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

“I’ll try,” he says.

I offer him a hand up. Between that and the wall, he’s able to stand, but the first step he takes leaves him gasping and clinging to me. My ankle throbs as I take his weight.

“Looks like we’d better get you to a healer,” I say as cheerfully as I can. “I’ll walk you there. Come.”

The going is slow, for I must support the boy without putting too much strain on my own ankle. We stay close to the wall, and I periodically pause to let him lean against it so that we can both rest. My mind spins around and around what I’ve learned, trying to ferret out the best way to phrase my explanation to the princess.

As we reach the next courtyard, the boy gestures with his chin. “There’s a shortcut that way, kelari. Servants’ passages, if you don’t mind.”

Anything to deliver him to the healers quicker, get this additional weight off my ankle, and go on to Alyrra. We turn down an empty hall, the sound of our passage echoing slightly. I don’t see any servants, but the hall is certainly nowhere near as ornate as the usual palace halls, or as wide. Most of the doors opening onto the hall are closed, but here and there one stands open. I glance through the first to see an empty storage room.

“Not much farther,” the boy says, as if comforting me.

“No,” I agree. I’ll start with Garrin’s absence during the fight on the boat—

An arm snakes around my throat and yanks me back, pulling me off my feet. My mouth gapes open, but I cannot get any breath, my feet scrabbling beneath me as I am hauled backward.

“Got her,” a voice says.

I claw at the arm as it clamps tighter—chokehold. A vision of Matsin in the carriage flashes before my eyes, his gaze steady as he talks me through this. I reach up, following the line of my attacker’s arm to his hand, grasp his finger, and yank.

I feel bone crack and my attacker swallows a cry, shoving me away from him. I land on all fours, my mouth open as I gulp great lungfuls of air. Vaguely, I can hear someone laughing. I need to get up.

I push myself up and then a hand grabs my arm and twists it behind me. I give a gasping cry, trying to pull away, but my arm is pinned behind me, and then another hand shoves a gag into my mouth. The force of it pushes me against my captor, the muscles of my arm crying out in a protest I can’t voice.

I cast about wildly—and catch sight of the page. He watches me, perfectly balanced on his feet, a line between his brows as if he were slightly perturbed. He makes no move to call for help, no move to do anything at all.

My captor turns and propels me into the empty room we passed only a moment ago. The second man follows after us, shutting the door behind him.

Chapter

55

The guards—for guards they are—leave me gagged and bound on the floor of the storeroom and depart without a backward glance. The door closes on the sound of the second guard mocking the first for his broken finger.

I lie in the dark, my cheek pressed against a fine layer of grit, the tiles cold against my skin. My arms are tied behind me, my ankles bound together. They did not bother searching me, and so did not discover my calf sheath with my bone knife, but no matter how I try, I cannot reach my fingers around to where it is hidden beneath my skirts.

I swallow, my breath coming hard through my nose. I cannot seem to breathe properly, for all that it is only my mouth that is blocked. Is this what happened to Kirrana? Was she left bound and gagged and forgotten? Do they intend to come back for me, or will they leave me here, unable to cry for help in a room no one may enter for weeks?

No. I squeeze my eyes shut, force them open again. I’m going to escape. My family will hear this story from my lips, no one else’s. I won’t be a sad disappearance, an inescapable casualty.

I twist, trying again to reach my calf, my fingers barely managing to catch on the fabric of my skirts.

A door opens in the wall. I start, staring, for there was no door there before, was there? A golden glow falls through the new doorway, and then a figure steps out, luminae lamp in hand.

I tense, every instinct screaming at me to run, but I’ve never been able to do that before, and even less so now, bound as I am. So instead I lift my chin and look straight at Garrin.

“A shame, kelari,” he says softly, and strangely, he looks far more regretful than the page who tricked me here. “Every chance you had to save yourself, you kept putting yourself forward. Why would you do that? Have you no sense of self-preservation?”

Is he actually blaming me? Him? This despicable excuse for a noble who sells children into slavery?

He sighs. “I am going to cut your legs free. I suggest you come quietly. If you do not, I will have to bind you again, and bring others to carry you. I would prefer not to take such drastic measures.”

He doesn’t mean to kill me. The thought sends a flash of relief through me even as I realize I should have known that. If he wished me dead, the guards could have done that easily enough. There was no need for him to come here himself.

He kneels beside me, head tilted as he studies me. I glare up at him, the gag filling my mouth.

He winces. “I’m not a murderer, kelari. I’ll see you out of this alive and well, if you will only comply. I simply can’t have you here anymore.”

He sounds so reasonable, so very civilized.