“Perhaps it did. And don’t say ‘camel piss’ in public. It’s not polite.”

“Rat piss, then. What do you need me for?”

“Oh, nothing. You were starting to fidget, and I figured it would be best to get you out of there before you said something we’d both regret.”

Farid gave her a rare conspiratorial grin, and Karina pulled a face in return. Still, she was grateful that he had been there to aid her as he always did. Though perhaps that would not be the case if Hanane were still around to—

Karina’s migraine thudded again, and she winced, earning a concerned look from Farid. Thoughts of Baba and Hanane always made the headaches worse, but she preferred this to the unthinkable alternative of never letting them cross her mind, as it seemed her mother had decided to do. The migraines had grown worse in the last year; before, she had gotten them once every few months, then once a week, and now she found herself clutching her head in pain at least once a day. The healers were stumped—as far as anyone could tell, Karina was physically fine. The medicines they gave her dulled the pain, as did alcohol, but only somewhat and never long enough.

The tension that had seeped into Karina’s muscles eased somewhat as Farid led her on a tour of the courtyard. She nodded at those who bowed as they passed, but Farid took the time to greet each person in turn, the perfect model of the manners her tutors had worked for years to teach her.

They stopped to talk to the Arkwasian ambassador and his entourage, and the group’s excitement for the coming festivities brought the first genuine smile of the night to Karina’s face. Though many Arkwasians worshipped the patron deities, they did not celebrate Solstasia, so they regarded the festival with an outsider’s boundless curiosity. Karina’s smile quickly faded as she remembered that Arkwasi was another place she would never get to see thanks to the Barrier. Then again, it’s not like anyone else in her family ever had, not even the Kestrel, so could she really complain?

The ambassador tried to get her to stay longer—apparently his young daughter had wandered off and would love to meet her— but Farid insisted they had to keep moving.

“I’m glad everyone seems to be having a good time,” said Farid as they reached the end of their circuit. He glanced down at Karina, a thoughtful look on his face. “This is likely the largest event we’ll host until your wedding.”

Karina gagged. “Until my what?”

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s going to happen sooner rather than later.” Farid nudged her with his elbow. “If there is anyone you’d like to marry, now is the time to bring them forward before your mother chooses someone without your input.”

The moon cut a lonely figure in the sky above, and Karina regarded it with longing. Did the moon look the same in Arkwasi, or from the coast of the Edrafu Sea? Would marrying someone mean she was trapping them within Ziran for the rest of their days as well?

“The only person I’m interested in marrying is the one who can catch me the moon with their bare hands,” she declared, fully aware of how ridiculous it sounded.

Farid frowned at her mocking tone. “I hope for your own sake you find that person soon. It’s always best to have some control over your future, and you could use a well-placed political marriage to your advantage.”

A quip about Farid of all people lecturing her about marriage when he’d turned down so many potential matches lay on the tip of Karina’s tongue, but she held it back. Enough wounds had been poked already today without bringing Farid’s heartbreak into the mix.

They completed their loop of the courtyard and returned to the other end of the Alahari table, where the Kestrel was deep in conversation with several high-ranking bankers. Karina’s mother had changed into a resplendent wine-red takchita with silver floral embroidery curling around the neckline. In addition to her signet ring, she wore a necklace of interwoven jewels that sparkled like tiny stars, silver bangles up her arms that jingled when she moved, and emerald earrings that shined against her braided hair. Though Karina’s outfit for the night was of a similar cut, she knew she did not look nearly as striking.

“I beg you, Your Majesty, let us end the talk of business for tonight!” cried one of the bankers. “Do an old woman a favor and tell us what the Solstasia prize will be. I want to make sure I place the right bets.”

The Kestrel gave a coy smile. “I am afraid you will have to wait until the Opening Ceremony to find out.”

The sultana held only a ceremonial role in the Champions’ Challenge, so that no one could accuse her of favoring one temple over another. However, she did get to decide the prize that the winning Champion received after the Final Challenge. It was always the kind of extravagant gift only a queen could bestow, like a spot on the council or a governorship. The prize was also a closely guarded secret, declared only at the Opening Ceremony and never a moment before.

The courtiers grumbled in disappointment, but the Kestrel quickly had them laughing with her next comment. Every one of her mother’s gestures or well-timed pauses hinted at a power brimming behind all she did, and Karina wondered what went through people’s minds when they saw them together—the sultana and the daughter never meant to rule.

All Karina had to do was take her place at her mother’s side. Sit down and be the heiress they all expected her to be.

All she had to do was fill the space Hanane had been born to hold.

A searing pain split Karina’s head, and she grunted. Several courtiers threw her concerned looks, which Karina returned with her most dazzling smile.

“Excuse me, I must relieve myself,” she said, all but running from the courtyard.

Once in the washroom, Karina removed a window grate she had loosened years ago, and crawled through the opening until she was seated with her back against a wall in a small garden adjacent to the main courtyard. She refused to let the courtiers see her doubled over in pain like this and give them confirmation that she was as weak as everyone suspected her to be.

Pressing her palms against her temples, Karina listened to the music wafting over the hedges. This was another song Baba had loved. Every breath she took was a reminder she was living in a world he and Hanane would never get to see, every step taking her further away from the girl they had known.

She tried to draw their images to mind, but there were only fuzzy blanks where her memories should have been. She remembered certain things about them, like that Hanane’s eyes had been a shade of brown bordering on purple like their mother’s, and that Baba had been the slightly shorter parent. But the exact timbres of their voices, the feeling of their hands in hers, eluded her. The harder Karina tried to cling to her memories, the further they slipped away, little more than grains of sand falling between her outstretched hands. She couldn’t even recall the fire well, just smoke in the air and flames in her face. The pain always got worse the harder she tried to hold on.

Had Hanane died knowing she would never leave Ziran?

“Um, excuse me, Your Highness? Are you all right?”

The source of the voice was a girl who looked no older than twelve dressed in a thick purple, green, and black print cloth that wrapped around her entire body and was cinched in the middle with a cluster of multicolored beads. Gold jewelry shined at her ears and throat. One might have even called the girl impressive had she not been stuck in the middle of a hedge with only the front half of her body visible through the shrubbery.

“Who are you?” demanded Karina. She had greeted every person at the comet viewing, and this child had not been among them.

“Oh, pardon my manners!” The girl gave a small bow, or what passed for a bow when one was stuck in a bush. “My name is Afua, daughter of Kwabena Boateng, Arkwasian ambassador to Ziran. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

So this was the child the Arkwasian ambassador had been looking for. “How did you end up in my plants?”

“I was chasing a cat through the courtyard and thought I could jump over the hedge.” Afua gave a world-weary sigh. “I couldn’t jump over the hedge. I’m sorry to bother you, Your Highness, but could you lend me a hand?”

Karina’s first reaction was to chastise the girl, but then she remembered how much trouble she herself had gotten into on these same grounds. Instead, she grabbed Afua by her wrists and pulled. The girl landed on the ground face-first with a thud, then popped to her feet no worse for the ordeal.

“Thank you!”

Karina began to say something, but Afua frowned and pressed her fingers against Karina’s forehead.