The Serpent's Veil

Darkness

The square was in an uproar. News of the aqueduct being shut off had somehow reached the very corners of the city despite Firaz only speaking of it to a handful of ministers. Dozens of people had flocked to the central fountains to fill their casks and barrels with fresh water in anticipation of Firaz's formal order.

Khayzuran had no doubt that every well in the city would be drained by the end of the day. She stalked along the edge of the square, hood pulled low over her eyes. Despite her keen sense of hearing, which Yahya had forced her to hone on their journey to Rey, the throng of voices and movement here made it difficult for her to track by sound alone.

She touched the sapphires at her neck, a gesture that was beginning to become a habit, half tempted to pry one from its prongs to loosen the cage around her gift. But Yahya had warned her against it every time he saw her reach for them.

"It will be too much for your to bear." His deep voice echoed in her head, and she brought her hand back to her side. He still thought of her as a weak damsel, and trusted her far less than the other men in his family.

He and Rehan appeared intermittently between the currents of people going past. Their faces were obscured by hoods, but the sound of their breaths, their heartbeats was unmistakable to Khaya's ears. They prowled along the edge of an alley, peering through windows and doors but speaking to no one but each other. Khaya had heard enough of their conversation at the governor's residence to know they were searching for signs of the escaped Umayyad rebel.

They circled back to the same few alleyway entrances twice, thrice, but to no avail. The rebel had left no signs of his presence; none that could be seen by their eyes, at least.

The crowd around them swelled, and they disappeared from view. Did the people milling about the square know the Prince was here among them? Would they know his face if he removed his hood?

A moment later, Yahya came into view, Rehan missing from his side. Khaya whipped her head around, anxiously searching for his familiar black cowl through the gaps between the throng. The crowd suddenly parted, as if moved by an invisible force, and there he was.

Heading straight for her.

Khaya's jaw clenched and she planted herself where she stood, scarcely breathing. As he strode across the clearing his cape bellowed behind him like a phantom wind, sending her heart racing. If she was recognised here—

Her thoughts froze when he was an arms length away, and despite the danger, she risked a glance at his shrouded face as he passed. But his gaze was firmly fixed beyond her, to the base of the towering minaret at the centre of the square.

Khaya remained motionless until she heard the sound of iron grates behind her scraping against each other, and the fading of Rehan's heartbeat as he ascended the minaret. She exhaled a tight breath, letting the knot of fear in her shoulders loosen before she started towards where Yahya still stood.

A lock of hair had come loose from his braid, flicking across his face as he tilted his head. Despite the distance and the droves of people between them, his eyes found her effortlessly. He drew his gaze away so seamlessly, Khaya wasn't sure he'd spotted her at all.

She neared and stopped a few paces beside him, but still, he did not look at her. To the world they appeared two strangers, drawn together briefly by their shared interest in the alleyway before them.

"You shouldn't be here," he mumbled, but she heard it clear as water. "If he sees you, both you and I will have only a pair of hands between us."

She knew it was in jest, but she couldn't help but say, "He would never do something so cruel."