‘Let’s see how much he wants you now that you look like a boy.’ Ayet wound a piece of my slaughtered hair around her finger with a sneer.

Anger rushed through me, fiercer than anything so stupid and vain warranted. But I didn’t care if it was stupid and vain. I moved as fast as I knew how, lunging for her. Before she could so much as flinch, the scissors were in my hand. I might not be able to hurt her, but she didn’t know that. I pressed the blade against her throat and had the satisfaction of watching her eyes widen.

‘Listen to me.’ I had a grip on the front of her khalat before she could make a run for it. ‘I have bigger things to deal with than your jealousy about your husband’s wandering eyes. So why don’t you go take this out on someone who actually wants to steal him from you.’

Ayet laughed bitterly, throat moving against the blunt scissors pressed to her neck. ‘You really think this is jealousy? You think I want Kadir? What I want is to survive the harem. This place is a battlefield. And I think you must know that. Or else what did you do with Mouhna and Uzma?’

‘What are you talking about?’ Trying as hard as I could to stay out of the way of Kadir and his wives, I hadn’t been in the harem enough to notice anything about Uzma since she’d tried to humiliate me in court.

‘Uzma has disappeared.’ Ayet sneered, but I could see the fear behind those eyes now. Girls like her were dropping like flies and all she had to protect herself was a pair of scissors. ‘Just like Mouhna. People vanish out of the harem all the time. But Kadir only has three Mirajin wives. And then you arrive and two of them disappear. Do you think that’s a coincidence?’

‘No.’ Coincidence didn’t have so cruel a sense of humour. Jin said that to me once. ‘But I know this wasn’t me.’

*

It took me until midmorning the next day to find Shira. She was sprawled across a throne of cushions in the shade of a huge tree, attended by a half dozen servants. Two women stood guard, while one laid cool cloths on her skin, another fanned her, and another massaged her feet. The last one was immobile but ready, sweat beading down from the lip of the pitcher over her hands. She looked flushed and uncomfortable standing just outside of the shade.

It looked like the future Sultan of Miraji already had his own court, even if he was really the son of a fake Blue-Eyed Bandit. And Shira was taking advantage of it for the few weeks left before she gave birth to him. She was a long way from Dustwalk now.

As I got closer, one of the servants standing guard blocked my path. ‘The blessed Sultima has no desire for company today.’ Sure, the blessed Sultima looks as solitary as a hermit today. It was on the tip of my tongue, but my Demdji side didn’t recognise the difference between sarcasm and a lie. I had to satisfy myself with raising my eyebrow at the small crowd surrounding her. The woman didn’t seem to appreciate the irony.

‘Shira,’ I called out, over the servant’s shoulder. She lifted her head enough to squint at me, sucking on a date pit between her fingers. She pulled an annoyed face but waved her hand.

‘Let her through.’ The servant moved aside reluctantly. I gave Shira a pointed look. With another dramatic sigh she dismissed them. Everything from the wave of her fingers to the sprawl of her body looked lazy, but her sharp eyes never left me. ‘So that’s what Ayet wanted scissors for,’ she said by way of greeting, as her court dissipated. ‘I was wondering. You know, I thought about cutting it all off back in Dustwalk when you slept a few feet away from me, but I actually worried short hair might suit you.’ She tilted her head. ‘I guess I was wrong.’

‘You got Sam to smuggle you in a pair of scissors?’ I caught myself tugging on the ends where they didn’t quite reach my shoulders and dropped my hand. But not before Shira caught the gesture.

‘You’re surprised?’ She ran her hands along her swollen middle.

I supposed I shouldn’t be. Shira and Sam might not be anything more than a means to an end for each other, but she was carrying a child that meant something to both of them. Still, I’d figured Sam was with us now. The notion that he might still be getting into other trouble we didn’t know about while smuggling information for us made me uneasy. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t just a little bit angry he could be so cummy with me, all while handing over tools to humiliate me with when I wasn’t looking.

‘Just be grateful I refused to procure her a knife. A slit throat would suit you even less than’ – she waved a hand vaguely – ‘that.’

I swallowed back a retort. I couldn’t get into a war of words with my cousin just now. ‘What kind of game are you playing, Shira?’

‘It’s called survival.’ Shira extended a hand towards me, opening and closing her fingers like a demanding child. I took her hand, helping her sit up so she could look at me straight on instead of from the ground. She moved slowly, one hand splayed protectively over her middle. ‘I would do anything for the survival of my son.’

‘And what are you going to do if your son is born looking like Sam?’ I challenged. ‘Blue eyes look awfully suspicious on desert folks, I can tell you that much.’

‘He won’t be.’ She said it with such determination I could almost believe she could truth-tell it into existence even though I was the Demdji here. ‘I haven’t done all this just to fail at the end. Do you know how hard I have worked to never be alone here in the harem since it became known that I was pregnant? I traded those scissors for a secret from Ayet that I can hold on to like a shield against her. Because I need to keep her away from me more than I need to keep her away from you. Don’t get me wrong, you’re an excellent distraction, but when I give birth it is over for his other wives unless they can give him a son, too. And they can’t. And they all know that. So do you honestly think Ayet is above doing away with a pregnant girl to keep herself alive? I’ve seen what you’d do for survival, Amani. I know you understand.’