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

Alyrra nods, her face pale and her eyes bright with anger. “Well done, Amraeya. I’ll look forward to hearing more from you. I am working with Kestrin to recruit the men I need for my own quads, but I suspect for something like this, a royal quad assigned as my bodyguards will not do. I’ll speak to Kestrin about how it should be set up, though the actual work will have to wait until after the wedding.” She pauses. “That goes for the laws as well. If word gets out that I am looking to change laws before I am even properly wed, that could make things difficult—regardless of my intentions.”

“It’s only a week,” I point out. “And by then, I may have more information for you.”

Alyrra smiles. “I look forward to it.” She glances over to her wedding clothes, sighs. “I should like a few minutes of quiet before getting ready for the ceremony.”

“Of course, zayyida.”

I rise and dip a curtsy, my foot aching, and slip away to wait in the outer sitting room. I settle on the sofa, carefully wiggling my feet loose in their slippers. I don’t want them off in case anyone enters, but I’ll take a moment’s respite.

I look up as the hall door swings open and find myself staring at the foreign prince. I blink, as if clearing my eyesight might take him away again. But no, he strides into the room, his teeth bared in a dangerous smile.

“Where is my sister?” he demands as I rise from my seat on the sofa, smashing my feet back into my slippers.

“Zayyida Alyrra is resting—”

“Good. Stay here.” He pivots, making for the door.

“She doesn’t wish to be disturbed,” I say, my voice sharp. He can’t go in there—not alone, not unannounced, and not with that look on his face.

He ignores me, stepping through the door and shutting it behind him. I break into a shambling run, remembering Kestrin’s reminder not to let myself be dismissed. I wish, suddenly and desperately, that another attendant were here. Even Jasmine I would be grateful for. But the entrance to the attendants’ suite is off the main hall as well, and it’s only me here.

I push the connecting door open, but the inner sitting room lies empty.

“Zayyida,” I gasp out as I hurry across to the wide-open door of the princess’s bedchamber. Oh, why can’t I run faster?

As I near, I hear the foreign prince spit a word that I don’t need translated to guess the meaning of. The princess makes a small sound. She’s afraid. I push myself forward till I gain the door to her room. Brother and sister face each other, Alyrra beside the bed, the foreign prince a couple of paces before her.

As I watch, he asks her something. She straightens her shoulders as she answers, looking more the princess—and he lunges for her.

She throws herself to the side, but she’s not quite fast enough. His hand closes on her elbow, dragging her back viciously.

I cry out, fury and fear making my voice a sharp thing. How dare he attack her?

They freeze. Then, slowly, the prince turns to look at me, his pale eyes glistening with malice. I raise my chin, glaring at him. “Zayyida,” I say, forcing my voice to come out clear and strong. “Can I be of service to you?”

“Amraeya,” Alyrra says, her voice not quite steady. “Be so kind as to call—”

“Get out.” Her brother drops her arm and starts toward me, striding across the room. “Now.”

Alyrra takes the opportunity to slip around the side of the bed, heading toward the blue bell pull there.

“I cannot,” I tell the prince, playing for time. “It is our duty to always be present with the princess. Zayyid.” I tack the last word on as an intentional afterthought.

His expression, already ugly, grows meaner still.

“Perhaps,” I say as he comes to a stop before me, his chest as broad as a wall, “you would prefer to have this conversation in the sitting room. Then I might sit out of the way and not be a hindrance to you.”

“Your servants require schooling,” the prince says to his sister. Alyrra has gained the other side of the room, her hand reaching for the bell pull. He starts to turn toward her.

“Incorrect,” I snap, fear making me reckless. He can’t see what she’s doing—not if he’s really capable of attacking her. “It is you who have no manners, but that is hardly a surprise.”

“You little piece—”

“We have heard,” I interrupt, stepping farther into the room so that he has to turn to follow me, his back still toward Alyrra as she tugs on the bell pull. “We have heard,” I repeat, “that your people have little consideration for your women. Or perhaps it is just you. However, in Menaiya, a man cannot corner a woman in her bedroom, even if she is his sister. Or do you have so little honor that you are lost even to that?”

He lunges forward. I try to twist away, but I’m too slow—his fingers close on the front of my tunic and he shoves me back, slamming my shoulders into the wall.

“Brother, let her go,” Alyrra cries. But her quad isn’t here yet—even they cannot move that quickly—and the prince’s face is twisted with fury.

I feel an answering rage in my breast. “Attacking a cripple?” I taunt him, my voice coming out with a slight wheeze. “Do you think that will impress the court?”

His lips lift in a snarl, and then his hand slams into my cheek in an openhanded slap. My face snaps to the side, and my other cheek hits the wall. Pain blinds me. I stumble as I try to clear my vision, sliding slightly, for he no longer holds my tunic.

“Stop!” Alyrra cries. “Stop!”

“Your maid must learn her place, just as you ought. I’ve no compunction in teaching you both,” he says, turning to her.

He’s going after her