Traitor to the Throne

I could’ve gone back to the harem. But I wanted to be there even less than I wanted to be here. When it got too dark to see, Tamid started to work his way around the room, his metal leg clicking with every step, lighting oil lamps as he went.

There was a book open on the table. I noticed it as the lamp above it came alive. A picture fiercer than any of the faded drawings I’d ever seen in the books that found their way down to Dustwalk glared out of the pages. It was a Djinni made of blue fire standing next to a girl with blue eyes with the sun in her hands.

Princess Hawa.

‘Do you have anything to drink in here?’ I asked finally when the last lamp was lit and I couldn’t take it any more. ‘Remember in Dustwalk, when anybody died, everybody got together for a drink to honour the dead. Or are you too holy to drink now?’

‘Did you drink to me, after you left me for dead?’ Tamid asked, shaking out the match.

After leaving Dustwalk I remembered drinking with Jin in a bar in Sazi. I didn’t even know why I was drinking then. I wanted to say I was sorry again. But my silence spoke for me.

Tamid pulled open a cupboard. It was lined with jars and bottles of stuff that looked more like poison than booze. But he reached towards the back and pulled out a half-empty bottle with the label scratched off. There was no mistaking the amber liquid inside. ‘I only drank because you were a bad influence, anyway.’ He pulled the cork from the bottle.

‘I only have one glass.’ He poured a measure into a glass and another into an empty jar. ‘I don’t get that many guests around here.’ He handed me the jar.

That wasn’t what it had looked like with Leyla, but maybe they had better things to do than drink together. ‘The jar is clean, I promise. If I wanted you dead, you’re right, I could’ve already done it.’

‘To the dead,’ I said. I took a sip, burning away the smart retort on the tip of my tongue before I could say something I’d regret. ‘Who weren’t so lucky as me.’

Tamid rolled his glass between his palms. ‘I didn’t think you’d care about Shira.’

I wished I had it in me to be angry about that. But he wasn’t wrong. The girl I was when I’d left Tamid bleeding in the sand wouldn’t have cared. But the world was bigger than Dustwalk, it turned out. ‘Well, I guess you were wrong.’

We fell silent again as I sipped at my liquor, letting it burn on the way down. Tamid just stared at his own glass. Finally he seemed to decide something. ‘Leyla says you’re planning to abduct me.’

‘Abduct is an awfully strong word.’ I’d accused Jin of abducting me once. But we’d both known that was a lie. I’d wanted to go. Even if it had meant leaving Tamid. ‘But yeah, more or less.’

‘Why? Is it just that you don’t want me helping the Sultan any more?’ He didn’t look at me. ‘Or did Leyla just ask you too sweetly to refuse? Or is it that – what was it you said? You’re in the business of saving lives now?’ There was scorn on his tongue but he was giving me a chance to be honest with him. I couldn’t waste it.

‘Because I wouldn’t leave you behind if I got the chance again.’ It slipped out as easily as only the truth could. My gaze was fixed on his fake leg. ‘You never wanted to run away with me.’

‘And that was a reason to leave me to die, was it?’ It had been the wrong thing to say. He leaned away from me, taking away whatever small distance I’d closed between us by saving him on the balcony. By sharing a drink with him here.

‘That’s not what I meant and you know it.’ I didn’t want to fight with him. I didn’t want to fight any more at all today. I just wanted my friend back when I’d already lost one to the executioner. ‘I’m just saying, you wouldn’t even run away from somewhere you hated with your oldest friend. I’m having trouble imagining that you’ve now become the sort to run off with a princess. Are you really going to leave with Leyla? You’re not going to try to snitch on us to her father?’ I tried to sound disinterested. But a lot of folk would die if Tamid decided he was loyal to the Sultan. ‘You can’t blame me for having my doubts. Between the two of us, there’s only one who’s in a habit of running away with royalty.’

Tamid looked up at me over his glass so fast I knew he’d been faking disinterest in me. ‘That foreigner who stole the Buraqi was royalty?’

I realised I’d said it without meaning to. Slipped out as natural as if I could still trust Tamid.

‘His name is Jin,’ I said. ‘And yes.’

‘Where is he now?’

I’d managed not to ask myself that question since Ayet had caught me with Sam in the garden. But in that moment, when I was sure she was going to turn us in and it was all going to end, one stupid thought had flitted through my head.

I wasn’t ever going to see Jin again.

I might die and he was off doing God knew what, God knew where, with God knew who.

The thought that had chased it was selfish: If he were here, Jin wouldn’t let me die. He would leave the captured Djinn in the Sultan’s hands, risk everything, before he’d let me die.

‘Your guess is as good as mine.’ I drank.

‘Not all that great being left behind by someone you’re in love with, is it?’ Tamid raised his glass in a salute before taking a sip.

You only ever thought you were in love with me. But I couldn’t say it out loud. That caught me off guard. ‘No,’ I admitted into my drink. ‘It’s not.’ We were silent. ‘What about you and Leyla?’ I asked finally. ‘Where will you two go if we do get you out?’