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

it down, to let go of the resentment within me. Why must I always be made aware of how others see me? I don’t want to keep carrying this sense of being judged and found lacking. I don’t want to be made to feel less just because my foot is turned one way instead of another. It still bears me forward every day of my life.

“Time to wash off,” my attendant chirps.

I sit up and follow her to a rinsing station: a bench before a tap that offers a stream of hot water. Alyrra has already moved back to the room with its soaking pool. I rub away my clay mask and continue after her, pretending that somehow, before I leave the baths, I will be able to wash away the things I no longer wish to carry.

It is a nice dream.

Chapter

25

It is nearly evening when we finish at the bathhouse. After the final rinse in the pool, there were refreshments, mint tea, biscuits, and pastries. No one dared depart until the princess did.

Dinner tonight will be a private affair, and Alyrra has given both Jasmine and me the rest of the day off. We share a quiet meal in the common room before retiring to our respective bedrooms. I’m delighted to find a letter waiting on my desk: the first from home that I’ve received. I devour the cheerful missive from Mama, with interjections from my father duly noted, and little messages added at the bottom from my sisters.

I smile as I read. Bean is ever so glad I’ve left, as she is going to Spring Fair for the first time, departing in a few days, though a glance at the date on the letter tells me they must have left by now. The fair itself will be preceded by a celebration for the royal wedding on the day of the wedding processional. So she will have that pleasure as well, even if she did not make it to the king’s city.

Mama and Niya are looking forward to a quiet couple of weeks at home; they have hired extra help for the horses, and Mama mentions the likelihood that they’ll get the spring washing done so that they can put away all the heavy blankets and winter cloaks. Ani, my mother says, is doing as well as can be expected. Niya and Bean have made a point to visit her twice, and her other friends in town have also been keeping her company. Mama has encouraged her to write to me, so perhaps I will hear from her soon.

I begin a response at once. I have only just finished that and begun a letter to Ani when a knock comes at my door.

I open it to find a page. He glances once toward the empty common room, black hair flopping over his forehead, and whispers, “A friend of a friend wishes to see you at once.”

“A—what?”

The boy flicks me a sharp look. “You know.”

I don’t.

He checks the common room once more, and mutters, “Red Hawk.”

Oh. “Himself? Or—?”

“His men,” the boy says, clearly peeved with my country stupidity. “You know the Tattered Crow?”

I nod. It’s where Sage and I met Bren for the first time. Though how I’ll find my way there alone, I can’t say. However, I’m not about to admit that as well.

The page bows. “At once, kelari. If you can.”

He departs, leaving me wondering just how accomplished Red Hawk is, that he has servants in the palace who carry his messages. Or Bren’s messages, as the case may be.

Never mind. I need to go; it’s already dark, and I do not want to be out on the streets alone late at night. Sheltershorn is safe enough, but I suspect the city is different. Perhaps I can hire someone to guide me; after all, the Tattered Crow is an established business and not itself a secret location.

I change quickly, slipping into a comfortable tunic and skirt set from home, and wrapping Niya’s story sash about my waist. Coins and my knife, I remind myself. And whatever protections her magic might offer, though I have no intention of being cursed tonight. I take along a few spare coins in my pocket, in case I’m able to hire a guide.

Down the back stairs, I head toward the side exit of the palace so any nobles won’t take note of my departure as they might in the main halls. As I turn down a quiet hall, though, I find that not all the nobles are congregated at dinner, for there, walking together, are Genno Stonemane and the Fae mage, Adept Midael. They are both dressed elegantly, their fashion more Fae than Menaiyan today, with long flowing robes trimmed in braid.

Stonemane catches sight of me at once, his brows rising, and then he turns and says something to his companion. Midael flashes me a single curious glance, dips his head, and departs in the other direction.

I admit to being curious myself. I continue down the hall, aware of my uneven gait as Stonemane glides toward me, his robes rippling around him.

“Kelari Amraeya,” he says, dipping a bow.

“Verin,” I say, making my own curtsy. “You are well tonight?”

“I am.” He pauses, and I can feel his gaze resting on my cheek. I keep my eyes firmly on his chest, which is much less unnerving than the otherworldliness of his eyes. “I was glad to see you at the ceremony and dinner.”

Ah. He’s checking on me, as he hadn’t been able to before the whole of the court. It’s sweet in a wholly unexpected way. “Thank you,” I tell him.

He nods, his gaze flicking over me and then—pausing. “Your sash is . . . intriguing.”

Light and shadow! “Do you think so?” I say as lightly as I can. I was hoping Niya’s work was subtler than that.

He lifts his hand, tapping his opposite arm once. For a heartbeat, the sounds around me dim, the distant murmur of the world falling away, and then