“The Empress doesn’t want to cross the River to help humans, Sophie. And certainly not Astolans,” I said flatly. Some part of me wanted to make her see, make her understand what was really happening. But she stared at me with that same patronizing smile, as if I were a child and she a mother waiting patiently for me to tell her a story.
“If the Empress was trying to help us, there’d be fewer whippings in the public square, she’d care about the mass famines, and she wouldn’t punish us for owning Astolan jewelry and fae relics.”
Sophie attempted to speak but was cut short by another crash under our feet, as the vault finally caved in on itself.
I didn’t have much time.
Excavators poured out of the entrance, unfortunately including the Winthrop, who still held the phoenix statue in his hand.
I whirled away from Sophie, but she held my wrist in a biting grip. “You can’t leave now Yaseema. They’ve seen you. You need to be arrested and stand trial.”
I gaped at her. “For what?”
She couldn’t have any idea I had Queen Azari’s haath phool hidden safely on my person, the bracelet and connected rings sitting heavy against my skin.
“You trespassed. It was their discovery,” she said mulishly.
“There was nothing to discover!” I shouted at her. But I’d finally run out of time. The ground shook, pieces of rock falling into the vault, the dirt collapsing beneath our feet. It was as if the earth were swallowing itself.
I twisted out of Sophie’s grip, stamped hard on her foot, and she released me with a yelp.
But even as I ran through the forest, and away from the Citadel soldiers, I knew they would find me. Sophie knew I had been there—Winthrop knew I had been there. And when they discovered the haath phool was missing, they would come.
I eyed the forest in the distance, where I knew a wide emerald river split our land in two and no one except my mother had been able to cross it for hundreds of years.
Until now.
Chapter 9
Dear Amma,
I wish you were here to tell me what to do. I wish I had gone with you across the River.
—Letter from Yaseema Nazir to Mahira Nazir, unsent
Yaseema
I raced back home, Queen Azari’s bracelet feeling heavier with every step, and each press of my satchel like an anvil against my back. My shoulder throbbed, and I needed something to dull the pain, but didn’t have time. Once Winthrop and Sophie discovered Queen Azari’s haath phool was missing, they would come for me.
But they wouldn’t find what they were looking for.
Determination powered my steps, helped me ignore my burning muscles that had sat too long behind desks and books, researching and discovering secrets for others to pursue. But thoughts of Safiyya and my grandmother gave me speed I wouldn’t otherwise have access to.
Because I knew the Citadel would come for them too.
I burst through the door of our cottage, my breath trapped in my chest like a hive of bees clamoring to escape.
“Yaseema? What is it?” Nani was hunched over whatever was simmering on the stove, the fragrance perfuming the air with cumin and chili. Safiyya was huddled in a blanket on the threadbare divan, drinking a nearly translucent cup of chai.
At my entrance Safiyya looked up. “Yas, where have you been, and why do you look like garbage?” Her voice was still ragged with illness, but she sounded much better than she had last night, and her eyes were brighter and more focused.
“You have to go, both of you,” I huffed out, my wording coming out stilted. “Can you head to Sidrah Aunty? The Citadel won’t find you there for a long while.”
“What have you done, Yas?” My cousin’s black eyes found mine, her mouth pinched. “Did you drop a book at the archives?” Her tone was mocking, still thinking I was a good scholar who did nothing to anger the Citadel.
She would find out the depths of my treason soon enough.
I narrowed my eyes at her, placing my hands on my hips. “No, I stole something from them.” I put my hand in the waistband of my skirt, finding the hole I’d cut earlier and pulled out the golden bracelet and hand chain once owned by an ancient fae queen.
