Wishes, She Roars Read online

  The child was a boy in need of a haircut he would not receive. He had a shaggy mop of brown hair and dirt-stained skin.

  He also had at least one black eye. From my vantage point, I couldn’t get a clear view of the other side of his face, but he seemed just as wary of these men as I was.

  Fear for the child coiled in my stomach like a snake, but I wouldn’t strike—not yet.

  “Two black eyes,” one of the men said, confirming my suspicions.

  “Are you a fighter, then?” another asked as he approached the child and added, “Let’s get a look at you.”

  And the man pulled back the blanket to reveal a body that was much, much too thin.

  The boy was probably older than he appeared, I realized, but a lifetime of poor eating had kept manhood from his reach.

  “How would you like a hot meal, boy?” the man said, tossing the child’s blanket back over one boney shoulder. “And warm clothes, eh?”

  At first the boy didn’t answer. I was just as shocked as he was. Perhaps I had misjudged them, but then the man said: “If you serve the Grand Vizier, you’ll wear a uniform like us and have three meals a day, plus pay.”

  I had to swallow down a growl that tried to rip itself from my striped flank. I wondered how much being a hired thug for the holy terror paid.

  What these men were offering this child was not mercy.

  But the boy’s eyes shone, and, even from a distance, I could tell he thought this was the only gift he had ever received.

  And I watched as the men led him away, joking as if he was already one of them, and perhaps he was. Perhaps they had all been cut from the same cloth, all bred in despair, and this was where it had led them.

  A light rain had begun. And I was dead on all four paws.

  I raced through the shadows as if it were a river carrying me along. Splashing through fresh puddles but growing sluggish.

  I barely made it to another alleyway, cramped, but blissfully empty before I transformed back into a girl.

  I swayed, but caught myself on a rough wall, scuffing my palm and leaving blood in my wake.

  It was a huge risk to sneak back into the castle in my human form, but if I’d kept going much longer, there was a very real chance I’d have been stuck as a tiger until I could rest. At least I’d made it to the better side of town.

  The buildings were taller here, the cracks tighter and neater. There was almost nowhere to hide, so I had no choice but to carry on. I pressed myself against the wall closest to the street, just to peer into it.

  When lightning struck again, I saw it was not as empty as I’d hoped. There was a lone man standing under an overhang, thrusting a key on a chain into the lock of the door.

  I couldn’t hear the clink of it over the rain, but as he fought with the door, I tried to hurry in the other direction.

  Keeping to the darkest part of the street as best I could, I watched my steps closely, trying to avoid where the water gathered, even though it was almost impossible.

  I’d just released a breath, presuming without daring to look back, that I’d gone far enough to avoid being caught, when a hand wrapped around my wrist.

  Chapter 3

  No one knew where I was. That was my only thought as I schooled my face into a careful and blank expression.

  There were people on the streets I did not want to meet alone while out of beast form, and there were people who would probably hurt me because of my blood. The prospects of who I might be meeting weren’t exactly hopeful as I turned around.

  The hand gripping my wrist wasn't holding me tight enough to bruise, or to even keep me there if I truly wanted to escape. But if I decided to run, I wouldn't be getting very far in the state I was in.

  I meant to claim I was lost or looking for someone. I meant to say something, but whatever it was had died on my tongue, washed out by the rain and the look of the stranger standing in front of me now.

  It was the man from the door, he still held the key in his other hand, and he was as wet as I was.

  He was young, I realized. Hardly older than myself, and he wore the clothes of someone who seemed well enough off to buy them, but not a noble, not a courtier, and I supposed that was good. If someone had seen me, recognized me—well, nothing good could have come from that.

  But this man, hardly more than a boy with a smooth and pleasant face, may not need to sell me out to the highest bidder.

  "Miss," the young man said, hair so black it resembled the dark night, falling further into his dark eyes as we stood there. "It's no night for a stroll." His eyes fell upon the jewel-encrusted, oval-shaped amethyst amulet hanging from my neck. Still hot from the shift, it felt reassuring against my chilled skin.

  "I... I'm lost," I said at last.

  My voice was sickly sweet, the voice I'd heard many a cunning woman use to get exactly what she wanted, though I had a hard time believing it was coming from me. Still, a little honey wouldn't hurt. With any luck, this man would walk me home, and in a way, provide cover from other's with hopefully little fanfare.

  He beamed back at me, his eyes narrowing in a smiling and delighted expression that I attempted to match. It was difficult in the storm and the wind to pretend to be happy, but I gave it my best.

  "Of course," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing. "Tell me where you’re headed, and I will escort you there myself."

  Perfect.

  He was useful and handsome, but a bit too eager. Still, a couple traveling down the road together would draw far less attention than a single girl. I only needed to pull up the hood of my dark cloak, and we wouldn't even have to stick to the shadows. A small mercy, because you never knew what you would find in the dreary belly of a city. Regardless of what I had seen each time I was about, it always seemed to surprise me.

  "The palace," I said breathlessly.

  "Of course. " The man nodded. "The silk of your dress… I should have known. Shall we?"

  When he extended his arm, I looped my own around the crook of his elbow. It was nice to pretend, at least for a little while. Some days, despite the pressure from my grandfather and his court, I felt I would never marry. Everyone had their favorites, and they were all full-blooded- and half-witted men I had no interest in.

  "I thought the rain would tease us again," the man said, making conversation as he led me down the road toward the palace to the servants’ entrance. Nobles and suitors from other kingdoms traveled down the grand parkway to the palace at the end. They said the parkway was lined in gold, but, in reality, it was well-oiled bronze.

  Even then, there were guardsmen posted constantly, and if they were to see me out of the palace, and like this, they'd tell everyone they met, immediately after recovering from their heart attack that I’d surely have given them. The servants’ entrance was the ideal place to head, especially because it was harder to find. It was nothing more than a windy stone-lined path hardly two people wide. Yes, it was easier to believe I'd gotten lost looking for the way back home, than the road everyone could see clearly.

  "It does seem to miss us a lot this year," I replied without missing a step. I had made the very same observation about the weather earlier in the evening, and I wondered if it made us both dull but wasn't going to say so.

  "I'm Aladdin, by the way," the man said after a while.

  His arm was warm, even though the fabric was wet and clung to him. He was strong, but not overly muscled like the guards who did nothing but eat and work and train.

  "My uncle owns the jewelry business in the city."

  "I'm...." I stopped, I couldn't tell him my name, because I doubted there was a soul in this kingdom who didn't know of it. I was lucky most of them had never seen my face. The one thing being kept behind the walls of the castle my entire life had been good for.

  "You work for your uncle?" I asked instead.

  "It's complicated," he said, and at first I thought that was all he was going to say about it, but then he added quietly, "He has no children, and w
hen my parents died, I was sent to live with him. He's not a bad man, colder, but he's the only father I have ever known…" He trailed off at the end.

  I almost thought that I lost part of that tale to the rain, but he'd gone silent as he led me toward the small road—it was so close. I nearly lied and told him that he had taken me far enough, that he shouldn't worry about me any longer and get out of this dreadful rain. I should have, but when I finally unlocked my jaw again, those weren't the words that came out.

  "My parents are dead, too." I heard myself say.

  An awful feeling that struck my very core like a whip. I hated that truth, even now. I'd probably always hate it, and there was nothing to be done about it. Donning fur and trying to do good in this world would never be enough to erase the terrible things that had happened to me—I knew that, and yet I'd keep trying.

  Aladdin had stopped, we stood together face-to-face, but he still held my arm, and he patted it gently.

  "Then we understand each other," he said lightly, same smiling expression hanging tight to his eyes—too tight.

  I wondered who Aladdin was pretending for—me or him—but it was too personal to bring up, and it was likely I'd never see him again.

  "You should go," I said, pulling my arm away.

  I tried not to jerk, to pull it back as gently as possible, but I was so horribly unaccustomed to being touched by anyone, especially a man. In that moment, I was so thankful for the darkness, and even the terrible storm for hiding the blush I was certain had crept up my face with my quickening pulse.

  "I can make it from here." I pushed every bit of self-assurance into my voice that wanted so desperately to wobble, I couldn't completely beat it out of my tongue.

  Aladdin said nothing, and I turned to take myself a few steps to the path that would lead me back to the palace, when he grabbed my wrist again,

  My amulet heated. I knew I shouldn't use my power again so soon. I was worn out and weary, but if Aladdin had become a threat, then I would without question.

  But when I turned toward him, his face held no malice.

  "I'd like to see you again," Aladdin said, dropping my hand, but never taking his eyes off mine.

  "I..." Was there any use in telling him that would be impossible? Was it impossible? I didn't dare dream. I thought even the idea of it could kill me. I just shook my head and ran.

  He called out to me, “wait, wait,” but he didn't follow, and for that I was grateful.

  The stones here were slick and slid below my slippers. Delicate little ivory things, not practical for anything but looking nice, and now completely ruined. The stones were lined in muck, a far cry from the metal on the parkway, but I'd been through much worse, and I didn't let it stop me.

  There was one guard at the wooden gate that sat propped open to the back courtyard where the palace animals were kept. The smell from the stable, unfortunately, had not been washed away by the rain, and I could see its low roof just off the path. I held my breath as I slipped past the sleeping guard. He was sitting up in a small nook, just barely a little square to keep out the sun or the rain. I could even make out a few droplets on one of his sleeves.

  The guard didn’t stir, but, unfortunately, there were people just inside the servants’ entrance. The entire narrow hall was illuminated by endless little lights and laughter.

  I stood on the muddy stoop, wondering if I could sneak in without drawing attention to myself, or if such a thing was even possible.

  I was convinced they'd all witnessed me doing stranger things than taking a walk around the palace grounds during a monsoon. In fact, it was those sorts of oddities that were exactly my style, unfortunately.

  I'd decided to just wing it, when the door burst open even as I held on to the cool iron handle.

  "There you are," a familiar voice shrieked. "And you're filthy of course, and very, very late." It was the kind of voice that no one dared question, and no one did, not even me. Not if I was sane, anyway.

  My old nursemaid, and the mother of my best friend, completely obscured the view of my body from anyone else who might be peering at us from inside. I was certain they were all doing their best not to look. No one dared cross Mara. The noise of the room had died down, but I'd bet every last one of them were averting their gaze.

  Mara pushed me down the hall and up a small spiral staircase.

  We ran into no one—everyone it seemed was in the hall we'd just left, awake, though it was quite late already.

  The staircase ended in another corridor—narrow and unlit—I floundered until Mara lit a candle and dragged me along behind her again.

  This brought back so many memories from my childhood, most of which I did not care to relive.

  Before I dared work out how, we stood before an ominous iron-and-wooden door. The door itself held three daggers worth of iron for hinges, but it may as well have been a cage. Those who thought there was no place like home didn’t have a castle for a prison.

  Mara pushed the door open, and I could hear the old iron pivots as they creaked from the unnecessary strength she’d wielded. As if I were a child in need of reprimand. A cage, yes, set up for a princess.

  “You need to clean yourself up and see that you no longer leave the castle walls unprotected. Anyone could have seen you out there, Cyra. What would have happened if I hadn’t been in the servants’ quarters. Please, Cyra. You know better.”

  I threw myself onto my canopy bed, layered in as much silk that could feed the entire city for at least a week. I didn’t say another word but couldn't work out the cramps that had formed in my feet.

  Mara sighed. I hadn't even realized she was still in my room and told her not to bother sending her daughter with a tray for me, because I would soon be asleep, and then I was.

  Chapter 4

  I hated the sunshine. I hated the desert. It was the oppressive nature of it. Light half-blinded me as servants pulled back the thick curtains of my room. The ones that existed for the purpose of allowing me to sleep with an eastern-facing window on the side of a mountain.

  Mara clucked like a chicken from the end of my bed. Had she even left my room last night?

  But it was Imani’s face that loomed over me. “We let you sleep in as long as we could.” Her light brown hair was falling into her face in little tendrils, obscuring her hazel eyes like dark clouds.” Imani rose to her feet. “Our Sultan requires your presence at the morning meal.

  She was a petite girl, several inches shorter than me, with a more girlish figure than my own.

  Imani chose her words carefully, because there were still other servants present. She would never be so formal if it were only the two of us, but that was how it was with everyone else. Not the “old man requests,” or “your grandfather would like.” As a young woman, even a princess, my decisions were few. I wouldn’t be allowed to choose a dress for the event, it seemed. There was a mauve gown with gold trim at the edges in one of Mara’s hands, while her other hand perched sternly on one of her broad hips.

  “You need a bath,” Imani said as I engaged in a staring contest with her mother.

  I did need a bath. Dirt streaked my sheets where it had rubbed off me in the night.

  “No argument there.” I stretched and stood from my bed.

  My bath had already been drawn. Lotuses floated across its warm and glassy surface like lovely little ships.

  I was made to upset them in rolling waves as Mara unceremoniously shoved me down the steps of my bath.

  She hadn’t been my first nursemaid as a child. I'd been through several who had not been up to the task of handling me. She never let me get away with anything, and though it had been several years since needing her around the clock, apparently, she thought I was in danger of relapsing today. It was either that...or...

  I gasped as the water hit my middle.

  "It would have been warmer if you hadn't rolled around in bed so long," Imani said as she added scented oils from a tiny set of glass bottles.

  "It
's fine." But it certainly was not fine.

  My grandfather must have sent Mara to deal with me, because something was about to happen. Something I almost certainly wasn't going to like. I couldn't believe it had taken me so long to see it.

  "Mara, who else is going to be with Grandfather this morning?" My voice was sweet and pleasant as I asked the question, and then I immediately wished I could take it back.

  My tone was a dead giveaway. She knew I'd want something now, that much was certain. Old habits died harder than snakes with two heads. That was what my mother used to say.

  "You are well aware they do not go around telling the servants about all the important people taking meals with the Sultan. I don't know why you'd even bother to ask." Mara turned and fled the room, but I didn't buy that answer for a half a piece of silver. Mara knew everything that went on in the palace—that woman had eyes in the back of her head and ears in every little crack.

  It had been unnerving how she’d always known what mischief I'd been up to, even when there was no way she should have. But as a child, perhaps I just wasn't as clever as I’d thought.

  Imani watched as her mother left the room. Everyone else was gone but the two of us, and honestly, that was what I preferred.

  Now we could speak freely.

  "New suitors," Imani said. "Three of them, and all as pretty as peacocks."

  I snorted as Imani began to wash my hair with a palmful of more oil.

  "Any of them with substance?" I didn't want to marry a warm body—no, I wanted.... I wanted more, and because I couldn't have it, I wished for nothing at all.

  "If by substance, you mean piles of gold and armies of soldiers, then yes. I doubt one of them has even picked up a book in the last ten years, least of all any you would prefer."

  Imani's words were not unkind, only the truth as they always were, and I loved her for it.

  "I wish you'd read more books," she said as she finished my hair. Which was code for, “I wish you spent less time prowling the city streets with fur and sharp teeth.” Imani always worried I'd get caught and killed, and that no one would ever know what had come of me. I couldn't tell her how dreadfully close I had come to being stuck on the streets last night, and yet, I did want to tell her about the one part that hadn’t been awful—right up until the moment it was. If only he hadn't said the words… If only I could see him again.