Page 35 of The Wishless Ones
And the vizier had understood exactly what she’d meant.
At Jafar’s question now, the vizier deferred to the Sultana, who studied both Rohan and Jafar with a furrow in her brow. A sorrow, he wanted to guess. She wasn’t wholly present, as if part of her had been left behind and was yet to catch up. He didn’t fully know what was happening, but he wanted the rubies and Rohan wanted the genie.
And until Jafar retrieved the rubies, he couldn’t risk Rohan’s learning what he needed to about the golden scarab and dragging them away to find the two halves.
The Sultana pulled her royal vizier behind one of the round tables with precariously stacked scrolls. Her voice was low, but Jafar had grown up in the silence of Baba’s presence. His hearing was better than most.
“We will have our pick,” she said to him.
The vizier didn’t seem so certain. “People will know, Your Highness.”
The Sultana shook her head. “It’s been years.”
Iago leaned closer to Jafar’s ear. “I can’t tell if they’re talking about cooking us up, or the rubies you’re sure she stole.”
“I can’t, either,” Jafar said, and beckoned Rohan closer.
“Now’s our chance to make a run for it, then,” Iago replied.
“No,” Jafar said. “Not without the—”
“The whereabouts of the golden scarab,” Rohan finished, overhearing them. Jafar gave him a tight smile. “So why are we trying to visit the palace?”
“Because we can’t say no to the queen,” Jafar answered matter-of-factly, touching the back of his neck.
Rohan’s eyes widened. “That’s the Sultana of Maghriz?”
“Yes, it is,” the Sultana replied, returning to them. She laughed at his shock. “And I hear from your brother that the two of you traveled long and far to reach us. Please, allow me to properly welcome you to my kingdom.”
Rohan opened his mouth to protest.
“Ah,” she said, stopping him with a raised hand. “It’s impolite to refuse.”
Jafar held very still. He couldn’t place her tone, but he was certain a threat was to follow.
It did not come.
She turned and glided away in the direction of the exit, in the direction of the Maghrizi palace, her cloak stretching a dark reflection in the gloss of the wide tiles. It looked like an oasis, one Jafar wasn’t certain he should follow, but he understood: she was a queen, and the threat was implied. They had no choice. He stared after her, a nervous Rohan beside him.
For the rubies,Jafar tried to convince himself. The only difference between the moment he’d met the Sultana and now was the illusion that hehada choice.
“Look at the bright side,” Iago said. “At least the two of you are dressed the part.”
That eerie silence grew louder and louder as Rohan and Jafar neared the palace. That sense of mourning settled over him like rare, sticky heat. He remembered what Jafar had said: it felt as if someone was dead.
Rohan knew how that felt. He’d experienced it twice. Once when he’d found Mama’s body cold and unmoving on the kitchen floor, and again when he’d lost his house, his father, and his life in one fell swoop.
“You find it odd that I insist upon your visit,” the Sultana said, glancing back at them. The sunlight glinted off the lemon-drop jewels that dangled from her ears. Her azure gown was as bright as the sky, but it only served to make her look paler. Sadder, somehow.
Rohan stumbled on a reply.
“Admittedly, yes,” Jafar said. He possessed an innate charisma. Rohan thought again how his brother had been born to the wrong class, even if Baba’s later riches had eventually raised them higher. He wasn’t meant to be poor or even middle class. He was destined for greater things. He could call himself a prince in the streets, and no one would question it—the guard earlier had said as much.
The Sultana smiled. “It’s been long since we’ve had such young acolytes. The world is not as it used to be.”
Her gaze darkened, or perhaps that was the sun disappearing from view when they stepped under the shade of the palace entrance. They climbed the low, crescent-shaped staircase that led to a pair of wide, dark wooden doors that must have taken months and skillful talent to carve.
The guards pushed them open as the four of them neared. The Sultana didn’t even pause her stride as she entered, her royal vizier following her inside like a loyal tiger, Jafar and Rohan at their heels.
