Gifting Fire, Alina Boyden [books to read for self improvement .txt] 📗

fire zahhaks we have. And I saw Tamara’s ice zahhaks in the sky—they knocked down the messengers—but I have no idea where she is.”

“You’ll have every Zindhi flier in Kadiro, if that’s what you need, your highness,” Hina assured me.

“It may come to that,” I allowed, because I wasn’t sure how else I was going to get Lakshmi back.

“We’ll get our zahhaks, then.” Hina nodded to her celas, and the sixteen of them hurried to the stables to mount up, leaving me with Sunil and Sanghar and their soldiers. I didn’t have the slightest idea where my Nizami guardsmen were now, though I supposed I could probably get a couple of Zindhis to handle the thunder zahhaks in an emergency.

Sultana twisted her neck skyward, and I followed her emerald eye with my own, straining to see what she’d spotted. Shadows coming toward us from the sky, their white-speckled undersides leaving me in no doubt as to their identity. Evidently, Sultana wasn’t in any doubt either, because she set off at a gallop toward the far end of the courtyard where the ice zahhaks were alighting on one of the paved paths, running off their momentum with their rear legs before settling onto their wing claws.

One of the ice zahhaks turned her massive blue beak in our direction, her glacial eyes a perfect match with those of her rider. She leapt right at us, and it would have been terribly intimidating, what with her crest of white and black feathers, and the thick black ruff at the base of her neck for warmth, resembling the mane of a lion, but I knew better than to be frightened of Natia, and so did Sultana.

“Shall we dismount before they kill us both?” Natia’s rider asked as our zahhaks danced around each other like a pair of overeager puppies.

“That would probably be for the best,” I agreed, unable to contain a smile in spite of everything. My heart was fluttering almost harder than it had been when I’d been fighting. That had been life or death, but I found that the pain that relationships brought was equal to the sting of any sword. I hadn’t seen Princess Tamara in seven years. I wondered what she would think of me now, knowing that I’d spent most of that time as a courtesan.

I slid from the saddle, landing hard on the paving stones, drawing myself up to my full height, and taking a deep breath. Just half a dozen paces away, Tamara had done the same thing. She was as dashing as I remembered her. I’d idolized her growing up, and it wasn’t hard to see why. She wore her gold-trimmed green peshwaz like she was born to it, with a golden undergown that billowed out like the skirt of a lehenga, giving her a grace and a beauty that told the whole world she was a princess. But the khanjali thrust through the golden sash around her waist was proof that she was a warrior too, as were the flying goggles that now rested on her oversized fur hat, which must have been impossibly hot here in Zindh but was proof that she’d flown without pause, down from the mountains of Khevsuria, all the way here.

She was paler than I remembered, a real Firangi, though I’d gotten so used to living in Safavia that it seemed starker now after so long away. The same was true of her red hair, a brilliant copper color, not like the subtle mahoganies I saw so often in Daryastan. Her icy blue eyes were drinking in every detail of me too, and I supposed that was only fair. I’d changed more in the last seven years than she had. Of course, I wasn’t exactly dressed like a princess in my sweat-soaked shalwar kameez, my face and hands blackened with gunpowder.

Tamara strode forward, crossing the distance separating us so quickly that it took me a little by surprise. I didn’t know what she was doing, not until she wrapped her arms around me and held me tightly to her. “You’re even more beautiful than I imagined you would be. It’s no wonder you’re having to use cannons to fight off your suitors.”

I hugged her back, overjoyed that she didn’t hate me for being what I was. “I thought you would come if I asked, but I wasn’t sure . . .”

“Of course we came,” she replied, her fingers tensing against my back. “Safavia isn’t close, but it’s not the other side of the world. We heard everything through Shah Ismail’s network of spies, and Haider and I spoke of trying to find some way to help you. Then your letters arrived, and we jumped at the chance.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. “If you hadn’t come . . .”

“You’d have found some other way to free yourself, I suspect,” she said, patting my cheek. “But we did come. And we’re here for whatever you need.”

“Haider too?” I asked, glancing around, not seeing any sign of him.

“He’s on his way. I expect he’ll arrive shortly.” She gestured back to the other Khevsurian woman riding an ice zahhak. “Do you remember my bodyguard, Ketevani?”

“Yes, of course.” I nodded to the older woman, a bit embarrassed at having shown so much emotion. I was supposed to be a provincial ruler, not a child. “Thank you for your assistance. As soon as matters with Mahisagar are settled, I’ll see to it that you are suitably rewarded for your efforts.”

The Khevsurian woman wrinkled her pale nose and gave a toss of her head. “Child,” she said, in Court Safavian, “I protected you when you were no taller than a newly hatched zahhak. You think I need rewards now?”

“You deserve them, Ketevani,” I told her, remembering how much nicer she’d been to me than Sikander, though I supposed even that old man had now shown he could come around eventually. “For then and for today.”

“Well, let’s worry about that once Karim and his father are dead,” Tamara suggested, with such fervor in her voice