Thorn

by Intisar Khanani

He glances over our little crowd of nobles and smiles and there is nothing, absolutely nothing, in that smile.

“I have found my calling in life,” I explain with mock seriousness. “I have finally discovered the one thing I excel at—” “Shoveling horse dung?” “Quite,” I say loftily. “I cannot expect you, as a Horse, to understand.” “Mmm.” “In the first place, horse dung is far superior to goose dung, being of larger size. In the second, it is of greater import, being of significantly magnified stench. In the third—” I break off as Falada butts me with his head. “Hey!” “Spare me, O Lady of the Shovel.”

If I go to Valka tonight, I will have only a wish of violence against her—she will have made me come to her, and the power will still rest with her. I need to wait until Valka needs something from me, as she will. And I must think on what I want from her in return. In this moment, it is abundantly clear that my threats will not hold her. She will simply plan to eliminate me before she betrays Kestrin, rather than risk her agreement with the Lady.

He reaches out and takes my hand. I look down, frozen in surprise as he cradles my hand in his own, traces the calluses on my fingers, my palm. A shiver runs up my arm, curling in my belly, but I cannot move to pull my hand away. No one has touched me so before, as if I were precious.

“But that could be dangerous for you. And—” “Dangerous? Dangerous? Did she say dangerous?” Violet cries. Sage nods somberly, her eyes crinkled with amusement. Violet raises her eyes heavenward. “Thorn, let me tell you about dangerous. Dangerous is cutting your finger on a rusty nail. Dangerous is walking too close behind a skittish horse. Dangerous is going anywhere in this city at night. Dangerous is not helping someone stay safe.”

“Very noble,” Sage observes. “But we’re family here—we are. Your name fits right in with ours, so don’t doubt it for a minute—and family looks out for each other.” Her words warm me like the glow of a friendly fire. Family. This is what I have missed all my life: Sage’s motherly touch, the boys’ brotherly concern, Violet’s sisterly love. They are everything I have ever wanted, and nothing like my own family. I can only grin foolishly in response.

SHE HAS A FAMILY!! A LOVING ONE!

How did you like my cousin?” I cast about for something nice to say. “He is very different from yourself, zayyid.” Kestrin hands me up into the waiting carriage, then pauses, retaining my hand in his. I take my seat, my outstretched hand still caught in his, and wait. He smiles crookedly. “You have a way of not answering questions that I am coming to enjoy.” I feel myself flush, but it is not all embarrassment. “I thank you,” I mutter. “I hope you will join us again.” “I would not intrude more than I have already.” “It is no intrusion, veriana, but a pleasure.”

“There will be another dinner in three weeks’ time. Will you not come?” “Zayyid.” I look away, knowing how it must go. I am, after all, a servant. “I can only obey.” He releases my hand as if I had burned him. “No. I would not rob you of your choice. But if you change your mind, I hope you will tell me.”

The expression lingering about his mouth and lurking behind his eyes haunts me, but I still cannot put a name to it. It is only once I have returned home, changed my clothes, and curled up under the covers on my sleeping mat that the right word comes to me: despair.

“Wait.” His voice reverberates with authority. I turn back to him, shoulders bowed, aware that I am a servant again, that I must obey his orders, that whatever power I might have I have only because he has granted it to me. I wish that I could hate him for it. His features stiffen and he looks away. “Do what you will.” I hesitate, watching the fall of shadows on his face. “Get out, then,” he snarls, starting toward me. “Flee back to your geese and forget I called you here.”

I just want this power imbalance to leave the room so we can have thorn and kestrin actually have a more balanced relationship

He stops a bare hand span before me. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? To get away from the court? Then run away, Thorn. I won’t stop you anymore.” “If I truly wanted that, I should have left Tarinon by now.” He takes a heavy breath and lets it out slowly. “You told me once that you could not find a way to leave, nor a place to go.” “I have found a way since,” I tell him, thinking of Red Hawk.

“I do not think I know how. I have been too long at court.” “Perhaps you should come to work with the geese,” I suggest lightly. “They may be temporarily won by treats, but their regard is as easily lost. It is a good lesson for us all.” “Perhaps I will visit you.” “I will look forward to watching their reception of you,” I reply, knowing full well that is one sight I will never see.

“I am princess now and you—” Fury fills my chest, coursing through me like liquid fire. “You will never be princess, Valka. You will always and only be an impostor. Do not think you won’t be found out. This is your one chance to walk away unscathed.”

TELL HER!!!

Valka draws herself up. “I know how to deal with her far better than you do, princess. I hope you will take comfort in your remembered royalty when I am done with you.” “And what will you take comfort in when you are found out, Valka? The gallows? The executioner’s smile? You cannot carry this off.” She smiles poisonously. “I already have.” For a long moment, we glare at each other, the silence between us deafening. Then I dip my head. “I cannot imagine we have anything left to say to each other.” “No,” she agrees.

“She’ll get better, right?” Sage asks, voice wavering. “True healing is in the hands of God,” Berrila says gruffly. “Now let me work.”

It is all I can do not to curse, not to slam my fists into the wooden walls. Kestrin is trying, I know he is, but these guards don’t care. They don’t want to know, and they’d rather pin the fault on Violet than find the men who did this to her. Kestrin might be able to change how these things are handled in the future, but I want justice now. I want these men stopped. Somehow.

else can you offer?” My mouth goes suddenly dry. I cannot look away from him. I am aware in an awful, sickening way that we are in a bedroom. “I—I can’t,” I stumble. “Veria.” He reaches out and touches my sleeve lightly. I flinch away from him, then catch myself. Stupid to show fear, stupid to— “Veria,” he says softly. “Do not look at me so. Have I ever given you reason to fear me?”

“As a thief,” Red Hawk says, “I’ve found that acting when you are afraid is the greatest sign of courage there is.”

“In return, I want something from you that, I fear, cannot be traded. It makes for a difficult bargain.” “What is it?” “I should like your friendship and trust.” I stare at him, my mind flicking to Kestrin and his apple cakes, but the tenor of this is different. There is more truth between Red Hawk and me.

**stares in will the sequel have more red hawk**

“Friends do not betray each other.”

I kiss the top of her head and turn away. She catches my hand and brings it to her cheek. For a long moment we stay like that: her cheek, the palm of my hand, the damp of tears in between.

My grief is a quiet thing, wrapped so tightly around me that sometimes I cannot hear properly, my breath coming in strained gasps.

Put your head up, Thorn.” I force myself to meet his gaze. “This is justice. Don’t be afraid to look at it.” He smiles as I look at him. “It may not be pretty, but sometimes justice has to be hard to keep the rest of us straight and safe.”

I want safety for the women of this city, and I want justice that is more than a favor granted, a debt repaid, a ploy to mock the king.

“Veria,” he says with all the seriousness and gallantry of youth, still hanging on to my hand. “I swear to protect you as if you were my sister, so long as I live.” “And I,” Ash says from his stool. Oak echoes him a moment later. When I glance at Ash, I find his regard bright and sharp as a gemstone. Oak smiles at me, a kind, gentle look, and then glances down at his hands.