Sabra watched Hadhi walk away with that same stiff posture she wore whenever someone had taken a bite out of her. She should go after her. But Sabra had no idea how to help. Hadhi wouldn’t trust a thing that came from her.
“What was that about?” Noam asked Kane.
Noam and Daniel were two of Azize’s closest friends and had been entertaining her with stories of all his firsts. The first time Azize tried to swim and nearly drowned. The first time he tried the dances, everyone in Maltuba had been forced to learn for tonight. The first time he saw the whales of the deep ocean. Sabra had been loving every minute. She could imagine him, so sweet and shy, exploring a world so much bigger than he. She had been so thoroughly enjoying herself that she hadn’t worried about Lin or Hadhi. Nuru would be fine on her own, there was no need to worry about her. But Hadhi worried Sabra, and she’d forgotten her again. And something Kane said had sent her off in tears.
Kane laughed. “She couldn’t get Azize’s attention. It seems to have upset her.”
“Who wants my attention?” Azize said and looked over.
Sabra’s breath caught. She couldn’t explain why. She didn’t love him the way she’d thought she did as a child. And even then, he had not been her strongest love. She just...he was a memory of a time before the world showed her its true, ugly face. She desperately needed for him to stay sweet and gentle.
But her breathlessness was all for naught. He didn’t even see her, looking at his friends instead. To be fair to him, there were two men between them, and he hadn’t seen her in five years.
“Did you know her before?” Noam asked.
Sabra wanted to blurt out Hadhi’s name and see if she could get Azize’s attention that way, but she rather thought she should be chasing after Hadhi instead.
“Not you, Kane? The girl who was sitting here, the pretty one with the scars.”
“Pretty?” Kane and Azize said in disbelieving unison.
Sabra opened her mouth to shout something in Hadhi’s defense, but before she could, the king stood. Silence fell as he took to his feet; he made no announcements, just wiped off his face, held a hand out to Jauhar, and walked from the room. Dinner, it seemed, was at an end. Azize left behind his father, most everyone was watching in silent deference, but across the table, the mystery woman still spoke in hushed enthusiasm to the man next to her. She looked...voracious. Too desperate for the knowledge she sought to notice the world moving around her.
It was really quite lovely, her enthusiasm. It reminded Sabra of her childhood and Asha’s bright face insisting Sabra join her on some quest. She missed feeling that alive. She missed seeing Asha so bright. Asha should have been here. Sabra should know by now how to speak. She was a woman grown. A mother. A widow. But she still waited for Zuberi’s permission to breathe. She waited for the back of his hand to strike or his fist to fall. She waited to be told who she was. Shouldn’t that have ended when he died?
A hand slid down before her, and Sabra glanced up; Daniel wore a bright smile as he offered to lead her from the table. But Sabra shook her head.
“I should really go check on my son,” she said softly and watched his eyes withdraw just a bit.
“Oh, are you married? I hadn’t realized.”
“Widowed,” Sabra said with a half-smile, knowing for this man it made no difference as it would not for Azize. It was the word son that had made him uncomfortable. Jauhar was wrong. Zuberi had left his mark, and no man would want her now.
He was very polite, offering to escort her, but Sabra let him go. She walked out of the room in the same direction Hadhi had taken, then turned down the first hall on her right, leading to the room where the other mothers had taken their little ones so they would not disturb the meal. She should have stayed here too. She should not have listened to Jauhar.
Across the room, she spotted her son on the ground, lifting and stirring the sand in one of the alters used for prayer. He looked so happy. Sabra felt a burning sun of peace in her heart. Lin was safe. He would never be beaten by his father for failing to be what he wanted, he would never be picked apart for his tiniest flaw. It didn’t matter that Sabra would never have the sweet romantic style of love she’d imagined as a girl, the sort of love she had was so much better.
Nuru sighed as her sister marched from the room. She’d hoped tonight would be the thing that made Hadhi better. She’d been so sad since Baba died, entirely changed. Not that she had been bright and cheerful before, but she didn’t hunt anymore; she didn’t really go anywhere unless it was to follow Nuru or Mzaa.
But tonight had seemed like the perfect chance to give her something to excite her. None of the men Azize brought home knew anything about her. But it seemed even the new men didn’t see in Hadhi what Nuru saw. Hadhi wasn’t stunningly beautiful like Mzaa, nor bright and alluring like Asha, nor even as quietly lovely as Sabra. But Hadhi was pretty, and the scars were much less pronounced now. But those weren’t the best things about her, Hadhi always tried to protect other people. Sometimes a little too much. She would take the brunt of their mother’s or their father’s criticism, so Nuru didn’t have to. She was always worried something was too dangerous for the smaller children. She protected their cousins hunting for them without telling Baba or anyone else and leaving it for them to sell, when Uncle Kafil was ill and could not provide for them. She was kind. But no one ever saw it because she was not friendly or bright or very social.
Nuru saw their uncle watching Hadhi as she left, he looked uncomfortable, but he didn’t say anything to stop her or to help her. Before Nuru could chase after her sister, the king stood, and everything else stopped. He held out a hand for Mzaa and led her from the table. After he was gone, Azize stood and escorted Faizah, who he’d been seated beside, but had not spoken to much. Nuru waited, watched as all of the prince’s friends escorted different women from the room. Watched Mzaa Sabra get up to go after Hadhi. Nuru was never sure how she felt about Sabra. She’d hated her when she first came to live with them. She and Asha had spent years teasing Hadhi, so Nuru hated her on principal. But Hadhi always forced Nuru to be polite to her. Always.
“Why are you defending her?” Nuru had shouted at Hadhi. Nuru had captured a snake to put in Sabra’s bed to scare her. Just to scare her, it wasn't venomous. But Hadhi caught her at it and wouldn't let her. “Now that they're in the house together, they'll taunt you all the time.''
"She has done nothing in the hours she's been here.'' Hadhi pointed out softly.
"She will!”
Hadhi shook her head. "That is not protecting me, Nuru. It is hurting her. Nuru... There was no celebration, no negotiation, no choice for her.” Hadhi had said so tight and quiet Nuru had to strain to hear. She looked so angry, the words had to squeeze out between her teeth.
Nuru felt Hadhi's intensity inside herself, everything balling up tight. And Hadhi saw, she released a breath and softened her words, laying a hand on Nuru's shoulder as she said her piece.
"Baba took her for his wife, without giving her a chance to say no. And her family went along with it. She is younger than I am. I heard Baba tell her she cannot see her family or Asha without him present. Sabra is not here to hurt me. Be kind to her. We are her only family now.”
Nuru hadn't liked hearing any of it. It scared her, made her angry at Sabra's family, at Baba, and unreasonably angry at Sabra. She didn't even know why; she just knew somehow it must be her fault. There must have been something she'd done because other girls were married with vibrant celebrations. Other girls had choices, didn't they?
Nuru hated it, but she did what Hadhi said. And in at least one way, Hadhi was right. Sabra had not once taunted her since she was married. Sometimes Nuru let herself believe that Baba had married her to stop her hurting Hadhi. Sometimes it even made sense.
Nuru watched Sabra walking out of the room after her sister now and felt Azize passing by, and she realized something she had not in the past. Nuru wanted being forced to marry Baba to be Sabra’s fault, because Nuru was terrified of being forced to marry someone she didn’t want. If it was because of something bad Sabra had done, then all Nuru needed to do to avoid such a fate was do as she was told. But if it wasn’t, if it was not a punishment, then it could happen to anyone. And Nuru didn’t want that someone to be her.
The room was clearing. Only a few people remained, besides Nuru, her friends urged her out to go and dance. Nuru loved to dance, but her uncle was still in the room, and Nuru’s anger on her sister’s behalf and on her own only grew.
Nuru marched over to the king’s vacated seat and took it boldly. It was not the throne after all, but she doubted anyone else would do this. Uncle Kafil raised a brow at the action, and a small smile played at the corners of his lips.
“You were always the boldest of my brother’s girls. Did he ever tell you that?” Kafil asked, nodding for Sade, the young woman he was courting, to leave them alone. Sade was only about Hadhi’s age, but Uncle Kafil needed a new wife now Aunt Lolia was gone. All his children were still younger than Nuru; he could not care for them all alone.
“No, but Hadhi tells me.”
He smiled genuinely for a moment, then looked away.
“Why will you not release our dowries?” Nuru demanded boldly.
“No one has been worthy of you, and your mourning time has barely ended. Do not take after your mother and imagine a plot. I will release your dowries when an appropriate match comes along.”
“Will you ask us?” Nuru pressed.
“Ask you what?” He looked genuinely confused.
“If we think the man is worthy. If we want to wed.” Nuru explained.
Kafil wouldn’t look at her. “Your father would not have.”
Nuru didn’t know what to say to that. Surely Baba would have given his own daughters the chance to refuse husbands. Wouldn’t he? Nuru wasn’t prepared to examine that question, so she pressed on with others.
“Why do we live in the hut? We could be helping care for our cousins if we all lived together. The mansion has room enough.”
“Then why did I live in the hut with my wife and three children, Nuru?”
“You are punishing us for things Baba did!” Nuru shouted in his face. “Hadhi is the one who fed your family when you were ill, did you know that? She would hunt in secret and leave the meat or the money at your door. She made me collect willoomi and bring them to Aunt Lolia so she would not have to leave you to do her work. You and Baba were always like Asha and Hadhi, you hated each other and I could never see a real reason why, but...we aren’t Baba. I thought you loved us.”
Nuru shoved back the seat and marched away. She wondered if things were really different in other families, or if they were all like this, but you couldn’t see through walls, so you didn’t know. She couldn’t honestly say which she hoped for because Nuru loved her family, all of them, even Asha, even Mzaa though she could be so cruel it tore into you. Nuru loved them all, and she didn’t want them to be the bad family, but nor did she want to know that all families housed such pain.
Hadhi was hiding on the shadowed walk of the veranda that ran the perimeter of the capitol palace.
You just didn’t want them to be happy without you, and no one wanted you along.
She did not like that man. Perhaps if she hid here all night, Mzaa would not find her and she could just be—
“Oh! Hadhi!” Sade exclaimed in shock. Hadhi turned in time to see the young woman’s eyes widen as if she expected to be eaten.
They had never been as close friends as Asha and Sabra were, or even Nuru and Arya, but Hadhi and Sade had been friends as young girls. So why Sade would be afraid she could not say.
“Sade,” Hadhi nodded her head softly after a moment. “Paax pzaam vay kamko io qidjiva ini.” Hadhi spoke the words in her own tongue, enjoying the familiarity of the tones and textures. And something of that comfort made her mind quicker to provide her the words in Fairy: it seems we will be family soon.
Sade nodded softly, looking away. “ Yes, evis ini.”
Hadhi heard the nerves in Sade’s voice: very soon. Hadhi stepped forward softly, smoothly trying not to startle her as Sade looked away shyly or in fear. Hadhi knew there was quite a large age difference between her uncle and the girl before her, perhaps as much as nineteen years, but she actually thought them well suited in temperament. Kafil was a gentle man, and Sade was sweet and playful, beloved by children she would be a good mother to Hadhi’s cousins.
Still, if Sade was unhappy with the match, it should not take place. Hadhi felt her heartbeat slowing as her hunting skills took over. In the back of her mind, Baba was taunting her. You know better than to worry about things you can't change, monster. You can't protect her. But—Baba was gone. Perhaps there was away. Perhaps this neighbor, this frightened girl Hadhi could help.
“Ur uli nong lala ava kup aq’alltic,” Are you not happy with the joining, Hadhi queried in a whisper, only to be greeted with peals of laughter.
“I am most pleased and honored to join with your uncle,” Sade said with a bright smile. Her eyes seeming to ask if Hadhi was insane.
Hadhi settled back, shoving away her concern. “Ta qidjiva kamko io bona vihotell.” Hadhi said easily. Our family will be those honored. It was true, and easy to say without much thought, for her mind was far from her mouth.
Was she truly so different from everyone? Was she the only one who did not long for a husband? Was she the only one wary of even a man’s touch? Hadhi glanced away. She should return to the ballroom before Mzaa came to find her.
“Szii ashuri uli ethee vozala.” Hadhi inclined her head, giving the girl the traditional felicitation for an engaged woman: I wish you great joy.
Sade shot out a hand to stop Hadhi before she could escape. “I...” Sade fumbled. “I should have tried before now to comfort you. I know you are most grieved by your father’s passing.”
Hadhi ground her teeth across one another and fought off the urge to vehemently deny any such thing. Apparently the years of only greeting one another in passing had made both women equally incapable of understanding the other. Hadhi opened her mouth to reply with the expected thanks, but Sade’s eyes teared up, and she spoke on.
“I will not lie as some do and say I cared for your father, but when you ran from the alter in sobs—my friend—Szii mbiditell paax akil szo qio.”
I felt it in my heart. Sade’s teary eyes spilled over at the words, and Hadhi could not help but be caught as well, breathless, nearly pulled into the anguish of that moment.
Hadhi could not deny that the funeral had undone her. It was forbidden to cry at funerals, whether one was born Ga’ogo, Maumai, Qi’on, Tikoo, or Bor. All five tribes believed funerals should be moments of joyous surrendering, offering souls to the hands of Ether. Crying was said to rouse unhappy spirits but— As much as she had expected to be joyful as her father departed her life forever, there had been no joy in Hadhi that day. Just anguish. But not so now. And Hadhi had no idea how to express that without revealing the entire ugly truth. There might not be joy in Hadhi still, but there was no grief either. Only hate.
“Let me offer you, szo centok gzaijivi kif ulin bao.” Sade finished, taking Hadhi’s hand and squeezing as fervently as she spoke: my deep sympathy for your pain. Hadhi couldn’t think what to do but to squeeze the girl back. Offering a small smile of gratitude. What else was there to do?
Despite her own inner struggles, Hadhi was pleased to have her earlier feelings affirmed. Her uncle had made a most excellent selection for his new bride. Sade had a good heart. Hadhi was saved having to lie about her father, spotting her mother’s approach from the corner of her eye. She nodded that way and let it be an excuse not to speak. No one expected the monster to speak anyway.
Sabra looked up from her son’s head; Jauhar had found her, and apparently Hadhi as well. Hadhi stood in the doorway as Jauhar marched across the room. When she was towering above Sabra Jauhar launched into a quiet lecture.
“You are all of twenty, you cannot spend the rest of your life at my side, wasting away. You will enter that great room and attempt to catch a man’s attention, if not for yourself, then for your son. Lin needs a father, and if you don’t provide him one, Kafil will do it.”
Sabra stiffened. She much preferred Kafil to his brother, but since his brother’s death, Kafil had seemed harder. And Sabra had no interest in being forced to wed—again. She pulled Lin nearer her chest; she didn’t want him exposed to anyone who was not kind.
Another young mother, Bayo, had overheard the entire conversation and moved nearer.
“Sabra, you should do as Jauhar says,” Bayo said softly.
Sabra was nodding; she knew they were right. Past Jauhar, she watched Hadhi, so angry, so hurt, tattered by her parents. She could not allow the same to happen to Lin.
“I do not like leaving him alone so long,” Sabra said, even as she was preparing to lay her son back on the ground beside the sand circles to play.
“Then do not,” Bayo suggested. “I will bring Wema and we shall play in one of the alcoves along the balcony. When you want to dance or talk he will stay with us.”
“Or leave his with his Mzaa Jauhar,” Jauhar said coolly, casting Bayo a dirty look. She had allowed the interference because the woman agreed with her, but she liked control.
“Alright,” Sabra agreed and followed them from the room. As she fell into step beside Hadhi Sabra whispered softly. “Are you alright, Hadhi? What did that man say to upset you?”
“Hadhi is fine,” Jauhar snapped. “She is going to stand with us, wearing a smile and attempt to entertain Azize’s friends, and Azize himself if the opportunity presents itself. As she should have been at dinner.”
“I tried,” Hadhi said flatly. “He was only interested in that stranger in blue and gold.”
“Oh yes!” Bayo said like she was part of the conversation when Sabra was certain most everyone had forgotten her presence. “I haven’t seen her yet, but all the other mothers are agog. No one knows who she is, but they say she is the most beautiful, most vivacious woman here.”
Jauhar made a hum like she was about to speak, but Bayo being not as familiar with Jauhar as other women, didn’t pay it any mind and kept right on speaking, with her daughter gumming at one of her fingers and her eyes alight for all the attention she was being afforded.
“I said it must be Asha in disguise. Everyone knows she is the most desirable woman in Maltuba.”
“Clearly that is not the case.” Jauhar snapped. “That woman is not my husband’s daughter.”
“Oh, no. Clearly not; it was a jest.”
“You had bet—
“It is lucky for the woman that she is not Asha, or the prince would have thrown her out.” Hadhi interrupted her mother loudly. Hadhi seemed to be trying to save the woman from a severe tongue lashing.
“Oh, is...that why she didn’t come?” Bayo asked Hadhi hesitantly.
Hadhi didn’t respond. They had reached the ballroom. Hadhi scanned the room before starting forward. Sabra hadn’t spent much time with Hadhi at celebrations of this nature. Hadhi tended to keep to the perimeter when she was able. Sabra watched her move now and was a bit jealous. Hadhi moved with such grace. Her feet were silent and her movements smooth. Not once, despite the crowd, did she falter or brush another being. She could move through the crowd entirely untouched. She was lovely, like a large cat prowling through the grasses or across tree branches.
“Speaking of that woman,” Jauhar said in a low whisper. “I saw her speak to you, Sabra. What did she say?”
A good family would want adventure for you.
“She wanted to know about the men. So I...pointed her away from Prince Azize.” Sabra said because Jauhar would want to hear it.
Bayo tittered, and Jauhar nodded pleased, but it was Hadhi’s graceful back that drew Sabra’s eye. Hadhi was so aware, so much herself, in all situations.
“Good,” Jauhar remarked. “She can have all the men she wishes, but not Azize.”
Hadhi rolled her shoulders. A casual move to the unaware observer, but Sabra was near enough to feel her tension. Hadhi was preparing herself to try again to attract attention she knew she could not get.
It really was silly to be jealous of Hadhi. Sabra knew that. After all the person with the least understanding of Hadhi’s value, of her talents, her appeal, and her beauty, was Hadhi herself.
Jauhar stopped suddenly, and though she was walking before them, Hadhi stopped as well, and her body swayed slightly. She was listening to the room around them with her whole being. Sabra wondered if she could convince Hadhi to teach her to hunt. Hadhi was a great hunter. She hadn’t really done any since her father died, and Jauhar allowed it, because it was a sign of grief, honoring what Hadhi had once done at her father’s side. But it was over a year since his death now. Perhaps she was ready to start hunting again. Perhaps she would teach Sabra, so that Sabra and Lin could care for themselves. So that she need not find another man and tie herself to him. So she could make it the forty miles south on her own and go live with the Bor, where a woman and child alone was accepted.
“There is a fine place for you to play with the children, Bayo,” Jauhar said, and without so much as a brow raised in question, reached out for Lin.
Sabra allowed her to take her son, mostly to avoid a scene, and watched as he was handed into the arms of this woman that Sabra saw as a little girl despite their mere one year of age difference. Bayo was allowed to be a little girl still. She was the second wife of a kind man. He was a tanner, and she spun silk from the swirrle worms, and her husband’s other wife kept the house. They were a quiet, happy family. Bayo knew nothing of the darker side of marriage. She wouldn’t understand how another wife could be both your greatest ally and at times your enemy. She couldn’t understand what it was to be owned by your husband, rather than treasured. And she most certainly couldn’t understand what a threat an unloving world was to her child. For surely, at some time Hadhi must have been as happy and soft, and innocent as these babes, but not so now.
Sabra’s eyes were drawn once more to Hadhi standing vigilant before them, stiff and scarred, and far from innocent now. Sabra needed to get her son away from this family. She needed to get him a family like Bayo had, a family where he could remain sweet.