Rain lashes the domes of Sidi in violent sheets, turning the streets to slop and sending rats scurrying through the drains. Mist creeps through the alleys, seeping into every crack of sandstone and mortar, swallowing the cries of hawkers and the clatter of hooves. It hangs thick over Zeruhan, the ancestral seat of the Zeybeks, cloaking its courtyards and balconies in a suffocating gray. Within, the estate boils with unrest. Whispers fly like crows. Ziad has returned. The Emir. After so many years. He brings soldiers with him. Hard-eyed men bearing the sigil of the Cerulean Star stitched into their cloaks. They wear not the blue and gold of diplomacy. These wear armor lacquered black and trimmed in cobalt, as if to announce they come not in peace, but to occupy.
In the silence of her chambers, Aleyna Zeybek sits at the edge of her canopied bed, her back straight, hands clenched around a letter gone soft and crumpled. The ink has bled. The parchment is knotted and damp from tears, but she knows every word by heart. Rashid’s hand. Rashid’s voice. She’s read it enough. She could use it. She could ruin Ziad with it. Or she could destroy it and pretend it never reached her. Both choices taste bitter.
A rustle at the door draws her gaze. Her handmaiden stands poised, awaiting instruction. A youthful thing, narrow-shouldered and solemn-eyed, more shadow than girl, but she’s always been sweet.
Aleyna nods, and the girl flits away.
When the door shuts, she reaches up and unfastens her headscarf. Tawny hair falls about her shoulders in tired curls. Her fingers drift, almost absently, to the ridged stumps above her brow, where horns once grew, long, long ago.
On the floor lies the broken mirror, a jagged spiderweb of glass. In its shards she sees a hundred versions of herself, none whole. She lowers her gaze to the scarf across her lap; red and blue silk embroidered with lilies. A child’s gift. Khimi had brought it to her, proud as can be, one sun-bright afternoon. She remembers how his eyes shined, how small his hands had been at the time. How fiercely he had believed it would suit her then. He had seldom given her gifts after this… but she couldn’t blame him.
A soft sob escapes her lips. She presses the scarf to her mouth to stifle the sound.
Khimi. Not a day passes where she doesn’t long for him. Rashid’s letters tell her more than a mother should know from ink. His triumphs, his sufferings. How he bleeds. How his affections burn. The words bring joy, and sorrow. She wishes to write to him, to pour out her heart on parchment, but fear knots her throat. If Khimi knew, if he knew Rashid betrayed his trust for her sake, would he ever forgive it?
Heavy footsteps break her thoughts. Her fingers tremble as she replaces the headscarf. A rap at the door startles her.
“Aleyna?”
Maza again.
She composes herself in the instant between breath and reply. “Come in.”
The door creaks open just enough for the girl to peek through, her verdant eyes wide. “Emir Ziad is here,” she whispers. “Shall I—”
The door bursts open. Maza stumbles back with a yelp as he barrels past her, tall and thunderous in his black-and-red kaftan. “Aleyna!”
Maza cries again as she’s knocked into the frame.
It’s as if no time has passed at all. The man before her appears almost identical to the one she knew all those years ago, just before they parted ways. He is every bit Khimi’s father; copper skin and raven hair now flecked with streaks of gray. His features have softened gently with age, but there is still a darkness around his eyes that makes it appear as though he hasn’t slept in weeks. He looks at odds with himself outside the usual colors of the house. He glares down at her, a crease between his brows.
“Emir Zeybek,” Maza stammers, flinching. “Ziad—”
“Ziad,” Aleyna cuts in, cold as frost. She rises from the bed like a queen from her throne. “Maza.” She snaps her fingers for urgency. “Leave us.”
“But—”
The door slams before Maza can finish. The girl is gone. Only the two of them remain.
Aleyna stares him down. “Is this how you treat a servant of the Cerulean Star?”
Ziad crosses his arms. “Your servant,” he corrects. “A servant of the Cerulean Star would never speak against their master.”
Aleyna’s lip curls, irritated. “Still clinging to that dogma, are you? What are you doing, Ziad? Are you truly planning to continue pursuing this folly? The Golden Isles—”
“Folly?” Ziad laughs to himself, shaking his head. “The Isles are the trading capital of Talmus. If we control them under the Cerulean Star, all the wealth and power—”
“Stop, Ziad!” Aleyna shouts. She holds back tears, forcing herself to stand strong before him. The letter crumples in her hand. “Ziad, if you ever bore any love for me, please, listen. I beg of you. You can pursue whatever goals… whatever motives you wish, but I implore you. You must stop interfering with Khimi—with our son’s—”
“Aleyna,” Ziad chuckles, pushing on the door. He bangs a fist against the wall beside it. “Everything with you always comes back to him, doesn’t it?”
Grabbing hold of the bedpost, Aleyna pleads, “Why… why must you always torture him? He’s never done anything to you… he only ever wanted to make you happy!”
“When I left… do you remember what I said to you? What I told you?” Ziad voice drips into that mocking lilt she hates more than any devil. He lowers his head, then lifts his eyes to meet hers, and presses, “Do you remember, Aleyna?”
Aleyna grits her teeth, clenching as those old wounds threaten to reopen. “You didn’t leave on kind terms,” she spits out, “I tend to keep those things to the back of my mind.”
“I’ll help you remember then—since you tend to forget!” Ziad shouts, crossing the room in a blink. He stands before her, peering down his nose in disgust. “I don’t care how you raise our son. Khimi only has to do one thing. Produce. An. Heir. Someone. Someone to continue our line. Aside from that… that one small thing, what Khimi does is of no consequence to me.”
“Perhaps… in time!” Aleyna says, nearly shaking. “He is free to do as he pleases.”
Ziad’s lips tighten cruelly. “You lost him when he was barely an adult… and I thought maybe it would be good for him to build character. You let him wander with ruffians for years. I wondered what kind of mother would raise her child with such a careless hand?” he chuckles. “And then somehow after all these years he finds his way home… and yet he only disappoints me further. One failure after another. Constant, repeated failures. I can’t say it’s all his fault… after all, failure is in his blood.”
“You don’t have the right!” Aleyna shouts. “You don’t get to question me as a mother… not after what you did to him!” she shouts. “You don’t get to question who he is!”
“Don’t worry. You won’t have to see me much longer. I stopped here during my travels… I just found the letter to be a bit assertive for you. I thought maybe you grew those horns back,” Ziad says, placing his hand a span above hers on the poster. “I couldn’t imagine you’d have the gall to have them grown back.”
Aleyna grimaces, shifting from Ziad. “How can you be so cruel?”
“Cruel?” Ziad replies, his tone biting. “Cruel was what your father did to me.”
“Don’t start with this,” Aleyna begs. “He didn’t know you were a bastard when he offered my hand in marriage.”
Ziad smiles, and it’s so inhuman it makes her skin crawl. “I trusted your father, but I never thought he’d deceive me into marrying something less than human.”
“I removed every trace of my heritage that you hated…” Aleyna murmurs, shaken, “I hid myself from everyone for you. It’s you, Ziad! You who is less than human! You’re a-a bloody demon!”
“When your father asked me to take your hand, he never told me I would be married to a cow!” Ziad laughs, shaking the bedpost. “I have suffered many tragedies in my life… but that—that was the most painful.”
Fury slips into Aleyna’s features. “I was happy before we wed… though we never loved each other, we both wanted a child—”
“A child? A child? Of course, I wanted a child!” Ziad shouts. He presses his fingers over his brow. “And even then… you failed. Time and time again.”
Aleyna suddenly brandishes the crumpled parchment. “If you wanted a child so badly… why would you wish to harm the only one we have?” Eyes filled with sorrow; she pleads.
Ziad’s face begins to drain of color. “You have eyes in Rhaz as well,” he says, shrugging off the notion of his betrayal.
“Y-you admit to it then?!” Aleyna asks, terror taking hold of her. “I always knew you were cruel, Ziad… but let our son be! Let Khimi be!”
Ziad snatches hold of Aleyna’s wrist. “Do you want him to suffer a life as you have!?” he asks, shaking her hard. He smirks through her retaliation; her hand slamming against his side. “I was trying to free him from making the same mistake I have!”
“A mistake?! Mistake!” Aleyna shouts, trying to free herself. “Khimi finally finds someone he cares for… and you try to kill them? Our son nearly died, Ziad! Rashid almost died!”
Ziad chuckles, his fierce cerulean eyes piercing through her. “Rashid should’ve abandoned Khimi when he was still a boy. He’s been a crutch… unnecessary,” he replies, tossing her hand aside.
Aleyna nurses her swollen wrist, glancing up at Ziad with vehemence. “You’re foul—”
Her words are cut short. The back of Ziad’s hand smashes across her cheek. “I won’t let him make the same mistakes I’ve made. He will provide an heir or I’ll see him dead before our bloodline is clouded any further with subhuman blood.”
“He is a beastkin, Ziad!” Aleyna shouts, her hand pressed to her cheek. “When will you admit it to yourself?”
“He’s nothing like you!” Ziad shouts, drawing closer towards her. He squats before her at the foot of the bed. “Aleyna… he’s nothing like you,” he adds, grabbing a handful of her flaxen hair. “He’ll never be anything like you. I’ll see him dead… I’ll see him dead.”
“He may not have horns or a tail… but he’s just the same as I am,” she whispers, glancing at the door.
Ziad’s fingers curl into her hair, tugging sharply. “Quiet,” he whispers, shushing her.
“Ziad—”
“Aleyna… eshgh,” he starts, kneeling on the floor before her. “You’ll never… say that again… you’ll never leave this estate again. Mark me, this will be your tomb.” His lips curl as he finishes. “If you so much as breathe a word of this… there will be consequences.”
Aleyna pulls away, hair tearing against Ziad’s grip. “You’ve already hurt us enough… you can’t do anything worse.”
“Aleyna.” Ziad clicks his tongue. “It’s not too late for me to take a new wife. It’s not too late to make a new heir.”
“Then do it. Leave! Go!” Aleyna roars.
Ziad glances around the room. “I don’t think I’ve gotten to that point—it’s never been my goal, but if you… force me,” he says, disgust burning in his eyes. He pauses to wipe the sweat from his brow. “You promoted weakness in our son. How many years after I left did it take for him to pick up his saber? Did you ever do anything to make him a strong—”
“Everything! Everything I did after you left was for Khimi,” she replies, and the tears stream down her cheek in earnest now.
“But… did you do anything to make him a stronger person? He’s a shell of what he should have been,” Ziad says. “He’s a disappointment, Aleyna. He’s your disappointment.”
Aleyna pushes herself away from Ziad. “You’ll never know who he’s become. He’s strong, proud, he’s resolute!”
“No matter which qualities you think you have given him… he’ll always be a far cry from what could have been,” Ziad says as he crosses to the window to study the garden courtyard. “I won’t be here much longer. I’m returning to the Isles,” he adds, fingers drumming along the cerulean sill. “There’ll be far more here to keep an eye on you now. I’ve allowed you far too much freedom, it seems.”
“Why?” she asks, rising from the floor. “You’ve kept me prisoner here for nearly two decades…”
“And still you managed to get correspondence past my soldiers,” he says, turning back to Aleyna. “Rashid,” he snorts, “is no longer welcome in Zeruhan. I’ll see that the new guard is aware.”
Aleyna glares at him, hatred burning in every fiber of her being. Her cheeks flush red when she spits out her words: “Hells take you!” She trembles with anger. “You come all this way just to knock me around?”
Ziad meets her gaze with a cool look, and releases a tsk of disapproval. He makes for the door. “I came all this way to make sure my house is still in order,” he retorts. “It’s been quite something to see you again.”
But Aleyna is not ready to let him leave so easily. She rushes after him, blocking his path. “Ziad, tell me, just say you’re done interfering with Khimi!” she demands, braced against the doorframe.
Ziad shakes his head and glares down at her as though she were nothing more than filth. He runs his fingers through his peppered hair. “If he continues to strut about like a peacock with that aslan… I will be forced to act,” he declares, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder. “And if you’re thinking of telling Khimi about me… just consider how heartbroken your sensitive little boy will be,” he adds, gently shoving her out of the way.
As the heavy wooden door opens, she continues her chase; her steps seeming to match the pounding of her heart. “Ziad… if you lay a finger on Khimi, I swear…” Her words are cut off once she reaches his side.
Ziad turns with a startling quickness, cerulean eyes flashing. She can see the servants scurrying out of their way, sensing the tension between them. “So help you, what?” he asks with that sinister smirk.
Aleyna’s breath catches in her throat, but she squares her shoulders and stares him down. “I’ll make sure you suffer for it,” she says, though she cannot stop her body from shaking.
Ziad chuckles at her bravado and strokes his chin thoughtfully. “When that day comes, Aleyna… I’ll be waiting to see what you can do,” he says, incredulous. With that, he turns and strides down the long corridor. Without turning back, he whispers: “And he will provide an heir. One way or another.”
Aleyna watches him leave, her hands trembling as the source of years of torment vanishes from her home. The hallway seems to stretch forever as she stands alone, her mind racing with thoughts of revenge and justice.
Left alone in her prison, a sense of horror fills her as she realizes just how far her husband would go to achieve his goals. Her mind spins with regret, wishing she had never sent that damned letter. Now all she wants is to see Khimi again, to tell him of the atrocities committed by his father before it’s too late.
Maza approaches, footfalls padded by the soft Rhazian rugs. “Lady Aleyna,” she whispers softly. She reaches out, her fingertips caressing her shoulder. “You should get some rest.”
Aleyna’s still shaking. Her heart pounds, and more than anything, she wishes she were stronger, that her father still lived. “Ziad…”
[1] Love