Page 61 of The Wishless Ones
Her voice cracked when she spoke her drowned son’s name, as Jafar’s heart already had.
“I don’t know how to feel,” Rohan said while a pair of dressmakers swept toward him. He was lying—he knew exactly how to feel. Jafar recognized that trill of excitement in his brother’s tone.
His own blood roared. He could barely comprehend his surroundings, so full of noise and hurt and anger that he wanted to scream. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t focus.
Later, he remembered turning his back to the Sultana and her vizier. He remembered Rohan calling his name, the marble floors unforgiving beneath his feet, the morning heat surrounding him like a blanket against his cold reality.
It wasn’t that Jafar would not be crowned, but thatRohan would be. He hadn’t come here for power and a throne, but he could not stand for his brother to have both or either.
“Jafar.”
The world spiraled into focus. He opened his eyes and stared straight into Iago’s golden ones. They were outside in the gardens. When had he stumbled out here?
“Don’t make me slap you,” Iago squawked, settling on a plinth by the reflecting pool. The water rippled ever so slightly as a pair of birds flitted in and out of the roses.
Jafar was still finding it hard to breathe. Rohan was being crowned prince. Rohan. His—his—
“Do you know what we have that Rohan doesn’t?” Iago asked.
“An uncrowned head?” Jafar asked.
“Well, at least you still have your wits about you,” Iago remarked. “But no, a plan. We still need to get those rubies.”
He’d momentarily forgotten about the rubies.
“For what? To control the chef as he cooks?” Jafar asked.
“You know what, I think I will slap you,” Iago replied cheerily.
“I don’t even know where the rubies are,” Jafar said.
“In the Sultana’s pocket,” Iago said. “I saw her fiddling with them. I can’t tell if she’s using them.”
“She isn’t,” Jafar said, pressing his eyes closed until his head cleared. Somewhat. He’d read that there were indications when the rubies were being used, subtle enough that it wasn’t fully noticeable to those who didn’t know where to look.
“I think she was trying to use them to buy more time for her prince problem before she saw us. Maybe persuade the Hulumi king or something,” Jafar rambled as Iago lifted a brow. “I don’t know. Desperate minds rarely think things through.”
“Well, there you go, then,” Iago said.
“There we go what?” Jafar asked. “Are we just going to reach into her pocket and pull them out?”
“Yes,” Iago said, and rolled a pair of cheap red glass orbs in his talons. Jafar didn’t know when or where Iago had found them. “She’s frazzled and as anxious about everything as we are. We’ll swap them, and she won’t notice a thing. Desperate minds, remember? You said it yourself.”
“Oh, goody,” Iago said, “she’s alone.”
The throne room was indeed empty. Rohan was nowhere to be seen, nor was the royal vizier, but the Sultana was waiting for Jafar.
“He was taken to be fitted for a wardrobe,” the Sultana explained before he could ask. “You will be fitted for a new collection as well.”
“For what?” Jafar asked, his voice tight. The throne room felt larger than when he’d first arrived, or maybe it was just he who had become smaller, somethingless thanwithout his brother’s company.
“For a life of luxury as a companion to the prince,” she said, but Jafar wouldn’t fall for that again. He’d always known the Sultana was cunning, yet somehow he’d arrived in Maghriz and ignored the fact.
Jafar scoffed. “Advisor, you mean, because ‘together, we make a formidable pair’?”
“If you would rather leave the palace, you are welcome to, but Rohan must be made presentable for the princess and her father tonight.”
Tonight. Jafar felt cold all over. Iago’s talons tightened around Jafar’s shoulder.
