in a swirl of stardust, the moon turned the girl into its shadow, bereft of all light. Tethered to it for all time. This shadow moon—the new moon—was granted power only a few nights a year. But never power enough to free itself from its bonds.”
“This is why the moon we know seems to disappear,” Artan finished quietly. “Overshadowed. Eclipsed.”
Shahrzad nodded once. “Always chasing the true moon.”
Their voices fell silent as the waves crashed in the distance.
“Why are you here, little snipe?” Artan began. “Is it really for your father?”
“Yes.” Her response was swift.
“Nothing more?”
At this, Shahrzad hesitated. Of course she was here for her father. But she was also here for another reason. A reason that needed to remain shrouded in mystery. “Why do you ask?”
Artan turned his head to hers. “Because I know there’s more. I know you’re queen of a broken city and of a kingdom on the brink of war. That your king is a monster.”
Shahrzad said nothing. Her fingers moved to the bare skin of her stomach, tentatively grazing her wound. It felt hot to the touch. Her mind’s eye returned to only moments ago, when Artan Temujin’s face had lost all hints of pretense.
When signs of true remorse—signs of richer emotion—were all too evident.
“Trust is an interesting matter when it comes to Artan. He will not give it to those who do not offer it first.”
Perhaps it was time to put a small measure of trust in this boy. “Khalid is—not a monster. Not at all.” Her heart lulled for a beat in the warmth of memory.
“Truly?” Artan studied her further. “Then what is he?”
“Why are you so curious?” Her eyes narrowed. “Why did you agree to help me, Artan Temujin?”
Artan did not reply immediately. “That story about the girl? It’s about my family.”
“What?” Trying to conceal her shock, Shahrzad turned to face him.
“Don’t misunderstand me. Facets of your story are ridiculous. Heavily embellished by time. But its core is rooted in truth. One of my ancestors stole a powerful bringer of light to become an equally powerful wish-granter. In return, her maker trapped her. Bound her to him forever. A powerful genie, trapped in a hollow sword.” His expression was equal parts bitter and blithe.
For a moment, Shahrzad was filled with disbelief. “I—”
“You wanted to know why I agreed to help you. It’s mostly because Musa-abagha asked me to. And because I am bound by my ancestor’s foolishness. Bound to be a trapped granter of wishes. Musa-abagha has kept me safe these many years. Safe from those who would enslave me. Make of me a dragon who does nothing but bring gold necklaces to thankless little girls.” He laughed bitterly. “Musa Zaragoza protects me from my family’s curse; he keeps us—me, Parissa, Mas, and the others—hidden and teaches us to control our powers. Protects us all here at the Fire Temple. Here, when we are asked to use our abilities, it is always our choice. Here, we are never slaves to our magic.”
“But why would Musa-effendi need to protect you from your family?”
“My family is every bit as power-hungry as the girl who grasped the moon. They are monsters imbued with strange magic. My aunt safeguards them in a mountain fortress. But”—Artan paused, his face grim—“she’s made mistakes before. My parents were casualties of her arrogance. They left the fortress, seeking a way to destroy their bonds. The magic they leaked into the world brought about terrible consequences. As a result, my aunt expects me to stay near and do as I’m told. Serve whom I’m told. So I ran away.” Artan watched her closely as he spoke. “I find my aunt’s control to be another form of slavery.”
Shahrzad mirrored his scrutiny, taking care in preparing her next question.
“Is your aunt—very powerful?”
He snorted. “She could set fire to this temple with a single belch. And light every candle in Khorasan with the mere hint of her flatulence.”
“Be serious.”
“She’s powerful.” Artan laughed without guile. “And, like you, completely devoid a sense of humor.”
Shahrzad let another small stretch of time pass, the sound of waves crashing upon one another growing louder, much like her thoughts. “Is she powerful enough to cure the sick?” She gnawed her lip. “Powerful enough to—break a curse?”
“Ah.” He cut her a glance, all signs of humor gone. “There it is. Are you the one cursed?”
Shahrzad closed her eyes, then shook her head.
“Well, she’d need to speak with the one cursed,” Artan replied. “And she would need to know what kind