Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 84026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Dark amusement lit his swarthy face. “Perhaps not an entirely empty head if you’ve begun to lie. Even if you do it poorly.” He considered me momentarily, his eyes moving from my face to my bosom, down to my feet and back up again. He grunted as if acknowledging a realization that had very suddenly crossed his mind. “You’ve grown up quite nicely, haven’t you?” He stroked his mustache again, his groin lifting very slightly out of his chair and sending a bolt of fear down my spine.
As he watched me, I pictured his thoughts like acrid smoke, weaving mysteriously through the caverns of his mind, snuffing out any light that might lie within. I had gone to his office in an attempt to defend Ahmad, and instead, I had the sudden inkling that not only had I not done that, but I’d cast myself under some spotlight I didn’t completely comprehend. “Perhaps,” he said after a moment, “there are other places where your beauty and services might garner more . . . praise. But the customers don’t come to Sundara for that. They’re here for a sideshow and so your act must stay as it is.” Sideshow? I hadn’t heard that word before and my hand itched to write it in my notebook. His palm smacked down on the desk as a form of finality. “Leave.”
I scuttled away like the cockroach I’d just thought him, a newfound disdain with myself for the weakness I’d displayed. Zakai might have been unsuccessful too, but he’d rage like a barely-contained storm, and then stalk from Haziq’s presence with his head held high.
I stopped, wrinkling my nose, wondering if Zakai’s scent was suddenly in my nose because I’d been thinking of him, or whether he remained on my skin more strongly than usual.
I looked around but he was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he’d recently passed this way. With a final glance over my shoulder, I headed for the courtyard where Ahmad awaited me.
When I arrived, the little man was sitting on the bench we always sat upon for our lessons, Bibi at his side. Ahmad was reaching behind him to pull forth the books hidden under the wild cucumber plant, and when he turned back and caught sight of me, he smiled.
I rushed to him, kissing him on his cheek and taking Bibi in my arms as the monkey jabbered and cooed.
I set Bibi down so he could go in search of insects and Ahmad handed me a book. I glanced at him. “You look well today.”
“Compared to who?”
I let out a small laugh. “Compared to yourself several days ago.”
His expression tightened and he nodded to the book. “Read,” he instructed.
“I went to Haziq on your behalf this morning,” I said in a rush of words.
Ahmad’s gaze flew to mine. “You did what?”
I set the book down, turning to him. “I can’t bear to see you hurt anymore,” I said. “I had to try to do something. I don’t think it worked but—”
“So you put a target on my back?” he asked angrily, standing and pacing in front of me.
My face drained of blood and something thick filled my throat. I swallowed around it, going to my knees in front of him and reaching for his hands. “It’s not right. None of us like what happens here, but to be hurt! To let them watch it!” I shook my head with pain and disgust. “I had to try. I had to try to make it stop for you!”
Ahmad stared at me for so long I wondered if he would speak. “We’re all being hurt, Karys, just in different ways.”
The lump returned and again I swallowed. Perhaps Ahmad didn’t know of my love for Zakai. Perhaps he didn’t see the affection Bertha had for Spider. Perhaps he thought what was happening to him was happening to us all.
Ahmad’s expression softened, his eyes filled with a tenderness I’d only seen when he gazed at Bibi, and he squeezed my hands before returning to sit on the bench. I sat down beside him and we turned toward each other. “I shouldn’t have said what I did about your softness being a weakness.” He shook his head, his curls bouncing around his jaw. “I’m not angry. In truth? You remind me of my mother. Or at least . . . who my mother might have been when she was a girl.” He gazed out to the desert. “Tenderhearted. A dreamer.” When he looked at me again, the affection in his eyes had deepened. “Those are all assets. In a world where everything feels jagged, and there are too many sharp things to get snagged upon and torn wide open, your softness is a gift. Someday you won’t feel as if it is, but trust me when I say there are too few like you.”