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Abarōz and her friends enjoyed one day of peace. The next afternoon, two visitors entered their camp, their relation the same as Kavad’s and his guard.
What was this? Abarōz groaned. More strangers come to harass them?
But as the two dragged toward her, she observed that one was more than known to her.
“MOTHER!” she cried, as Adrina’s captor thrust her forward. “What–what are you doing here?”
She and Shāhpuhr rose from their seats on the grass. As a precaution, they both still wore their plate.
The S̆āh’s guard forced a smile.
“Just paying a friendly visit.”
“What is it you want?” asked Abarōz.
“Nothing that you can’t give us.”
She stiffened. This guard’s behavior was unusually cheerful.
“Are you going to tell us?” Shāhpuhr asked. “I take it you didn’t come here simply to unfold riddles.”
Abarōz heard the flap of sandals as a man ran through the clearing. Turning, she saw her father, gripping his sword of gold.
“Rastag,” the guard nodded. “How pleasant to find you well.”
Her father’s face went pale with anger.
“Husrav,” he spat, “I wish I could say the same.”
“Relinquish your sword, Ōšmurdan, or I’ll cut your pretty wife’s throat.”
Rastag looked conflicted, but complied by dropping his blade.
“Why is she bound?” he asked. “My wife is loyal to the S̆āh.”
“A sentiment which, I fear, is not shared by you or your daughter.”
From under his helmet, Husrav’s eyes shone coldly.
“I assume,” said Rastag, “you wish to haul me back to Dardan. In exchange for my wife.”
“Clever,” Husrav grinned, “but not clever enough.”
“What then?” growled Rastag.
“A request so easy it stuns in its sheer simplicity.” Husrav pointed a steel-encased arm at Abarōz. “Your wife for the girl. This is the wish of Al-razi.”
As he spoke his master’s name, he looked up, as if he expected the S̆āh to alight from heaven.
“NEVER!” both Rastag and Shāhpuhr yelled.
“Pity,” said Husrav, “your wife’s throat is white and supple.”
He pulled down Adrina’s blouse, resting his sword on her neck.
“NO!” Rastag shouted. “Adrina may have her faults, but she doesn’t deserve this.”
Panting, he faced off against Husrav, a warning in his eyes. If Abarōz stayed silent, someone was going to die.
“Wait.” she said, her head lighter than when she’d tumbled into the forest. She waited for her eyes to clear. “I will go.”
“YOU CAN’T!” Shāhpuhr shouted.
“But I must.”
Abarōz thought of her mother, non-nurturing at the best of times. Still, Adrina had borne her, and attempted, in her way, to model a woman’s role. A mother was still a mother even if she wasn’t maternal. Rastag shuffled toward her, talking softly.
“Abarōz . . .” he said. “New god forgive me, but she is not worth your life. We know she never cared for either you or me—only dēnārs from the S̆āh.”
Abarōz nodded, acknowledging this to be true. Still . . .
“Daughter,” Adrina choked, recoiling from the blade at her throat. “Your father lies! Always have I loved you. Protected you from immodesty.” Abarōz rolled her eyes. She’d never heard such falsehoods. But Adrina went on. “I groomed you,” she pleaded, “to be an ideal wife. To master the household arts so your husband would never be wanting.”
Abarōz sighed. From her mother’s perspective, Adrina had only done right. How could her mother know, strangled by Dardan, that there was another way?
“I said I’d go,” Abarōz repeated, lifting her chin to meet Husrav’s eyes.
“Excellent!” said the guard. “Let us make a proper exchange.”
He beckoned Abarōz to him, deftly shifting his sword to her throat. Then he released her mother, pushing her roughly toward Rastag.
What Abarōz saw at that moment was Shāhpuhr’s face. He looked drawn and pale, like an Axwaš about to be sacrificed.
“No, take me too!” he cried. “How the S̆āh will reward you for an additional captive! Besides, I am his fourteenth son!”
Husrav stared at him in distaste.
“He didn’t ask for you,” the guard mumbled.
“But I escaped from his Hamwar! Surely, he wishes to punish me!”
“Shāhpuhr, stop,” hissed Abarōz. “Think of your mother.”
“Still tied to her cloak?” Husrav sneered.
“No,” said Shāhpuhr. “That is why I insist I must go.”
Husrav shrugged.
“All right. The boy may be worth more dēnārs.”
He sheared off Adrina’s bonds, transferring them to Abarōz. For assurance, he bound Shāhpuhr’s wrists before him, and collected all weapons.
“Heed me, Rastag, and let your dragon mistress know. Any attempt on your part to retrieve these two from Dardan will result in painful death.” He gave a sardonic grin. “And not just for them.”
Rastag looked disgusted as Adrina ran to him. She made a motion to embrace him, which he hastily shrugged off.
“I agree to nothing,” he spat, “but will not endanger my daughter’s life.”
“Very wise,” said Husrav. “I take these two prisoners in the S̆āh’s name, blessèd be his reign.”
“May he die by his own hand!” Rastag yelled.
“S̆āh forbid!” cried Husrav. “Have you not heard he is now the equal of the new god?”
“A god,” Abarōz gasped. She’d always suspected that was his aim.
There was no more time to think as Husrav pushed her and Shāhpuhr from the clearing into the woods.
