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

past, the fact that as a thief he has shut down or driven out every slavery operation he could find in his own territory. I think of the old grief in Kirrana’s eyes as she spoke of her stolen brother, her offer to help however she could.

The snatchers may be ruthless, but I have a wealth of secret allies, people with their own losses who will help me. I pull my feet up onto the sofa, resettle my shawl about my shoulders. They may be street thieves and tax clerks and shopkeepers rather than lords or guards, but that doesn’t make them any less important. All I need to remember is that they are there; that I need only find them to be able to move forward.

The snatchers have been stealing people for about thirty years now—Mama once said that when she was a child, they never feared such a thing. I’m not going to be able to dismantle their operations in a week, or a month. But I know what I want.

I’ll simply have to be patient in order to get there.

Chapter

24

“Your timing leaves something to be desired,” Mina tells me as we ready ourselves for our first self-defense lesson. “It’s the day of the baths! Could you not have kept such a helpful suggestion until after the wedding was completely finished? I mean . . .” She glances at my cheek with its purpling bruise and says with a hint of guilt, “It is important, but it is also a rather busy week.”

“I know,” I say apologetically, wishing I’d at least managed to sleep a little later.

“Well, there’s no help for it, I suppose. You should have heard Jasmine when she learned we would be training with a quad.” Mina smiles despite herself as she puts on an emerald-and-gold earring.

“Are you sure you want to wear jewelry?”

She grimaces. “Our instructions are to wear our usual clothes and jewelry so that we will know what we can or cannot manage in them.”

“Ah.” Well, I suppose I could put on a couple rings and a necklace. I rub my pinky, missing my grandmother’s ring.

A half hour later, we convene in Alyrra’s rooms. A royal quad escorts us down through the palace to a small courtyard I’ve never seen before. The distant sounds of clattering and the occasional baa tell me we’re near the kitchens.

Zayyid Kestrin waits with Captain Matsin at the center of the courtyard. After the usual courtesies, Matsin has us line up before him. “The first thing to know about defending yourself from an attack is that you are not trying to hurt your opponent,” he explains as we face him. “Your one and only goal is to escape. If your opponent loses their balance and falls, you run. If they are hurt enough to pause for even a moment, you run. If at any point you can run, you do so. Is that understood?”

We all nod, but I’ve already lost. All the women here can run, and with a little practice in their skirts, they’ll have a chance. But me? Not likely.

“Excellent,” Matsin says. “This morning, we will focus on how to punch effectively, and then how to block a blow.”

He pairs each of the attendants with a soldier, Kestrin coming to stand opposite Alyrra. Matsin himself walks over to be my partner. He inspects my fists, critiques my form as I practice how to piston out my fists in what he calls a jab-cross—first one fist, then the other—and then in a softer voice asks, “How well can you run, kelari?”

I glance at him and find myself both amused and strangely pleased that he did think of me. “About as fast as you can jog, I would assume,” I say lightly.

He nods. “Then we focus on your fighting. It is imperative that you learn as quickly as possible.”

“Is that why I have the best teacher?”

“Arguably, the prince is better than I,” Matsin says, and taps my fist. “Straighten your wrist to remain in line with your arm; that will deliver the power of the strike. The impact should be on the first two knuckles of your hand.”

We drill a jab-cross for half the session, then learn two different blocks that merge seamlessly into a punch or shove counterattack. We pair up to try them on each other as our teachers watch. Thankfully, I am matched with Mina, while Jasmine and Zaria break off together and the princess faces Kestrin. Mina seems to have a natural affinity for self-defense, earning a hard-won word of praise from Matsin as he watches us.

“Again tomorrow morning?” Matsin asks Alyrra, and she inclines her head, her face pink with exertion.

My body feels good for the first time in a while—I’ve missed that slightly achy feeling of having engaged in hard work. And, from the look on Alyrra’s face, so has she.

Two hours later, we arrive at the baths. They are a place both familiar and utterly foreign. Set apart from the palace by an open courtyard of sorts, the bathhouse is a large, opulent building, all curved arches and carved pillars and brightly tiled designs. Within, the changing room is filled with bath attendants, a team waiting in preparation for Alyrra, while a smaller group behind them casts their eyes toward us. There is already a wide array of noblewomen here, many of whom I now recognize, and there is much hugging and cheek kissing and laughter among the crowd.

Only the foreign queen stands fully clothed, shifting uncomfortably beside the noblewoman who traveled with her. “Alyrra,” the queen says as we approach her.

“Mother,” Alyrra says brightly. “I’m so glad you’ve joined us.”

“Am I supposed to undress in front of everyone?” Her voice, while low, cuts through the conversations around us.

“This is a tradition I’d like to honor,” Alyrra says with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “It is certainly different from our own traditions, but I am hopeful it will be quite enjoyable.” She turns to us, effectively cutting