The Theft of Sunlight by Intisar Khanani (story reading .TXT) 📕

pausing only to clean my bone knife before strapping it back onto my calf. I do not want it on me, do not want to remember what I have done with it, but I would be a fool to pretend it didn’t save my life—all of our lives. At least in its calf sheath, I do not have to look at it. That done, I wrap Niya’s sash around my waist again, pretending that the scattered brown spots on it are anything but blood. I almost take it off again, but Niya gave it to me as a protection, and I don’t dare leave it behind. I make myself let it go, and ease on my new riding boots. They may not be quite appropriate for the occasion, but they will give my ankle the support it needs, and that’s all I care about right now.

Ready, I hurry back to the royal apartments. The royals have gathered in Kestrin’s apartments, and this time the king has joined us as well as Melkior. Kestrin gestures me to a sofa, and I ease myself down gratefully as Matsin launches into his report. I listen, but as he progresses to the attacks, I find I don’t want to hear this at all. I hunch my shoulders and stare at the carpets underfoot, looking up only occasionally to track the reactions of the royals. Mostly, I am grateful for the way Matsin brushes over the violence.

Melkior listens with an expression that morphs from disbelief to outrage. Alyrra and Kestrin grow progressively more grim as they listen, and the king . . . it’s hard to say what the king thinks. He maintains a steady calm, but his expression hardens slightly over the course of Matsin’s recitation. I can only hope that means he too is infuriated by the betrayal of the river guard and their attempt to kill us, or keep us captive in the hold.

“We lost one man,” Matsin finishes. “Selej en Tharo. I’ll inform his widow tonight, and request permission to offer her three years’ pay compensation.”

“You may,” the king says, and Matsin nods his thanks.

I repeat the man’s name to myself, a mantra of what was risked and lost. Selej en Tharo. Selej en Tharo.

“I don’t understand how they expected to get away with it,” Kestrin says, sitting back. “Garrin was there—were you not, cousin? They must have known you would notice that Matsin, Kelari Amraeya, and their quad had not left. They could not have expected to kill you too. It makes no sense to me.”

I look up, taken aback. He’s right, it doesn’t make sense.

But Garrin shakes his head. “All Grefan would have had to tell me was that Kelari Amraeya and her escort had already departed. If Diara commandeered the carriage and had it driven away, I wouldn’t have thought to ask. I was at the river warden’s office, and didn’t realize what was happening until it was already over, and Matsin and his men had fought their way free.”

“A desperate move by them, though,” Kestrin says slowly.

“That, or an overconfident one,” the king says. “Did you notice anything on board the galley that would have marked it as one used regularly for transporting slaves? If we are to investigate Berenworth, it would be useful to know if there are any markers of a slave boat.”

Matsin hesitates, glancing toward me. “The room we discovered was hidden behind a false wall in the stern of the cargo hold, tarin. Beyond that . . .”

“There was a ward above the door, as well, tarin,” I say. “I believe it is what hides the children from being traced. Perhaps, knowing what it is, a mage might be able to trace those who have been snatched past such a protection.” The king will know that the Circle isn’t to be trusted—Kestrin and Alyrra will make sure of it. Perhaps Kestrin can inspect the ward himself.

The king nods. “Garrin, see that the ward is removed from the boat and brought here for assessment.”

“Tarin,” Garrin agrees.

I look down, relief flooding through me. If the king himself is involved now, surely the snatchers will be stopped. This work will continue, and Berenworth will be properly investigated, and even if the thrice-cursed Circle isn’t brought down, the snatchers themselves will be stopped.

“Melkior, I’ll want an investigation into how the river guards could be so corrupted that they would attack our own palace guards,” the king adds. “A full review of the river guard should be conducted.”

Melkior agrees, and then asks a few more questions of Matsin, and one or two of me, and the nobles discuss the need to impound the rest of Berenworth’s ships at the dock and search each one.

“I’ll use my own men,” Garrin says. “If I am still to be involved? I’ll make sure each hold is fully searched, and I trust my men to do a good job of it. I am only grateful that Kelari Amraeya insisted on such a careful search this first time.”

“It is between you and Melkior,” the king says. “Though it might be easier for you if you step back.”

“Easier, yes,” Garrin says, rubbing a hand over his head. “But I’ve seen those children now, and I—I should like to be involved.”

He hadn’t seemed particularly caring of the children, but then, he may not have many children in his life. It is not as if children are a part of the court. Perhaps Garrin simply doesn’t know how to interact with them, even if he cares. And there were certainly other concerns pressing on him.

“As you wish,” Melkior says now. “I should be grateful to have you at the helm of such an investigation. It will ease the way considerably.”

Garrin dips his head. “It is my honor.”

And as simply as that, I am no longer needed. Everything I have been pushing myself toward these last few weeks has been achieved in this: the establishment of a formal investigation into the snatchers, led by one of the highest nobles of the realm, with