Chapter 12: Too Far

The stranger lifted his cup.

"To the wedding," he said.

"To the wedding," said Sadeq.

I went backward out of the side branch on my elbows, so fast I skinned them both.

Up the long climb. Right where the clay went warm.

I could hear him before I reached the grate.

A dragging breath. A gasp. Silk tearing in a fist.

The grate behind the screen had rusted into its frame.

I put my back against the pipe and kicked it with both bare heels.

It fell into the room with a clang that should have brought every guard in the palace.

The door was very thick.

I crawled out onto the carpet behind the screen.

The lamp by the bed was burning tall and bright.

The whole room stank of burnt honey.

Tamir was half off the cushions with his hand clawed in his robe over his heart, his mouth open, dragging at the air.

I pinched the lamp out with my fingers and didn't feel it burn.

I threw the balcony doors wide.

Cold night air poured in off the oasis.

Then I knelt in front of him and took his face in both my sooty hands.

"Breathe," I said. "Breathe out first. All of it. Then in."

His eyes found me.

"Nazira."

"Out," I said.

He breathed out.

"In. Slow. That's the oasis, smell it. Wet palms. Mud. Somebody's goats."

He breathed in.

Again. Again.

His hand let go of his robe and came up and closed around my wrist.

"You're filthy," he whispered.

"I came through your great-grandfather's pipes. Again. Sit up."

I got him sitting with his back against the cushions.

His heart raced under my palm, then slowed.

"It's Sadeq," I said.

He went still.

I told him all of it.

The burnt honey on the blue sleeve. The study under the pipe.

The man in oiled leather with a gold cuff.

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