The Rose & the Dagger (The Wrath and the Dawn #2) - Renee Ahdieh Page 0,99
now the soldiers were leaving her be. They had not come to harass her for quite some time.
At least now she was alone.
Shahrzad wrapped her arms around her legs. The sound of her wet sniffle seemed to leap from wall to wall. The torch beyond her cell flickered out.
Leaving her in utter darkness.
“You have not lost hope?” A gruff voice resonated from just outside the bars.
Shahrzad said nothing. She was not certain if it was another prisoner or a guard still trying to toy with her. Still trying to break her.
“You. Girl. Are you still alive?” the voice repeated in a dry rasp. It sounded like a pile of dead leaves gusting across granite pavestones.
Again, she said nothing.
I will not break. Ever.
“Girl? Are you alive?”
She sighed, loud and long. “I am, you ornery bastard. What of it?”
“Good.” The voice coughed. Whoever it was, was old, bordering on sickly. “I’ve watched you these last four days. You’ve got courage.”
“I suppose you think I should be flattered?”
Another cough. “No.”
“Then what do you want?”
A pause. “I don’t know yet.”
“Then leave me be.”
“Have you something better to do?”
“No.”
“Neither do I.” The strange old man waited for a spell. “You remind me of something.”
Shahrzad shifted as she threw her eyes to the ceiling of her cell, her chains clanking around her. “And what is that?”
“The banyan tree I used to hide in as a boy.”
Despite everything, Shahrzad’s interest was piqued, for he was unlike any of the soldiers who had come to torment her thus far. “Banyan tree?”
The rustling sound from beyond the darkness made Shahrzad think her strange visitor had settled in for a while. He cleared his throat. “When I made mischief as a child, I would run to the hollow of a very old banyan tree on the edge of the jungle and hide within it before my father could punish me.”
“And why do I remind you of this tree?”
“Because these trees destroy everything around them over time.”
Shahrzad let out an unamused chuff. “Thank you for the lovely story, old man.”
He coughed a low chortle. “I meant it as a compliment.”
“Forgive me for not seeing it as such.”
“Where I come from, we are raised to see things in a never-ending cycle. I saw that cycle in the life of the banyan tree. It grows big and tall and wide while providing shelter to those who seek it. Over time, it can grow too big for itself, destroying everything around it. But I’ve also watched it slowly feed its way to new life. Provide roots for the new trees. Seeds for the new flowers. You are a banyan tree because in you I see this story. The beginning and the end of all things. The hope for something to grow, even in shadow.”
Shahrzad’s pulse started to rise.
The old man’s voice had begun to deepen as he spoke. Had begun to lose some of its raspiness. Had begun to roll like distant thunder.
“Be the beginning and the end, Shahrzad al-Khayzuran.” A flare of light burst to life across the way. “Be stronger than everything around you.”
The face of the Rajput shone bright in the flickering flame.
“Make all our many sacrifices worth it.”
THE HEAD OF A FLYING SERPENT
THE ARMY THAT MADE ITS WAY TO THE GATES OF Amardha was an unusual one.
The like of which had not been seen in an age.
At its head rode a boy-king beneath a banner of two crossed swords. His cuirass was of silver and gold, and his rida’ was of unrelieved black. By his side were his uncle and his cousin. One wore a cloak with a griffin stitched upon its surface, and the other wore a medallion signifying his status as the captain of the Royal Guard.
At the young king’s flank rode a boy in white, flying the banner of a falcon. A boy who had been his enemy mere days ago.
At this boy’s shoulder rode a host of the finest horsemen this side of the Sea of Sand. Horsemen who had not ridden to war for a generation.
Above them flew a young man with a bald head glistening in the afternoon sun. A young man with a gold ring through each ear. A young man on a flying serpent with scales of darkest night, rippling with each beat of its leathery wings.
A serpent that screamed through the heat with a sound like nails across stone.
The host moved in concert, led by this boy-king and the head of a flying serpent.