And just like that, she vanished.

Malik stared openmouthed at the space where the griot had stood, terror choking his voice as he pulled Nadia closer to his chest. The siblings huddled together as dark shadows curled from the cracks in the wall, and the same too-vibrant blue light Malik had seen in Nyeni’s eyes pulsed at the edge of the world.

“This way!” screamed Leila, bolting back to the door.

Malik threw himself toward the exit but stopped short, teetering on the edge of the door frame. In front of him stretched nothing but open night sky, and all he could see of the ground far below was a sprawling wasteland as barren as the sands that surrounded Ziran.

This time, there was nowhere to run.

4

Karina

Night had fallen by the time Karina and Aminata returned to Ksar Alahari, and the palace was in complete disarray.

Well, perhaps disarray was not the best word. Even at its most chaotic, Ksar Alahari was nothing less than stately and well organized, run by a methodical system that Karina hadn’t bothered to learn.

But there was a tension in the air, a potent mix of excitement for Solstasia and the growing dread all hosts feel when their guests are due to arrive. As Karina made her way through the twisting halls of the palace, servants ran in every direction, yelling that more pillows were needed in the room of this ambassador or that onions had yet to arrive in that kitchen. Groups of servants scrubbed furiously at intricate zellij tiles lining the walls, and even the mighty black-and-white alabaster arches draped with garlands of blooming oleander seemed to shake with anticipation.

And through it all, Farid still found time to yell at her.

“Of all the stupid, reckless, irresponsible, stupid—”

“You already said ‘stupid.’”

Karina had never seen someone’s face turn purple, but Farid’s was quickly approaching that shade. The palace steward was a man of awkward angles and too-long limbs, so even his anger had a comical air to it. Neatly combed black hair and a long face often drawn tight with worry made Farid look nearly a decade older than his twenty-seven years.

Farid ran his hands down his face as he led Karina down a pathway lined with reflecting pools littered with rose petals. He had to take several deep breaths before he could say, “Great Mother help me, a stampede in River Market of all places.”

“You say that as if I knew the stampede was going to happen, which I assure you I did not.”

“You could have been trampled to death! Or stabbed! What if one of your migraines had hit, and you’d collapsed before the Sentinels found you?” Farid clutched his chest. “Imagine if word got out that the crown princess of Ziran had died mere hours before Solstasia. Oh, this is upsetting my ulcer.”

“You don’t have an ulcer, Farid.”

“I will soon at this rate!”

Farid droned on, but Karina was more concerned with the new scratch lining Baba’s oud due to the filthy boy who had crashed into her. Thankfully that was the only injury the instrument had sustained, but there was no telling how many more cracks the oud could handle before it became impossible to play. Compared to the fear of losing the last gift Baba had ever given her, nothing Farid could do or say scared her.

“And Aminata, you should know better than to go along with such reckless behavior,” scolded Farid. The maid looked down while Karina rolled her eyes. Farid had only been palace steward for five years, yet he took the role far too seriously. In Karina’s eyes, he would forever be the quiet boy who had grown up alongside her and Hanane. Besides, she and Farid both knew he was far too soft-hearted to ever punish her in any meaningful way.

That was the Kestrel’s job.

Karina was grateful when Commander Hamidou went to alert the queen that her daughter had returned. The commander was one of the few Sentinels who were stationed around the sultana regularly, but that did not mean Karina felt comfortable around the woman. She had followed them silently all the way from River Market, and now that she was gone, it felt like a pressure had lifted from the air and that Karina could breathe easier.

The second Aminata ran off to prepare for the comet viewing, Farid began fretting anew.

“Is it me? Am I the problem?” he wondered aloud. “Have you made it your life’s mission to ensure there is never a peaceful moment in my own?”

Her mind wandering as it always did when Farid began lecturing, Karina took in the testaments to a thousand years of Alahari sultanas in the artwork all around them. Every queen had earned her place on these walls, and one day Karina’s descendants would stand there gazing up at her own addition to their family’s history.

An addition Hanane would never get to make, thanks to the fire that had cut her life short. The ever-present ache in the back of Karina’s head thudded once more, and she winced.

“Are you listening to me?” chided Farid.

Karina fought the urge to rub her temple. Moon-aligned people were supposed to be calm and composed, but Farid was often anything but when it came to her. “Not at all.”

Chief among the roles of the palace steward was overseeing the day-to-day life of the heiress to the throne. Over the last five years, Karina and Farid had fallen into a comfortable rhythm of him providing her with neatly crafted plans and her ignoring them at every turn. Hardly a day went by when Farid didn’t declare that life as her caretaker was inching him slowly toward an early death.

Farid sighed, his next words soft. “Is something the matter, Karina? Your behavior these last few weeks has been unusually rash, even for you. Missing your lessons—”

“They’re boring.”

“—getting caught with stable boys—”

“Hire uglier stable boys.”

“—all of this would be bad enough normally, but I can’t handle the many demands on the palace for Solstasia if I’m spending half my day chasing you down.” Farid laid a hand on her shoulder. “You know if something is bothering you, you can tell me, right?”

There again was that delicate tone Karina despised. Truth be told, she couldn’t have told Farid what was wrong with her because she herself wasn’t sure if anything actually was. It wasn’t just that the stormy season was approaching, though its arrival did make her restless every year. It wasn’t even the hollowness that ate at her whenever she remembered how Baba and Hanane had been more excited for Solstasia than anyone else, yet they’d never get to see one.

“You could let me participate in some of the events,” Karina suggested. “Then you’d be doing both jobs at once. Like wakama! I’m good at wakama.”

Wakama was one of the few sports Karina was allowed to play, as the Kestrel had decided not long after the fire that it wasn’t safe for Karina to train with actual weapons. Prior princesses, Hanane included, had all studied swordplay, but none of them had been placed in a cocoon of protection the way Karina had.

Farid shook his head, though there was a hint of pity in his voice when he said, “You know I can’t do that.”

Though Karina had made the suggestion in jest, a wave of disappointment flooded through her. She crossed her arms and looked away from Farid.

“Then I guess you’ll have to factor more time into your schedule for chasing me down.”

Enough time had passed now for Commander Hamidou to have alerted the Kestrel to their arrival. As Karina gazed at the door, she drummed her fingers against her leg in time to a new song she’d been learning.

Most girls had families—sisters to teach them, cousins to grow up with them, grandparents to tell them stories.

All Karina had was the Kestrel, and they didn’t talk. When her mother needed to speak with her, she usually had Farid or a servant pass along the message.

But the queen had personally ordered the Sentinels to get her. A chance for a face-to-face conversation between them was rare enough that Karina’s curiosity almost outweighed her fear of what her mother might do to her.

“In all seriousness, you worried me tonight,” said Farid.

Karina snorted and lazily examined the case of her oud. “I was barely gone an hour. Surely you couldn’t have been that worried.”

“I’m always worried for you,” he said softly.

An unnamed emotion welled up in Karina’s throat. Coughing, she replied, “I appreciate the sentiment, but no one’s asking you to do so.”

“It’s not something you can just stop.” Farid sighed again. “You know, Hanane always said that—”