imagining the prince’s neck clenched in my hand instead of the note. How dare he side with Prisha and invite Halah’s Daughters into his home? Was it the same prince my elder Sisters and Aunts had spoken of before Ja' Rilaht? The one…bending the rules?
The tendrils of light glimmered into existence around me, responding to my call and racing toward me, winding around my fingers. But as soon as they touched me, they warped. Their light faded, the glow evaporating to leave behind the absence of light…roiling wisps of shadow. The darkness writhed like snakes around my hand, charged with energy and imbued with the anger that gripped me. I watched, both captivated and terrified by the way they bent to my will, shredding the paper in my hand and disintegrating it into dust. What…was that?
Star Thief. Destroy. Destroy it all. Shred the skies and set me free, Prisha crooned, her voice a twisting dagger in my chest.
No, I said to Prisha, my voice firm with unwavering defiance.
I snatched the gown from the clips and stepped into it. If there’s anything I’m going to destroy, it’s a wedding…and your prince.
Then you.
Chapter 22
Star Well Tea
Basmina clapped with delight when I emerged from behind the screen, dressed with confidence constructed by my resolve, though I guessed she assumed it to be an effect of the gown. She steered me toward a looking glass, clutching my shoulders as she assessed my reflection with a look of admiration. I stared back at myself. Certainty lifted my chin and squared my shoulders, painting my visage with a look of empowerment that glowed more convincingly than a touch of lip oil or blush could ever hope to replicate. I’d find a way to help my Sisters. I’d bring an end to their suffering and restore our home. I had to.
I turned away, meeting Mother’s stony and unflinching gaze, willing her to understand that I knew. That I’d fight this as relentlessly as she hoped I would…that I would destroy anyone who meant to harm them and free them once and for all. From the prince. From Rashii. From Prisha’s clutches.
Basmina mistook the smoldering look of anger on my face for one of demure acceptance. Nothing more than a bride prepared to fulfill the duties of an unwanted union. “It will be all right,” she said, her expression thawing as she patted my shoulder.
Basmina chattered with animated gestures, leading me through the palace as she explained the customs of the ceremony and the itinerary of the evening. “The grand vizier will pour the star well tea, and when the steam settles, you will both peer into the teacup. If it has captured the light of stars, it means the ancestors favor the union, and you must pass the cup to one another to take a sip.”
I nodded at the right times and plastered an expression of attentiveness on my face, but my mind continued to race, my pulse quickening at an alarming rate. The beautiful style my Sisters had crafted with my hair already loosened and strands pasted themselves to my neck with sweat. I was certain my makeup fared no better.
“The Daughters will weave and ask for Halah’s blessing. Once she has demonstrated her approval, the union will be successful, and the grand feast will begin. You will be expected to visit with guests…they like it when you tell them they’ve been blessed by Halah, too.”
“What kind of a demonstration?” I interrupted before she could continue. That part seemed important—I couldn’t allow the people to believe my union with Rali had been blessed, for I had no intention of following through with that part of the plan.
“It is different every time. You will know.”
Of course. They would search for a sign of Halah’s blessing and be satisfied with even the smallest hint of her approval. They would see her blessing wherever they looked. A flicker of a candle. A light appearing in a darkened window. The twinkling dance of the stars above. Any suggestion of Halah’s light would suffice to convince them. If only I’d learned to stitch the skies like Ahma…I’d stitch every star out of existence in anticipation of tonight.
The stars favor you, Zara.
My gaze moved skyward to the dying gold of the sunset and the spreading darkness that welcomed the stars to witness A’i Halajan. You’d better favor me tonight, I grumbled at them, hoping Rue’s infuriating nonsense might actually hold some merit.
The Daughters trailed somberly behind us, keeping to our shadows. My thoughts drifted, wildly weaving together a plan of my own while only half-attending to Basmina’s continuous jabber. If the Daughters had been invited to attend the ceremony, I would only need to play my part long enough to allow them to gather. Long enough to confront Rali. I’d demand he bring me to see the prince, then the Eldress. And Rue…I need Rue.
The tether binding us tugged in response to my thoughts, as though he understood, as though he could feel my desires flow through the connection. The bond pulled with every step toward the palace’s central courtyard, and my breaths tightened, fresh pain stabbing through my heart in response.
The grand courtyard opened like a wide mouth before the palace, speckled by the many flecks of color in the crowd. Banners waved above their heads, a tribute to all the cities gathered to witness the union of Halah’s Daughter. Vibrant music and excited chatter filled the air—a section of the crowd clapped delightedly around a dancing couple, cheering on their movements with the ringing of bright laughter.
Basmina steered me to the far end of the courtyard, shielding me from the crowd’s view by angling her body in front of mine. A pair of sandstone steps curved downward from the main portico of the palace, the shimmering granite columns that Basmina dreamily referred to as Stargate.
“You’ll meet at the top.” She had to shout into my ear to be heard over the revelry, and my body stiffened at her words. I paused, foot hovering, my will flickering just like the candles that lined the edge of every step. What exactly would I say to Rali? I didn’t want to marry him…but that didn’t mean I wished to embarrass him publicly. He didn’t need to be caught up in all of this mess. I just…needed to talk to him. I craned my neck to the mirrored staircase at the other end of the portico. If he was there…waiting on his side to ascend to Stargate for the ceremony…
My foot dropped back to the ground, and I shoved past a wide-eyed Basmina, hugging the curved base of the wall. Rushing past the gathered crowd, I ignored the faces gawking at me, their mouths open and their eyebrows lifted in shock as though they’d never seen a bride panic. “I just…I need to talk to Rali,” I muttered to no one in particular. Silence spread through the onlookers, rising up like a dust cloud, suffocating the joyous sounds of their festivities. Perhaps I was the first Daughter to ever run away from a union…but it certainly wasn’t the first time I’d skirted my duties.
My heart thundered when Rali appeared, weaving through the people, his eyes locking on mine. When he emerged from the crowd, the spectators froze, the air growing too dense and still in the absence of their breath. He marched toward me, black brows lifted in concern, his jaw tightened so severely it strained the muscles in his neck. I became acutely aware of the attention of the crowd—the lull as they craned their heads, hoping for a glimpse of whatever drama I’d incited. The chatter returned with a rush of animated voices.
Rali grabbed my arm, a gesture that looked reassuring to the crowd, but I felt the way his nails dug into my skin. I felt the anger of his gaze, hidden beneath his carefully crafted concern. My mouth parted, eyes settling upon the golden circlet atop his head. I stared too long, breathless—my weight shifting backward to re-establish the distance between us. That was why the crowd broke into furious whispers.
“It’s you,” I croaked hoarsely because my voice failed me. “You’re the prince.” A dimple formed above his lopsided smile.
“Yes,” he responded, as if taxed by my acknowledgment of the obvious. “Prince Tiralish. Heir to the Sun Throne.”
I shook my head, words assembling into a tidal wave of raging fury, drowning away my initial shock. I glared back at him, words seething through clenched teeth, “You lied to me.”
His eyes darkened, a raging venom spilling into them, warning me to hold my tongue. “Obviously,” he droned, dropping his facade of endearment for me. “How else could I have arranged the union I needed with you? The Daughters would not entertain the idea of a match with Prince Tiralish, but they readily fell in love with the handsome guard named Rali.” He gripped my arm, angling intentionally toward the base of the stairs so my words could not be read by the crowd. I flailed against his hold, freeing my arm with one sharp movement.
“How many people knew?” How many had lied to me on his behalf?
“Does it matter? It seems everyone knows now.”
“You know this union cannot happen. Halah will not allow it.”
“If you want to see your precious Eldress again, I suggest you play along nicely,” he whispered into my ear, all smoke and acrid venom. “I don’t require Halah’s blessing to get what I want, though I don’t think she would deny one who carries her blood. But,” he drawled, “it would be nice of you to humor the crowd’s expectations. For the people’s sake.”
My spine grew rigid. Thoughts collided, smacking against one another until my mind shrieked into a cacophony of incomprehensible noise. What did he mean by ‘carries her blood?’ Surely, he must have meant me…a prince could not have been allowed to descend from the goddess’s lineage. Unions between royals and descendants were banned. Just like this one should be.
“Don’t flinch.” He pulled me closer, his chest flush against mine as his lips claimed me. The crowd swooned in appreciation, but my legs solidified into lead, and my body melted out of my control like a tapered candle bending in half, wax drooping in the desert sun.
He pressed his forehead to mine so that horrible circlet bit into my skin. I gaped back at him, wide-eyed with horror. Do something, Zara. The heart of stars hummed inside me, but I shoved it down, terrified that the prince might notice. That everyone might notice the monstrous power inside of me. Find a different way to fight.
A guard trotted urgently toward Prince Tiralish, his cheeks puffed and red, his mouth rounded with shallow breaths. “Your Highness. Guards on the wall. Slaughtered.”
Tiralish ripped his attention from me, but not his hand. His grip remained firmly clasped around my upper arm. “And?” the prince asked, his tone lethal.
“Khazdruki work. Venom-tipped arrows.” The guard’s efforts to maintain a professional composure before his prince failed—I heard the crack of fear in his voice that matched the look in his eyes.
“Fuck,” Tiralish growled under his breath, twisting his head with a violent shake of frustration before recovering command. “Find them.” He drew in a deep breath, too greedy for air, like a cloud amassing too much water before the rare deluges of the wet season. His storm was on the verge of unleashing.
