The Theft of Sunlight, Intisar Khanani [best book club books for discussion txt] 📗

Dedication

For every girl who chooses the hard road

and uses the fire in her heart to light the way.

Map

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Dedication

Map

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Books by Intisar Khanani

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Copyright

About the Publisher

Chapter

1

There’s a mangy dog crouched beneath the second-to-last vegetable cart. As a rule, I avoid mangy dogs. Especially ones with bloodshot eyes and a clearly infected paw. But this is a sad-looking creature, its narrow face streaked with mud and its coat thinned to almost nothing over its ribs, skin scaly and pink beneath the grime.

“Something wrong?” Ani asks as she switches her brightly woven market basket to her other arm. At her side, her little sister, Seri, dips a booted toe into a puddle left from this morning’s spring rains. The crowd around us shifts and moves, a sea of brown faces and bright clothing filling the wide town square to brimming. For a moment I lose sight of the dog as a group of older women push past, skirts flapping around sturdy boots.

“No,” I say, turning to my friend. “I’m just wondering where Bean is. Have you seen her, Seri?”

Seri looks up, twin black braids swinging. “Oh yes! She’s across by the horses. Should I go get her?”

“Yes, please.”

Seri grins and scampers away after my own little sister.

“Seri! Watch where you’re going!” Ani calls helplessly.

“She’s quick,” I assure her. There’s not much harm a six-year-old can come to at Sheltershorn’s market day; for all the crowd of shoppers, almost everyone knows one another, and no one would be so stupid as to come galloping through on a horse. In truth, the biggest danger here would be the mucky puddles, and I’m pretty sure Seri loves running through those.

“Do you need anything else?” Ani asks, glancing into her basket. “Mama wanted me to find radishes, but I haven’t seen any.”

“Might still be too early,” I observe. “They should have them next week. Ours are only just starting to mature.”

Our home may be a horse farm, but Mama and my middle sister, Niya, make sure we have a few beds of greens and vegetables, and our early spring greens are growing strong this year. Really, the only reason we’re here at the first big market day of the spring is to catch up with our friends.

Ani and I are still chatting by the cart when Seri comes racing back, dragging the much taller Bean by the hand. “I found her!”

“I was busy,” Bean protests, nearly tripping as she jerks to a stop before us. At fourteen, she’s like a young colt unused to the way of her limbs, still awkward and liable to knock things over, including herself. “Couldn’t it have waited, Rae?”

I pretend to consider this. “But there’s someone under the cart there I thought you might be able to help.”

“Someone—?” Bean echoes at the same time that Ani swivels around to look under the cart.

“That thing is—it’s diseased!” Ani exclaims, reaching to grab Seri before she can dart closer for a look. “You can’t mean for Bean to approach it?”

“Bean has a way with animals,” I say serenely. Even mangy, red-eyed creatures that could scare away grown men.

“Oh, you poor baby,” Bean croons, squatting beside us. The dog looks over and wags its scruffy tail once, proving my point.

“Come on out, sweet baby.” Bean holds out an inviting hand. “We’ll get you cleaned up and then no one”—she spares Ani a hard look—“can call you mean names. And maybe my sister Niya can take care of your paw. She’s very good with cuts. And I know a thing or two about them as well.”

The dog, lured by Bean’s innate kindness, creeps out from under the cart and sits at her feet, earning a series of exclamations from the adults around us.

“Eh, Rae-girl!” the vegetable woman cries, her long silver earrings swinging. She’s known us since we were born, and isn’t the least surprised to see Bean with a bedraggled stray. “Take that creature away now. I can’t have it by my food.”

“Of course, auntie,” I say, dipping my chin in respect. “Bean, do you think the dog can make it to our cart? You know where Mama left it.”

“Sure she can,” Bean says, one hand buried in the patchy bit of fur about the dog’s neck, scratching vigorously. I wince.

“Just . . . make sure to wash your hands afterward, all right?”

Bean casts me a disgusted look and rises to her feet. “Come on, little lady. You can ride in our cart, and we’ll get you all cleaned up at home.”

“You aren’t actually taking that creature home?” Ani breathes. Even she doesn’t dare say such a thing loud enough for Bean to hear.

“Of course she is,” Seri asserts, her eyes shining with adoration.

“Someone has to take care of it,” I say as the dog limps off beside my sister. “She’ll fit right in with all of Bean’s other reclamation projects. You’ll see, Mama won’t even say a word.”

But Ani’s not listening anymore. Seri’s run ahead to catch up with Bean and the dog. Ani calls after her, “Seri—you may watch only! No touching! Bean, see that she doesn’t!”

I suppress a grin and walk on, knowing that Bean will make sure Seri stays safe around the dog. When Ani quits yelling, I point out the final cart in the marketplace. “Good news! I’ve found your radishes.”

Ani’s face lights up, and she happily sets to bargaining for them. I wander a little farther on, coming to a stop where the road leaves the square. It’s a bright beautiful day, the tall adobe buildings bathed in sunlight, the great wood timbers that strengthen each floor throwing