The Sultan and the Storyteller by Lichelle Slater
Twenty-Two
Khorshid stepped to the side, allowing the monster to run past.
Zayne gasped and tried to dodge the shaytan, but it moved quicker than its size should have allowed and it grasped him by the throat.
You must do as you’re commanded until your bond is broken.
My mind raced.
I might have been without magic, but that didn’t make me powerless.
If I were writing this story, what would I have said would be the binding element? What item could Khorshid have used to bind the demon to his will? The staff itself? The chances of me getting that out of Khorshid’s hands were slim to none.
And then my eyes settled on the charm around my father’s neck. Somehow, I recognized it instantly. It had been scrawled in the corner of the papers I’d found in my father’s study, the ones detailing this wretched plan. I just needed to get that from him.
Ignoring Zayne desperately trying to stay out of reach of the demon’s claws, I let out a loud groan and rolled my eyes up in my head, then allowed myself to go limp. I wished I had words more than anything in that moment, at least to give Jade an idea of my plan so that perhaps she could help me do something from her frozen position on the floor.
“Let her down,” I heard Khorshid say.
The ifrits holding me set me on the floor. I heard the shuffling of robes but couldn’t identify just how close Khorshid had come. I peeked one eye open and saw his boots. He nudged me with one of them and I let out an involuntary hiss as pain seared through my shoulder.
“She’s still alive.” He sounded almost disappointed.
I opened my eyes and got up on my knees. I had two choices—move quickly and startle my father into attacking me, or pretend to be defeated and hope to get close enough to grab the pendant from his neck.
Drawing a slow breath, I looked up at my father, but he wasn’t even looking at me. After all, I didn’t exactly pose a threat now. I chose the second option and willed myself to my feet. Khorshid threw me a sideways glance but was more captivated by Zayne shouting at the shaytan to “fight the real enemy” while trying in vain to dodge the creature’s attacks. The guards and the sorceresses watched with mute expressions.
Zayne jumped the wrong way.
The ifrit’s claws tore across his back, making him scream in agony as they shredded his flesh and threw him to the ground. Grimacing through tears, Zayne struggled back up to his hands and knees.
I bit my bottom lip to refrain from shouting out or running to him. Mustering my strength, I reached out and snatched the pendant, ripping it from my father’s neck. “I break your bond to this pendant and set you free!”
“Shahira!” Father struck my wounded arm with the staff.
I cried out in agony as the white-hot pain shot through my arm so violently I dropped the pendant. But it didn’t hit the ground. It dissipated into smoke.
Khorshid struck me again and again, making me fall to my knees, and my entire arm went numb. “You useless brat! I should have killed you and Kiara after I took your mother! I should have ended your life a week ago!”
I couldn’t feel anything but the agony coursing up and down my arm and radiating into my shoulder and neck, and I couldn’t see anything but foggy shapes through tears.
And then he stopped hitting me.
I let out a weak sob and looked up. To my horror and astonishment, the shaytan stood in the center of the throne room with its claws around my father’s neck, holding him off the ground. Khorshid had dropped his staff and was desperately trying to use his magic to banish the shaytan back to the underworld.
I spotted Zayne on his hands and knees behind them both. He snatched the fallen staff and pulled it out of Khorshid’s reach. He shouted and slammed the carved serpent’s head against the mosaic floor.
“Zayne, no! I can fix this! Give me a chance!” Khorshid pleaded.
Zayne smashed it again.
“I can right this wrong!”
Zayne used the staff to get to his feet, and then struck it against the floor with all his strength. The face of the serpent shattered and a plume of red and black smoke exploded from it. A wave of magic coursed through the room, banishing the ifrits to the shadows. Red magic swirled around the staff, pulling the darkness toward it.
Khorshid regained his feet from where the ifrit had dropped him and desperately ran to Zayne. “Please! Not now. Not when I’ve finally accomplished my life’s dream!”
Zayne met his gaze, gritted his teeth, and hit the staff one final time.
My father dematerialized, sliding into a smoke-like form. The ruby stone now sitting at Zayne’s feet dragged Khorshid toward it.
“I will never forget this!” And with that, Khorshid, the vizier to the sultan, disappeared.
Zayne dropped to his knees, gasping for each breath. He looked at me, his hair falling into his face, and he started crawling. “Shahira . . . are you all right?”
“I will be.” I whimpered when I sat back up and whiteness punctured my vision.
Somewhere, I heard Jade calling my name. At one point, someone brushed my hair from my forehead. I opened my eyes and saw the lanterns hanging from the ceiling in the hallway and for the first time noticed the ceilings were painted to look like a sunny sky.
It was daylight when I finally awoke, but I couldn’t say if it had been one day or more. I looked over to see Zayne lying on his stomach beside me, his back covered in bandages stained with dried blood. But his sides moved in and out with each breath.
He was alive.
The door’s hinges groaned and I looked over to see Kiara sneaking in. She spotted me and grinned widely, then ran as silently as possible to my side and dropped to her knees.
“My tea said you would wake today,” she whispered. “How are you feeling?”
My arm throbbed dully, but I shook my head. “How is Zayne?”
Kiara’s gaze drifted to my husband. “The healers say he will recover, but it may be several days before he is well enough to get out of bed. Shahira, you too. What are you doing?”
I sat up slowly, ignoring the pain radiating up and down my arm and ribs.
“Father broke your arm when he b-beat you,” Kiara stammered. “You need rest.”
My jaw flexed and I looked at her. “Where is the red stone?”
Kiara shook her head and rose up on her knees. “I don’t know. I didn’t hear about it. Shahira, stay in bed!”
But I got to my feet, unsteady as they were, and held my broken arm to my chest as I crossed to the door. Someone had helped get me into my nightgown and braided my hair.
Kiara beat me to the door, mumbling something about me being stubborn, and opened it for me. A palace guards stood outside.
He straightened immediately. “Your Majesty.”
“Where is Captain Nadeem?” I demanded.
“I—I shall fetch him.” He eyed me, then quickly looked away with a blush when he noticed my nightgown before he hurried away.
Even though my legs weren’t injured, the pain from my arm was intense standing up. Kiara guided me back to my bed.
I’d barely managed to sit down again when Captain Nadeem entered.
He paused a moment to catch his breath and wipe his brow. “You sent . . . for me?”
“The ruby stone from the throne room,” I started.
He nodded. “I collected it personally and locked it in a box.” He lifted a key from where he’d hidden it under his shirt.
“Bring it to me. I want to hide it where no one will ever find it,” I said as firmly as I could muster.
Captain Nadeem bowed. “I understand. I shall bring it immediately. Until then, rest, your Majesty.” He turned and left.
I nodded and closed my eyes, then lay down to rest my head on the pillows behind me. “Do the healers have anything for the pain?” I asked Kiara softly.
“Certainly. I’ll fetch it and return.”