Hadhi could not understand why she was so comfortable talking to this child. Lifelong secrets were just spilling out of her. And she could barely move, not from the girl’s most recent question, but from again and again, why shouldn’t you be happy? As if it were so simple. As if it were merely a choice she had made. As if the monster within would let her be anything as precious as happy. Well, maybe it would. It let Zuberi be happy, but he had reveled in the darkness, and Hadhi would not.
When Noam had asked her to return with him to her family, Hadhi told him she could not and slipped away. The truth was she felt so different inside, so much better. She did not want to go near Mzaa and Asha and have them peck away at anything lovely inside of her. She had walked down this hall thinking exactly the same question this girl kept asking her: why shouldn’t she be happy?
What truly should stop her from embracing, not what was most efficient for her family, but what would make her the happiest? They might never be rich nor powerful enough to force Uncle Kafil to release their dowries. But they could be happy. She could live with Noam; they could have a tiny hut, just one room to share for sleeping, with all their cooking and bathing done out of doors. Perhaps Noam was used to nicer things, but Hadhi could provide for them. She had not been able to hunt since they got word of Baba’s death. But she could now. It need not feel ugly or like a show of her power. It would just be a necessity, providing for those she loved. She might even make them rich at it. And Azize was his friend; he might convince Uncle Kafil to be kind to the other girls simply because he cared for Noam’s happiness.
Why was she allowing Mzaa’s plans to rule her the same way she had Baba’s?
But Hadhi was getting ahead of herself. Far ahead. Racing into fantasy, which was nothing like her. Noam liked her, perhaps even desired her, but that did not mean he wanted to share his life with her. He barely knew her; he knew nothing of the monster. She had only hinted at the tiniest of her sins. He was too fine for her. Yet she wanted to—surrender to all that was beautiful in the world and dance into his arms, follow where he went, because every turn he made was so lovely. Every turn Noam made, made Hadhi feel safer.
Hadhi could be happy—with Noam. But could he be happy with her? It seemed like even when she wanted to surrender some part of her could not let go. She had been on the verge of going to him, having the time with him, even if it was not alone, then this little girl appeared, and something in Hadhi just had to help her.
She always had a soft spot for scared little girls, but there was something different about her. Something that felt like, if Hadhi helped her, she could salvage a bit of her soul from the monster’s clutches.
Perhaps it was because she remembered sobbing in a corner after Asha had made her think she wanted her along to play, when all she wanted was someone to blame for her mischief. Or perhaps she reminded her of Nuru— or Kiho.
Hadhi shuddered, biting her tongue, the pain reminding her she was in the here and now. She heard Asha’s laughter from the ballroom and glanced over her shoulder. With the rest of the room, Hadhi watched her half-sister dancing with Noam. Running her hand up his arm like he were hers. Gazing into his eyes flirtatiously Why? Hadhi cringed, wanting to bellow, wanting to rush into the ballroom and physically shove her sister away. Why did Asha always feel the need to best Hadhi? It was so easily done there could not be much joy in it. Here Hadhi had been talking about her regrets over their strained relationship and Asha was off in another room trying to remind Hadhi and the rest of the world with her that no one was as desirable as her, that there was nothing and no one she couldn’t have.
“Want is for girls like Asha,” Hadhi snapped. She turned back to the girl, yanking two strings of beads from her own throat. Forcing calm Hadhi wound the beads together around the girl’s bald head. Tying it firmly at the base of her skull Hadhi leaned back and admired her work. “You look like the princess you long to be.”
“But...” The girl’s face dropped, looking down at her finery and back up at Hadhi with wide wet eyes. “I am only a child. He will ignore me.”
“If the slipper fit, he owes you a dance. Be like Asha,” Hadhi said bitterly. “She would never stand for being ignored. Go to the prince and demand your due.”
“She wouldn’t, would she?” Slowly the child’s lips grew into a dazzling gap-toothed smile.
Hadhi had no idea why this child thought she needed to win Azize, but she knew enough of the prince to know the girl was safe with him. So Hadhi played along, trying to help her feel special. The girl tilted her head to the side, examining Hadhi.
“Why shouldn’t you be happy?” She asked for a third time. “If you want to be.”
Hadhi shook her head; this was the oddest conversation. “Go find the prince and demand a dance.”
“Don’t you want to dance with him?”
“I can wait.”
“And she will not wait alone.” A deep jovial voice startled Hadhi and had her stomach dropping so far, so fast she thought she might vomit the bit of food she’d only just consumed.
How had she failed to feel him approaching? To feel him watching?
“Your Majesty.” The little girl sunk at the knees, smiling sweetly for the king as he emerged from behind a column at Hadhi’s back.
Hadhi stood slowly, forcing her rage down. She faced the king, pushing the girl behind her as subtly as she could. When he only stared at her, Hadhi remembered herself and curtseyed, grinding her teeth.
There were two men in the world she held in absolute hatred—well, only one now, and he stood before her. It was easier to think of him only as the king when there were others around him. But alone, with that knowing smile on his lips, Hadhi saw her father’s friend. Another who took delight in evil.
“Run along and find the prince, child. I will keep Hadhi company.” King Enzi said his words laden with interest.
The child, apparently oblivious to the evil before her, nodded happily and ran away. Hadhi wanted the king far away from this little girl but...she did not want him near herself either. She curled her fingers into fists to keep from reaching out to stop the child, just so she would not have to be alone with this man.
“Your father would be truly surprised to see the woman you’ve grown into, Hadhi,” the king smiled, and his eyes roved over her leaving a wake of slime.
“Good,” Hadhi snapped impolitely. The king’s gaze shot back to her with wide amused eyes.
“I have not said if it would be a pleasant surprise,” he commented.
“I do not care.” Hadhi snarled, wanting to offend him. Wanting to be away. He might cast her entire family out over her rudeness. But it was all she could do to resist grabbing the ornamental sword at his waist and cutting him open, leaving him bleeding on the ground, so the only evil thing left in Maltuba was her. She could do it too, with Kiho so fresh in her mind. It would be an easy kill; the king was so sure of his own importance, his own safety.
You have to know your moment.
Hadhi hated agreeing with her father’s echo, but here, in the palace, she would be caught. She could not walk away hollowly, with his blood on her hands, and bring home a dead animal to cover the sin. Here she would die for her evil. And her family must suffer as well.
So Hadhi struck out with her words, “I never earned his approval while he lived. Why should I care to when he is dead? I am only pleased that not all his goals will be met.”
King Enzi threw back his head and laughed. He was not a quiet man, had no reason to be. All conversation in the ballroom fell away as people strained to see who had amused their king.
His laughter slowly receded and he reached out a hand, sliding it from Hadhi’s scarred shoulder to her wrist. Her body wanted to shiver in revulsion wanted to flee, but Hadhi held herself stiff by force of will. He enjoyed fear.
“Come, Hadhi, dance with your king. I will tell you all the ways you have disappointed Zuberi’s hopes.”
A scream of absolute hatred shredded Hadhi’s insides and the monster within fought to lunge for that sword. But every eye was on her. She could no more kill him than she could refuse him. She felt the stares, some of hatred, some of jealousy, but out there in the midst of everything, she felt warmth and concern.
She felt Noam.
Hadhi let her eyes find Noam; he stood with her family, Asha, Nuru, Sabra, and Mzaa all watched her. Everyone was watching. Mzaa looked excited beyond her wildest dreams.
But as Hadhi took the king’s hand and walked stiffly into the ballroom, her eyes were all for Noam. She wanted to run to him, and flee this place, forever. But the monster wanted to pounce on Noam and rip him apart. This was all his fault.
For as long as she had known what King Enzi was, Hadhi had rejoiced that she never caught his notice. Now she was on his arm, with her skin crawling and her entire being clambering to hide or to kill. And it was all Noam’s fault. For making her forget, for making her want to be noticed. For making her, for however brief a time, desirable to the world.
She could see Noam was realizing what he had done and regretting it.
“Your father expected you to be married by now, Hadhi. Is that sour face tripping you up?” The king wanted to draw blood; clearly he knew that name bothered her. He wanted her angry, and what made Hadhi angrier than she could control was that he was getting what he wanted. “Some men do not mind a sour-face.”
“Some prefer a cowering one,” Hadhi whispered darkly.
The king examined Hadhi in a way that made her want to rip off her own skin. Why had she said that? There was one edict her father had made that she followed without question, to never let the king know what she had seen, to never even hint at it. And now he might guess. She wanted to kill him. As she had wanted to on that day. If only Baba had not stopped her, everything would be different.
When she was about ten, Hadhi followed Baba when he left the house one morning without Asha. He rarely left Asha at home anymore. Hadhi thought this must be her chance, to be loved as her sister was, to share a bond with her father.
Hadhi had tried so hard over the years to forget that day, to put it behind her. She felt so sure if she could only forget, then she would be happy, and beautiful, and anything other than what she was. But there was no forgetting.
She had followed. Wanted to be loved, like Asha, wanted her father to want her company as he did his best beloved That day should have put an end to such desires. Maybe it had for a while, but the monster was growing within, and the monster always wanted love.
“Just what did you mean by that, Hadhi?” the king asked, drawing her back into the present.
Hadhi tried to find someone in the crowd to latch onto. But Noam had his back to her and Hadhi refused to look at Nuru while she was in this man’s arms. If she did, she would have to kill him, no matter the consequences. She would not let him touch her sister.
That day— She could not get it out of her head!
Father had gone to Ahon’s house; everyone knew who he was, the man who spoke out against the king. Hadhi followed at a distance, but half way there she knew where they were going. She had not fully understood why, but she knew it was for trouble. As soon as the king and his guards joined father, she knew.
Still, some part of her had been shocked, horrified to see her father shove Ahon’s wife into their home, kicking her aside so he and the guard could enter. Hadhi knew she did not want to be there, but she could not move. She crouched on the ground and waited, silently begging her father to come out of the house for everyone to be well.
Then she heard the screams. Cries for help, for someone to stop. It was a child's voice. A little girl's. Hadhi was up and racing for the house before she even realized—
“Hadhi,” King Enzi shook her a little. Hadhi was so tangled in her memories and her revulsion at this man, she could not help the small jerk to get out of his arms. He chuckled and tightened his hold, drawing Hadhi closer. “Sour-faced-Hadhi, your father’s girl after all, are you?” Hadhi cringed internally, too lost in her memories to be her stoic self.
“Sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”
“I would like to return to my mother,” Hadhi said in a small voice and hated herself. Why should she, the monster, escape this man when Kiho had not?
“Show more spine, Hadhi,” the king instructed, dismissive of her fears. “That’s what earned you the attention of your king.”
“I do not want your attention.” Hadhi was shaking inside, from the guilt, from fear, from holding back the monster. She would give anything to kill this man.
“Not yet.” Baba chuckled.
Hadhi did not remember how she had gotten into the house, or how Baba came to catch her before she reached the king with her rock in hand. A ll she remembered was that evil man, hurting that tiny girl. She wanted to kill him; she wanted to strike him as hard as she could, over and over. But her father had lifted her into the air, carried her away, before the king even realized she was there. He dragged her outside, yanking the rock from her hands as she began to beat her father with it, trying to be free. She still heard the screaming.
Her father just chuckled. “You’re a little monster, aren't you? Baba’s monster.” He carried her away from the house to a clump of trees and put her on the ground, holding her in place by the shoulders when she made to run around him.
“You have to stop him!” Hadhi shouted, trying to shake free.
“He’ll only do the same to you, Hadhi. Is that what you want?” That stopped her. Froze her inside and out. How she wished that had not stopped her. “You’ll be my monster, Hadhi. And you’ll have your chance at vengeance. But not yet. You have to know your moment. Now run home, and never speak of this again.”
He just turned around and walked back into Ahon’s house, trusting she would do as he said. But she could not. Could not move. Not to run away, not to help. She just stood there, hearing the screams and hating her father and the king, and most of all herself
He was right. She was a monster. Only a monster would just stand there, crying and wanting to die, or to kill, but doing nothing.
Whatever she got now was no less than she deserved.
“Do you know, Hadhi.” The king’s breath threatened her neck. “I wonder now if he wasn’t hiding you from me. Zuberi would know the pull of a woman like you.”
Hadhi cringed, and in her mind, she saw her father again, telling her to run home, telling her never to speak of it. Yes, he had been hiding her. Hiding them all. And how did she thank him?
“Come, Hadhi, where’s that voice? You have my attention; that is power. Use it.”
“I only want Azize,” Hadhi lied. She did not want anyone ever who reminded her of her father, or the king, or the monster. Did not even want Noam. She did not want to be touched or looked at. Or to exist. Right now, all she wanted was death. Death for all the evil things in Maltuba.
The king scoffed, “he’s for Asha. You know that. You’re a bit of a distraction, and his notice of you will goad her to work for his attention. Their marriage has long been a plan of mine and your father’s. You must know Zuberi never wanted power for you. If disappointing him is what you are after,” he whispered through a twisted smile. “I am your only hope.”