The Sultan and the Storyteller by Lichelle Slater

Fourteen

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about,” I said as soon as Zayne and I were alone that night.

“What’s that?” Zayne asked from the bedroom. He sounded tired. He’d been busy all day, even during lunch and dinner, and had refused my request for an audience. If my father suspected that I knew something, he was trying to keep us apart.

I turned and saw him still fully dressed, but rubbing his feet while he sat on the pillows beneath the window. “Remember when we spoke with Telama and she called you Zainullah?”

He lifted his gaze with a slight scowl to his lips. “Yes, but I don’t use it anymore.”

I drew a deep breath. “When we were kids, I called you Ulley.”

Zayne’s face relaxed and he looked me up and down as if seeing me for the first time. “By the gods . . . but—but that’s impossible. You can’t be . . .” He straightened and rushed to stand in front of me. Light shone in his eyes and he picked me up and spun me around with my feet off the ground. “I knew you were familiar!”

I laughed and he set me back on my feet.

“There was a little girl I used to play with all the time,” he explained. “My father strictly forbade it, but . . .”

I smiled up at him. “But that never stopped us from getting in trouble.”

He shook his head and looked me up and down for the millionth time. “Shahira. How could I not remember your name? When you disappeared, when we were children, I never thought I would see you again. Father said your family chose a different path for you.”

“I don’t even know why we lived in the palace in the first place. I think it’s very possible my father has manipulated your memories and mine, making us forget for reasons we may never know.”

Zayne blinked at me. “Shahira, you don’t understand how important you are. A sultan is supposed to marry someone of royal bloodline—at least, until the shadow and wives and . . .” His voice faded, but he shook his head. “From what I remember, you and I were supposed to be wed when we came of age.”

I laughed. “Me and you? But I’m not of royal blood.”

He licked his lips as he pondered. “I could have sworn . . .” He shook his head. “With my first wife, she told me that no woman would survive at my side until I found the one that was long forgotten. I forget the exact phrasing.” He waved his hand dismissively. “But it must be you.”

I wasn’t sure I believed I was a long-lost destined lover, but Zayne believed it. Taking his hand, I held it to my cheek. “What would you do if I told you . . . I fear my father may be the reason you’ve killed your brides?”

He ran his tongue over his teeth and glanced at the door. “I want to show you something.” He lowered our hands, but entwined his fingers around mine and led me from our bedroom.

Nodding to servants as we passed them, he stayed silent until we reached the western side of the palace, an area I didn’t remember exploring.

Zayne suddenly stopped, then stepped to the side.

A red, carved wooden door stood at the end of the hall. To the left of the long hallway were half a dozen windows overlooking an unkempt garden. To the right were paintings and a table with a vase full of dead flowers.

I felt my heart quicken.

“This is where your family lived in the palace.” Zayne led me through the door and stepped into the darkness.

As soon as I saw the circular main room with dusty chairs, tables, and trinkets, I saw Kiara in my mind’s eye sitting on the rug by the window, playing with toys. I used to jump on the orange chair in the corner of the room, thinking I could fly. We sat before the fireplace and had tea parties.

This was my childhood home.

Zayne lit a lamp on the nearby table and the memories melted away, revealing the empty room once again. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I had completely forgotten I lived here.” I reached out and traced the frame of a painted image of my mother.

“I remember you as a little girl quite plainly. We were best friends until your family left shortly after my twelfth birthday. When you called me Ulley, I knew it was you. Do you remember now?”

I crossed to a table and picked up one of the figurines and laughed. “I tried to carve this for my mother. It was supposed to be a griffin, I believe.”

Zayne took it from me. “It’s a block of wood painted gold.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t say I succeeded.”

He chuckled as he handed it back to me, putting his hands in his pockets as he said, “I prefer you when you laugh.”

I blushed and held the statue in my hand. Confusion crossed his face. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and put them back in.

“What is it?” I asked.

“My father’s griffin charm is missing. I’ve kept it in my pocket since you snuck it in. I must have dropped it last night during our . . .” He flushed and winked at me. “Might be under the bed.”

“I put it back in your pocket,” I said. “We can look for it later.”

Zayne shrugged. “Tell me more about your childhood.”

“I have few good memories of my childhood, Zayne,” I confessed. “I’ve blocked out most of them.”

“Why?”

“My father. You say I don’t know him well, but the fact is he was horrible to us as children. He would shout, say the most horrible things, break plates or glasses, and then ask us to sit with him at dinner and talk to us as if nothing happened.”

“Did he ever hit you?”

I met Zayne’s eyes and nodded.

He stepped forward and pulled me close. “How could he do something like that to you? You don’t deserve that, and I can’t believe you did anything as a child to deserve what he did. I will never do such a thing to you. I swear. I want to keep you safe forever.”

I smiled softly.

“There’s one more thing I wanted to show you.” He shifted me toward a door.

Dread immediately filled me and I stepped back.

“That is your father’s study,” he said. “He sleeps elsewhere, but I believe this is where he goes when I have no tasks for him.” Zayne turned to me. “I have suspected for some time that your father’s staff is magical . . .” His brows pinched. “When I am around him, I feel . . . drained. I know you’re a sorceress, Shahira.”

“I told you my mother—”

“You use stories to put me to sleep at night. We met Telama, who gave me my father’s necklace. I know you have magic. And I have nowhere else to go.” His eyes pleaded with me in desperation. He dropped to his knees. “Please help me.”

I looked around the room, at the corners so dark I couldn’t see the walls. “I have seen and felt a dark presence enter our room at night. Last night, it tried to control you.” I looked down at him. “Have you seen it before?”

His brows pinched in thought, but he shook his head. “I cannot recall. Perhaps something in there will answer our question. I will spend all day tomorrow with your father so you can search for whatever his plan is.”

I crouched and wrapped my arms around him. “We can do this together.”

Zayne lingered a moment before climbing to his feet. “I want to apologize for pushing you away.”

I placed my hand on his cheek. “I can’t blame you, all things considered. Thank you for believing in me.”

Zayne looked over at the door. “If your father caused all of this, could his personality leak into me?”

“I don’t know, but it’s possible.” I pulled him away. “Come back to our room with me. You can play your tar and I’ll tell you another story.”

Zayne followed me back.

That night, the story was simple—there was a magical barrier around the room protecting us both and the shadow couldn’t enter. But that didn’t prevent Zayne from having to fulfill his duties the next day and leaving me alone.