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

Melly laughs as she turns to Filadon. “See, my love? It’s perfectly normal to feel like this. You worry too much.”

“Yes, but if you had felt weak out there—”

“Which I haven’t yet, not once,” Melly says bluntly. “And if I had, then Rae would have gotten me help.”

I’m not sure how, but I certainly would have.

“Ah, there’s the foreign prince,” Melly says in a complete change of topic.

I turn my gaze to watch as he descends from the dais, having given his own words of congratulations. Today, he wears several thick golden chains over a close-fitting velvet jacket, cream sleeves puffing out from the shoulders, and his legs encased in the usual shockingly tight fabric that passes as pants among his people. Does he think he must prove his royalty by flaunting his gold? It seems in poor taste, especially in comparison to the much more muted display of wealth by our king and prince.

“Do you think we’re free of trouble from him now?” Melly asks as he moves across the room, coming to a stop beside a red-haired man. Daerilin, the impostor’s father.

Filadon sighs. “I’d like to think so, but I don’t trust him. And that Daerilin has been keeping far too low a profile.”

“What could they do?” I ask, looking from the two men to Filadon. His brow is lined with concern. Isn’t it a good thing if Daerilin has stepped back?

“I don’t know. That’s the trouble.”

From what I’ve seen of the prince, anything he planned would be personal and violent. I look up to where a noblewoman bends over to embrace Alyrra.

“There are still soldiers posted throughout the royal wing, right?” I ask.

Filadon pats my arm. “There are. They won’t reach her alone, Rae. It will be all right.”

If he believed that, he wouldn’t have looked so worried. And the prince didn’t reach her alone last time either; not really.

“You see,” Melly says lightly, “there’s more than enough to concern us without bringing in how much ginger I’ve eaten today.”

“We are eating ginger for every meal,” Filadon says solemnly. “Starting with breakfast.”

“I’m the one in charge of the menu, so you had better ask nicely,” Melly says with a grin, and tugs me another step forward in the line. “Although I suppose a little ginger might be called for.”

“A little,” Filadon echoes, shaking his head. “I shall have it grated into your oatmeal if you don’t watch out.”

Melly just laughs.

Chapter

40

I wake up late the next morning, having stayed at the banquet until the princess was ready to retire. Along with a few chosen elder noblewomen, including the foreign queen, we escorted Alyrra to her new rooms at the end of the evening. The suite, located right across the hall from her old one, is not all that different but for the bedchamber—a shared room between Kestrin’s suite and Alyrra’s new one. It was enough to bring another blush to Alyrra’s face.

I smile at the memory as I slowly work through a few morning stretches, grateful that I didn’t wake with foot cramps. I do have a new crop of blisters, though. It’s almost enough to make a girl give up attending once and for all. I shake my head at myself and change quietly, slipping out the door a few minutes later in search of breakfast.

Like Mina, it seems the other attendants are all still abed. I make a small pot of mint tea and sit down with a plate of cheese and bread, a few black olives on the side. There, on the table, are three letters that must have been delivered this morning. The top two are for Jasmine and Zaria respectively; the third is for me.

I open it up with some curiosity, as I don’t recognize the hand that addressed it, and scan the note.

Dear Rae,

I have been thinking about our conversation, and have done some more reading, and have thoughts and possibilities to discuss. If you are free at all today, come meet me where we last saw each other. I have today off as well and we can chat easily.

Your friend,

Kirrana

I brighten up at once. It doesn’t take me long to get ready to go—a quick, careful bandaging of my foot to protect the blisters, an outfit from home that won’t stand out on that side of the palace complex, my hair braided down my back, and I’m on my way.

I knock at the closed door of the administrative archive. Sure enough, Kirrana’s voice calls through to me, and a moment later I’m ushered in.

Kirrana is as cheerful as ever, though her eye is faintly shadowed, as is the skin beneath her left eye patch.

“Tell me you haven’t been here all night,” I demand.

She laughs. “Not at all. I was at the tax office last night, and came back here again this morning. There’s no need to stare! I love challenges and riddles, and this is both. And . . . well, you know why I care. I’m surprised you made it here at all this morning, though.”

“The princess will spend the day with her husband and his family,” I explain. “She won’t need us till dinner.”

“That’s good. I have to say, I was relieved to know your family is staying in the palace, after the news this morning.”

“What news?” I follow Kirrana over to her worktable. It’s covered with stacks of ledgers and log books.

“It hasn’t spread yet to the royal wing, then? The king must have heard, at least.”

“Heard what?”

Kirrana laughs. “Yesterday evening during the wedding procession at least a half dozen noble households on the north side were all robbed. Probably more.”

I stop short, recalling Bren joking about his plans for the wedding the first time we met—his words had been perfectly honest. My hand creeps to the pendant hidden beneath my tunic. I accepted it as a protection, but in anyone else’s eyes it will mean I’ve aligned myself with Red Hawk, that I support his actions, accept them. Maybe I do,