Gifting Fire by Alina Boyden (read my book .TXT) 📕

hand a pat. “No, Ali was like Arjun. He never would have abandoned me—not for anything. He packed up his things, and helped me pack mine, and we took our zahhaks, and we rode off into the night sky together.”

“He went with you?” I gasped, tears threatening at the corners of my eyes, because I’d wished more than anything in the whole world not to be alone that fateful night when I’d fled the palace of Nizam. God, how I’d wanted someone to come with me, but there had been no one in all the world I’d trusted—no one except for Haider and Tamara. What would it have been like if I’d had a big brother to protect me like Hina had? I couldn’t even imagine it. I doubted I’d have ended up in Bikampur, serving Varsha and learning to be a thief and a courtesan. And that meant I wouldn’t have my sisters or Arjun. That thought quelled whatever jealousy I’d been feeling. It was all right to dream about a past without pain, but I couldn’t regret any part of my life when it would mean losing the people I loved most fiercely.

“He did,” Hina whispered, and tears did spill down her cheeks, reminding me that he was dead, and that Ahmed and Karim were responsible for it. “He supported me while I got my nirvan, and then we sold our services as scouts. He told everyone I was his sister, and no one batted an eye at a young noble girl with her own river zahhak, as it’s not at all uncommon here in Zindh. He recruited men, and when we had enough money, I started recruiting young hijras, training them to serve as my retainers, eventually becoming an unconventional guru, and then a nayak. If not for Ali, I don’t know what I would have done. Someone would probably have stolen Sakina from me—I wasn’t strong enough or tough enough to fend off an attacker, and while she’s big and strong, she hasn’t got any breath. And without Sakina, I’d have become a penniless orphan. I’d probably have had to join a dera and sell myself to men like a common . . .”

She trailed off, her cheeks burning as she noticed the way I was staring at the floor, because I hadn’t had a brother to save me from that fate. “Forgive me, Razia, I didn’t mean . . .”

“It’s all right,” I said, my voice tight with emotion. “I’m glad you didn’t have to go through that. None of us should have to.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” She looked down at Nuri, who was riding Nalini all around the courtyard, and I turned my eyes to Sakshi and Lakshmi, who were flying lazy circles over the palace on the backs of their brilliantly colored zahhaks. Whatever had happened to us, we weren’t letting it happen to our sisters, that was the main thing.

But then my eyes drifted over to Karim and I remembered that my own suffering was far from over. He was standing in the courtyard, one hand raised to shade his eyes from the sun as he watched Sakshi and Lakshmi flying overhead, the pair of them trailed by four acid zahhaks, just to be certain that they didn’t get any ideas into their heads of fleeing.

“And he killed your brother . . .” I whispered, gritting my teeth at the idea that a man like Karim Shah could continue to draw breath while Ali Talpur was dead and buried. Sometimes I wondered if there even was a God at all, the world was so full of injustice.

“He’s going to pay for that,” Hina promised.

“He is,” I agreed, my vow every bit as fervent as hers.

“But enough of that talk,” Hina said, her tone changing completely as she plastered a smile across her face. I didn’t know what that was about, not until I turned and saw Asma marching across the rooftop toward us, trailed by her handmaidens.

I stood up at once to greet her, bowing my head in proper deference, though all the while I was repeating, “Seven more days,” like a mantra in my mind. That was how long I had left until the full moon, how long I had to put up with this farce before bringing it to a bloody end. But for now, I exclaimed, “Mother-in-law, what a pleasant surprise!”

Asma took my hands in hers, offering me a bright smile. “I’ve brought something for you, dear.”

“Oh?” I asked, hoping that I seemed appropriately eager, though I doubted very much if she had the slightest idea as to what stirred my heart.

“Your husband-to-be has had lovely gifts commissioned for you,” she said. “He tells me that he means them to be a symbol of your engagement, and your commitment to one another. My Karim is so pleased that you seem to have found your place here so quickly.”

In another tone of voice, there might have been unspoken suspicions lurking behind those words, but Asma sounded genuinely pleased with me. I bowed my head to her, and smiled prettily, and lied just as boldly as I dared, “I am grateful that my husband-to-be is pleased with me.”

“You two will make such a lovely pair.” She gave my cheek a fond pat, and then settled herself on the cushion I had formerly occupied in the chhatri. I took Hina’s place, shunting her away, which I thought was probably a blessing, as it meant she didn’t have to deal with her brother’s murderer’s mother directly.

Asma clapped her hands, and one of her handmaidens came forward, laying a beautiful sandalwood box at my feet. When she opened it, she removed a blouse of emerald silk fabric, with darker green embroidery creating a pattern of scales all across its surface. Turquoise beads and tiny circular mirrors formed an eye on each scale like the ones found on a peacock’s tail feathers, just like on a real acid zahhak.

My eyes widened at the sight of such an exquisite garment. Lakshmi was going to be