Page 62 of The Wishless Ones
“Will there be no swearing in or ceremony?” he asked, grasping at straws. Trying to delay the inevitable.
“Aman has always been prince,” the Sultana said. There she was again, manipulating words and the world, renaming his brother like he was a pet fish she’d come to own.
“Do you really think the people will look at him and believe he’s your son?” Jafar asked. “No alchemy can alter that many minds at once.”
“We’re changing guards as we speak. Those who will patrol inside the palace will never have seen the prince before. As far as officials go, my son was rarely present to discuss matters of state. Believe me, Jafar, I have thought this through.”
Jafar scoffed. “No matter what your kingdom might believe, Rohan will always be my brother first—and a commoner.”
Then he leaned closer to Iago, biting out a single word under his breath to signal the start of their plan.“Now.”
The Sultana smiled as Iago leaped off Jafar’s shoulder. “I expect nothing less. Do you know why you were not chosen?”
There were too many bitter ways to answer that question, and so Jafar remained silent.
“You possess far more qualities worthy of a king than your brother ever will,” the Sultana said as Iago rounded behind her. For a bright red parrot, he could be subtle when he wanted to be. “But there is a darkness about you, a beast you keep hidden. And you hide it well.”
Jafar’s pulse thrummed beneath his left eye, at the swell of his cheekbone. “That same darkness lives in his blood.”
“You were prepared to kill that prisoner, and the thief,” the Sultana said.
“Prepared to,” Jafar parroted her words back at her, half his focus on Iago dipping his beak into her pocket. “He killed an innocent, helpless duckling.”
She held his gaze. “As you did your father.”
Behind her, Iago’s beak fell open with a soundless croak, just as surprised as Jafar that she’d somehow learned the truth. Jafar could only stare.
“No retort?” she asked. “Am I wrong to assume that days after you are accepted into the House of Wisdom, your father destroys your scholarship, and so he dies in a mysterious fire? Why else would you arrive here with no scholarship in hand?”
It was true, and no one but Iago knew of the fact. Baba had deserved every moment of his suffering, every lick of the fire that burned him to a crisp. The only remorse he had ever felt about the fire was because of Rohan’s suffering. His pain, his self-blame.
Now, Jafar regretted nothing.
She lowered her chin to look him straight in the eye. “Something tells me his death was due to more than the scholarship. Was it to protect you and your brother, or was it to unleash your anger?”
“Are they not one and the same?” Jafar asked. He couldn’t stop his eyes from widening when Iago’s talon hooked in the Sultana’s cloak. He quickly whipped his gaze to the window as if he’d seen something flit past, and the Sultana looked, too, her cloak shifting with the movement. Iago pulled free and hopped to the back of the throne.
The Sultanahmmed in answer. A thrum spread to Jafar’s veins, beating beneath his skin, begging for release.
“I will not have a woman who lies to her people wielding judgment upon me,” Jafar said. “You know nothing of my life and my suffering. Or Rohan’s, for that matter. Do you think he can take the place of a son you had groomed for the throne from birth? Do you think your son’s replacement only needed to look somewhat like him? Rohan is my brother. If I am a monster, then he is my match. Death surrounds him. You’ve seen it yourself.”
Rohan did have a gentler soul than he did, but Jafar had seen the dead duckling in Rohan’s hands. He’d seen the way Baba emerged in Rohan’s actions at times. He didn’t know what his brother was truly capable of doing.
Jafarwas the one who had given the Sultana what she had needed.Jafarhad been the one to pass her test. Barely a day later, this was his reward.
“I’m queen,” the Sultana said. “I don’t waver in my decisions. I will say again that you are welcome to remain here as the prince’s companion and even continue your studies in the House of Wisdom. Or leave.”
It didn’t matter, he told himself. If the Sultana wanted to dig herself and her kingdom a grave, that was her choice. Perhaps Rohancouldbe taught. He was young and willing to learn.
Jafar looked to Iago to see if he’d found the rubies, but the parrot only shook his head. At the question in Jafar’s furrowed brow, Iago gestured to her other pocket with a wing.
The Sultana heard the rustle of his feathers. She started to turn around. “Wh—”
“F-fine,” Jafar half shouted.
She lifted her eyebrows at him. “What did you say?”
“I said fine. Yes. I accept your offer.”
