Page 43 of The Wishless Ones
Rohan wouldn’t let the man intimidate him.
He straightened his spine and squared his shoulders, turning his back on Harun as he returned to their chambers, where he would wait for Jafar and then use him for once.
That night, Rohan waited in Jafar’s room, listening through the crack of the door while his brother tiptoed past the antechamber, both he and Iago murmuring low to avoid Rohan. When Jafar stepped inside the room, his eyes were bright and a little starry. Rohan knew his brother loved knowledge, but he didn’t think he loved itthatmuch.
“About time,” Rohan said.
Jafar startled and Iago screeched like a ghoul. Jafar exhaled and lit more lanterns, letting the silence stretch between them, likely waiting for Rohan to speak first.
“I was lonely without you,” Jafar finally said.
Apologies were not in his nature, but Jafar could be convincing and persuasive, and Rohan was as much a victim to his powers of charisma as anyone else. Awareness was a step, he supposed.
“Did you know a new moon is sometimes called a black moon?” Jafar asked.
At least he wasn’t lecturing him for storming out.
Still, Rohan gave him a look. “Did you know that the Sultana’s royal vizier spies on us?”
“I did, and can’t imagine why he wouldn’t. They know nothing about us,” Jafar replied. Of course he knew. “Is that why you’re in my room?”
“I was waiting for you.” Rohan rose from the myriad cushions. He wanted to be angry at Jafar, but he couldn’t. He’d spent enough time away from his brother that his anger had faded like the sunlight, and now he was more relieved to see him than anything else. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
He didn’t know if Jafar had been in search of something in particular, or if he was simply in pursuit of any and all knowledge. He didn’t know his brother much at all, he realized.
Jafar removed his robes and hung them on a hook. He straightened his shirt and poured himself a glass of water. “I don’t think I’ll ever finish looking. There’s so much out there. A way to make a woman love you, a way to make you stronger, a way to find anything your heart desires, which I’m certain a hunter would find useful.”
“Or huntress,” Rohan said.
“Indeed,” Jafar said. “The House of Wisdom even has a laboratory for alchemical use. And I found several interesting scrolls, like one detailing how to rid someone of anything, which I certainly see uses for, and another that causes memory loss. If only we’d had that ridding spell when we found out you were allergic to figs and had to suffer for a month.”
Rohan made a face. “Ha, ha.”
He noticed that Jafar hadn’t collected notes or anything of the sort. He could read a page and recall it by memory—every word, every quirk of the script, every tear in the papyrus. As if his brain painted a replica in his head.
Rohan merelyhmmed at it all as Jafar continued speaking, not wanting to hear any of it but not wanting to shut Jafar down, either. He had always been a good listener. “So one can combine ideas or spells, too, then?”
Jafar’s brow furrowed. He seemed surprised at Rohan’s interest. “Which ones?”
“The first ones you mentioned.”
“The spell for memory loss and the one for ridding someone of anything? To make them vomit the memory instead of losing it? So it would make them vomit…words?” Jafar considered that as he sat at the foot of the bed across from Rohan. “I suppose it might be possible to make someone spill a secret.”
Rohan nodded as if that were what he’d been going for all along. “We could have learned how Baba really felt.”
Jafar made a face that told Rohan he knew very well how their father had felt. He touched the gossamer curtains rustling at the window and stared out in the dark gardens for a long moment. “We still know nothing about why the Sultana wants us here. I’m starting to wonder if we should leave.”
Rohan scoffed. “You decided when to come here, so you can leave whenever you want, too.”
“Don’t speak like that,” Jafar said softly, defeated. He turned back to him, his features awash in gold from the lantern light. “I apologize.”
“Apologies are for when something happens that’s out of your control, or when you make a mistake,” Rohan said. He’d come here for the genie and the lamp and the scarab beetles. He’d come because Jafar had lied. “Not when you lie for your own personal gain, Jafar. But all right; I won’t speak like that. If you want to leave, feel free. I’m staying.”
He would get his wishes, even if it was the last thing he did.
Jafar pressed his lips thin and nodded. “Then you should also know that the Sultana’s son is presumed to be dead.”
“The prince?” Rohan asked. “That makes little sense. If the prince was dead, the entire kingdom would know about it.” He laughed dryly. “Yet another thing you’ve kept from me.”
