“Will you read some?” The words came out more gently than she’d intended. Always, it seemed, Aghraas challenged her and Maram stood her ground. For once she wanted the falconer to be off her guard, to be worried. To—

Aghraas’s eyes widened. “Read?”

“You can read, can’t you?”

“I can, Your Highness.”

Maram gestured toward the book. “Then.”

Her pulse thrummed in her fingertips.

Aghraas lifted her chin and met her eyes, and Maram had the sharp realization that she’d made a mistake. That even if she did not understand Kushaila very well, Aghraas’s performance would be affecting. And she understood enough—Aghraas spoke with the clarity of ancients, her voice high and pure, her language unadorned with modern flourishes. Maram understood enough for her cheeks to warm and her heart to beat harder in her chest. She understood enough that something inside her recognized itself and clicked into place.

“Shall I translate?” Aghraas said.

Maram couldn’t say no. It would be cowardly. It would be admitting defeat.

“Yes.”

I believe Suhayyah weeps,

And I wish I had been known to her before today.

Before she stopped all speech

And her eyes found mine, stopping me in my path.

She stood exalted over me when my staff fell,

As if she were an idol plied by devoted priests.

Your wealth is yours, and your slaves are yours.

Is your torment for me spent?

Forget my misfortune when the war party comes.

They will swarm like locusts,

They will flee with their saddles wet

with water—ridden by hawks in revolt.

We have struck a great wound in the center

and they pale as they bleed.

There was a long silence after, and Maram had the strange sensation she’d lost feeling in both of her hands. Aghraas’s eyes did not waver from her face, and so she didn’t look away either. She was surprised at the piercing feeling in her belly when Aghraas’s eyes lowered, the sharp pain that bid her take a step forward.

She heard her father’s voice. Control yourself.

And yet she took a step forward and then another and another. They were measured and unhurried, and yet they were steps, and when she stood over Aghraas she could not keep her hands to herself. She slid a hand beneath Aghraas’s chin and raised her face to look at her. Her hands didn’t shake and she moved with a surety she didn’t feel. Inside, her world had tilted on its axis.

“Why are you still here?” she asked.

Aghraas’s eyes widened. “You haven’t given me leave—”

“No,” Maram interrupted softly. She felt unmoored from herself. “Here. At my estate. With me.”

Aghraas’s hand wrapped around her wrist, and Maram fought a shudder.

“I serve at your pleasure, Your Highness,” she said. “Wherever you are, so too shall I be.”