Page 51 of The Wishless Ones
But if it was Rohan’s idea to combine the spells and Rohan who had found the prisoner to begin with, had Jafar really discovered the secret to papermaking? Was it Jafar who had unearthed the Maghrizi kingdom’s salvation?
Rohan didn’t think so.
“We explored the palace,” he said before Jafar could speak.
The Sultana looked to him at last.
As did Jafar. His gaze was heavier than an anvil. This would be easier if Jafar didn’t look at him. Jafar hadn’t cared when that man was vomiting blood. Rohan needed to be just as uncaring.
“First, I saw an attendant taking food to the dungeons,” Rohan continued, “and later, I found the iron door.”
Beside him, Jafar tensed when Rohan shifted fromwetoI. Just as Jafar had when he’d lied to Rohan and brought him all this way.
“I found your Maghrizi prisoner,” he continued. Iago made a sound. Rohan ignored him, because he wanted to say more.You tortured the prisoner. You hurt your own people. You’re not worried about war, you’re greedy.
But weren’t they all?
Rohan took a deep breath. “And then, I found your secret.”
Jafar had watched a man retch his secrets while spewing bile and blood. He had looked at his father’s corpse and he had run for his life from guards. Yet it was only now that he felt sick to his stomach. Why was Rohan doing this? EveryIthat escaped his lips was a blade nicking Jafar’s skin, a slap across his cheek.
Jafar tried taking a sip of tea, to busy himself, to dosomething, but it was cardamom and only made his stomach churn more.
“You can’t just sit there, Jafar,” Iago whispered in his ear. If the Sultana had heard, she didn’t react.
But Jafar had no choice. He couldn’t denounce Rohan’s claims, not without condemning him to the sword for lying to the queen.An important oath,Mama had said long, long ago. It stuck with him mostly becauseoathwas a funny word, and he didn’t learn what it truly meant until he was much older.
An oath was solemn, protected, sacred, and as the adults in his life violated them time and time again, it became increasingly imperative that Jafar never did.
“Our rubi—” Iago began.
Jafar shook his head. He couldn’t even think of the rubies right now, he couldn’t even worry about the fact that Rohan was going about it all wrong by not attempting to set up a trade first.
“My secret?” the Sultana asked Rohan, brow creased.
Rohan didn’t pause, he didn’t look to Jafar, he didn’t even let a beat pass before he volleyed his response:yes. That one word became two, then ten, and even as Jafar’s blood heated and simmered and eventually boiled, Rohan didn’t stop.
“The secret to papermaking that you so desire.”
The Sultana whirled to Harun. He gave her a small, almost imperceptible nod. His stern scowl softened. His cold gaze warmed. Their joy and pride was directed at Rohan, despite the blood on Jafar’s fingers, despite the words that had been hoarse in his throat as the prisoner had gone from smug to alarmed, despite the way something in Jafar had broken while he followed through with the alchemical experiment.
Jafar finally locked eyes with Rohan.Why are you doing this?
Rohan stared back coolly, and his response was clear.Did you not do the same?
He sat back, realizing he had given Rohan too much credit. It wasn’t that he was inept and going about it all wrong by not demanding to barter with the Sultana—he was punishing Jafar.
This wasn’t like Rohan. He was never vindictive; he never held a grudge. He was forever doting, forever fascinated by anything and everything Jafar had done. But ever since setting foot in the palace, Rohan had been different.
He had dissuaded Jafar from interrogating the prisoner. He had done worse than just stand there as Jafar extracted the secret—he’d tried to make him feel horrible for looking out for their best interests. Forhelpingthem.
He had wanted to make Jafar feel like he was in thewrong, just as Baba would, time and time again, and now he was claiming Jafar’s deeds as his own.
The Sultana turned back to them. “This is not what I wished upon you. The young must be allowed to be young, even those in a palace.”
The royal vizier cleared his throat.
The Sultana looked chagrined. Was she speaking of her son? Jafar was sorting through too many of his own emotions to decipher hers.
