Girl, Serpent, Thorn - Melissa Bashardoust Page 0,74

know I’m gone until he returns tomorrow night.”

Parvaneh shook her head. “You haven’t considered something. When the Shahmar returns to the palace, he’ll likely notice I’m missing. And once he does, he won’t leave the pariks unattended, or he might move them somewhere else entirely. This is our only chance.”

Parvaneh charged into the forest, and Soraya was glad to let her take the lead, because as soon as the trees enveloped her, she knew she could easily forget her purpose and wander deeper and deeper into this forest until it swallowed her whole. The beams of moonlight filtering through the canopy draped over the trees like pale silk or cobwebs, giving the forest the impression of being ancient and untouched. But I can touch it, Soraya thought. The leaves and roses of her golestan had cradled her since childhood, never refusing or shying away from her touch, and so when Soraya reached up a hand to pass through the leaves dangling above her head like diamonds, she felt like she was greeting a dear friend.

Ahead of her, Parvaneh seemed to feel the same. She had dived into the forest with purpose, but now her pace was slower, and she often reached out to lay her palm against the thick, knotted tree trunks that they passed. Her dark wings and hair blended into the forest, and she moved around trees and over roots without pause, already knowing where they would be.

Soraya didn’t have the same confident familiarity, and yet she didn’t mind when she stumbled over the uneven ground or when her hair became tangled in the slender branches of a birch tree. These brief stumbles only brought her into closer contact with the forest, allowing her to know the paper-like texture of the bark under the pads of her fingers, the rich, earthy smell of the soil, the brush of leaves against her cheek—the forest returning her caresses.

They started to pass through rows of trees with twisting trunks, their thick, ropy branches reaching across to each other, creating a kind of latticed arch overhead, when Soraya called for Parvaneh to stop.

Parvaneh turned to her. “What happened? Is something wrong?”

Soraya shook her head, but she couldn’t speak, the tears stinging her eyes threatening to overflow. She only gestured to the scenery around them—to the clumps of moss glowing in the moonlight against the dark wood of the trees, and the silhouettes of the branches tangled with one another. Somewhere in the distance, an owl was hooting, low and reverberant.

Parvaneh’s face softened, and she nodded. “I understand.”

A few stray leaves had wound themselves into Parvaneh’s hair, and her eyes glowed with bliss and moonlight. Her wings fluttered behind her, the sound as soft as the rustle of wind through the trees. If Parvaneh told her she was the forest made flesh, Soraya would have believed her.

Unable to look away from her, Soraya murmured, “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

Parvaneh started to come toward her, the air around them heavy with dew and silence—but then she stopped and turned to her right, suddenly alert. “The wind just changed,” she said.

“What do you mean?” Soraya asked, feeling slightly breathless.

“Can’t you smell it?”

Soraya lifted her head and inhaled deeply, and a familiar feeling of safety wrapped around her. That scent …

“Esfand,” Soraya said, her excitement building. “If the pariks are being held prisoner—”

“The Shahmar would need esfand to weaken them and keep them from transforming,” Parvaneh finished for her.

Parvaneh took the lead again with renewed purpose, and Soraya followed, struggling to match her quickened pace in the dark. But even though her skin was damp from perspiration and the humidity in the air, and she kept scratching herself on branches and shrubs, and she heard the ragged sound of her own breath, Soraya wasn’t tired. On the contrary, she was invigorated, like she was coming to life with every step deeper into the heart of this forest.

“We’re getting closer,” Soraya said. “The smell is getting stronger.”

“I know.” Parvaneh panted beside her. “I feel weak. You have to go on without me.”

Soraya spun in the direction of her voice with a disbelieving glare. “You’re going to leave me?”

“I’ll wait right here. But you have to put out the esfand first—I can barely breathe. As soon as you do, I’ll find you. I promise.”

It was foolish to trust the promise of a div, but Parvaneh hadn’t broken a promise to her yet, and Soraya was the one with a secret. Soraya nodded and walked ahead, following the