Her words reminded me of something, and I strode over to her, lifting my cloak from the chair.
“This might have something to do with the weight.”
I pulled a book from the pocket of my cloak, one of the thicker ones she’d been reading at the bazaar,A Compendium of Magic in the Seven Courts of Peristan.
“What is this?”
“I swiped it from the bookseller in the bazaar, when he decided to lie about not knowing where you went.” I shrugged. “I figured you might want to keep reading it.”
Her mouth dropped open, and she took the book with tentative hands. “Thank you. That’s....” She looked up at me with big, dark eyes, and I found myself arrested by them. “No one’s ever given me a book before,” she whispered.
I nodded at her, not knowing what to say. It looked suspiciously like gratitude in her eyes, and I was the last person anyone should be grateful for.
I was the one using her to get what I wanted, and giving her nothing but a book in return.
She placed the book on the small table next to the fire and began rummaging in her bag. I turned around as I realized she was getting ready for bed and busied myself with removing my boots and weapons.
“I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“The bed is huge, and I don’t mind.”
She slipped under the covers and turned her back to me.
It seemed innocuous to lie down beside her, but my heart pounded as if there was an imminent threat at any moment. I was being a fool. But if I slept on the floor now, it would seem as if I were admitting to a problem. She certainly didn’t feel uncomfortable about sharing a bed with me.
I exhaled slowly and slid under the covers beside her, staying fully clothed.
It was the first time I’d ever slept beside another person without a knife under my pillow, and my body felt like it was a vine unfurling into sunlight for the first time.
I held my breath until I heard the steady sounds of sleep overtaking her.
Then I lay on my back, staring at the wooden beams of the caravanserai ceiling, wondering when the lines started blurring between us and how much I could do to stop them.
And if I even wanted to.
Chapter 34
Dear Amma,
I stepped over a dead body today, on the way to the Citadel. I was still shaking by the time I made it to the archives and was caned for dropping a collection of scrolls on the floor. I can’t carry on like this.
I can’t not do anything. I have to stop our people from dying, otherwise there will be no one left.
—Letter from Yaseema Nazir to Mahira Nazir, recorded in Mahira Nazir’s journal
Yaseema
I woke to thick arms wrapped around my torso, and my head buried in Kiyan’s chest. For a second I tried to adjust to my surroundings, attempting to piece together where I was.
I was in the middle of the bed in the Tashuna caravanserai, Kiyan’s leg swung over my hip and my own under it. My arm was around his waist and my cheek flush against his chest, directly atop his heart. The slow, steady beat of it thrummed in my ears, and despite the intimate position, I didn’t feel uncomfortable.
That was the part that scared me.
The smell of spring was all around me, and I was conscious of every place our bodies touched.
He shifted, his hand dropped from my hip to my bottom, and I inhaled sharply as he drew me closer.
He mumbled something incoherently and pulled me against him, so that my head was tucked underneath his chin and our hips snapped together. I didn’t even want to breathe or extricate myself from his arms and risk waking him up.
