Without the light of morning to wake her, Sam didn't rise from her bed until the day was already halfway done. She'd slept like the dead, too exhausted to even dream. It wasn't until she rubbed the sleep from her eyes that she recalled where she was and what had happened to Braeden. After clarity set in, she panicked. Why had no one bothered to wake her? She'd never forgive herself if the Arbiter had already begun Braeden's trial without her.
She barreled out of her room, right into a small woman. A servant, Sam thought, based on her simple white kirdle and the modest wimple covering her hair. She was too old to be a novice, though her age was indeterminate. Her face was smooth and without wrinkles, except for the faint lines that bracketed her mouth. "I beg your pardon," Sam said, fighting through her morning fog to find the words in Rheic. Servant or no, the poor woman had nearly been bowled over.
The woman gave her a nod of acknowledgment, but said nothing.
Sam cleared her throat. "Has the Arbiter arrived?"
The woman jolted, fear flashing across her eyes, disappearing so fast Sam thought she must have imagined it. Mutely, she shook her head.
Sam sighed with relief--too loudly, for the sound seemed to shock the small woman, who now stared at her with open curiosity. "Do you know where I might find Sister Nasrin?" The blood bond between Sam and her aunt was strained, but at least she hadn't shut out her niece entirely.
The woman's head bobbed up and down, and she pointed her index finger to the floor.
"I don't understand," said Sam. "Can you tell me where she is?"
The woman let out a little huff of frustration and jabbed her index finger downwards.
"She is on the floor below us?"
The woman shook her head again, clearly irked at Sam's lack of understanding.
Sam was irked too. "Can you just tell me?" she snapped. "I don't have time for whatever game it is you're playing."
The woman's gaze went flat, and she sauntered toward Sam in a manner far too bold for the average servant. She stopped less than an inch from Sam, and then her jaw dropped.
"Oh," Sam said faintly. Where a tongue should have been was nothing but a scarred, misshapen stump. Sam's gorge rose in her throat. Severing the tongue was a barbaric punishment, reserved for an enemy who had more value alive than dead...or meant to send a message. Execution might have been the less cruel fate.
Satisfied her point was made, the woman closed her mouth and stepped back, a single eyebrow quirked. Not the behavior of a servant--or if she was one, she hadn't been one long.
"I'm sorry," Sam said, biting the inside of her cheek to stop the burning question on the tip of her own tongue. Who did this to you and why? she wanted to know. Who are you? Instead, she added, "I didn't intend to make you feel uncomfortable."
The servant who was not a servant narrowed her gaze at Sam, and harrumphed, an odd, guttural sound. Then she made a gesture indicating Sam should follow her. Seeing no harm in doing so, Sam followed her down the long winding staircase to the first floor, through the enormous prayer hall and into the arched antechamber where Sam had first entered the convent. They passed only a few sun sisters along the way, none of them Nasrin. Not a single one offered them a word of greeting, instead eyeing them with open animosity. It was impossible to say who their animus was directed toward.
Her guide pointed again and then made a shooing motion. "Sister Nasrin is outside?" Sam guessed. The woman answered the only way she could, with a nod of her head."Thank you for your help."
The woman grunted, a sound Sam took to mean "you're welcome," before swiftly reversing her direction, ostensibly to return to her duties. Sam didn't leave until the woman disappeared from sight.
She found Nasrin taking her midday meal in the gardens, sitting in the shade of a strange tree with long, blade-like leaves that grew in rosettes around a short, stubby trunk. "Hello, niece," her aunt greeted her, her voice coolly even. But she patted the ground beside her, which Sam took as a sign of encouragement.
Dropping to the ground beside her, Sam pulled her knees into her chest, wondering what to ask her aunt first. She had so many questions she didn't know where to start. And despite their shared blood, Nasrin didn't trust her, maybe never would. She decided on, "Who is the woman who lost her tongue?" A prying question, to be sure, but an innocuous one.
Her aunt's face registered surprise. She set down her food. "You met Zahra?"
Sam lifted a shoulder. "She could have been. Whoever she was, she was unable to tell me her name. What happened to her?"
"She was punished," said Nasrin. "She was given a choice: a swift death or a lifetime to repent in silence. She chose the latter. Now she will spend the end of her days serving Emese. It's a fate better than most traitors receive." Catching Sam's shocked expression, she added, "Zahra was once the emperor's sister. She betrayed him. Our emperor has a soft heart." She sounded disapproving.
"Not so soft, to cut out his own sister's tongue."
Nasrin shot her a sideways look. "It wasn't his decision. He wanted only to confine her here, but some decisions are out of even the emperor's hands."
"Then whose decision was it?" Sam asked, fearing she knew the answer already.
"The Arbiter. When Emese's justice isn't meted out, she intervenes. Zahra told her brother's enemies his secrets. The Arbiter made sure she would never betray Rhea again."
"I see," said Sam in a small voice, blood curdling in her veins. This was the woman who would decide Braeden's fate.
"You are worried for your friend," Nasrin said, returning her attention to her food. "If he is innocent as you claim, the Arbiter will see that he is freed at the end of his trial."
Sam didn't want to know what would happen if he was found guilty. "I thought you said she would arrive today."
"She will arrive when she arrives," said Nasrin between bites of kaad, the bread that was a staple of every Rhean meal. "I am not her keeper."
"What about Braeden?" asked Sam, the calm she'd fought so hard to maintain slipping through her fingers.
Nasrin arched an eyebrow. "What of him?"
"He is to simply remain imprisoned until your Arbiter deigns to show up? May I at least go see him?"
"You may not," her aunt snapped, temper flaring in the gaze that was so like her mother's."It is by my grace alone that you are not locked in the dungeon beside him. Remember that."
Right then and there Sam decided Nasrin was the enemy. A temporary enemy, she hoped, until her aunt could be made to see reason. But she wouldn't count on it. And if she couldn't rely on Nasrin to help her, she needed to find someone else who would. An ally who didn't agree with the Arbiter's particular brand of justice. Her mind spun with possibilities.
And then Nasrin said something that made the armor around her heart crack. "I know you are angry with me, niece. I am angry too--that my beloved sister is dead, and that the aliah who killed a thousand Rheans still lives. But you are my sister's blood and mine, and I will love you as my own."
Sam swallowed, shaken. She could not afford to weaken her resolve. Still, she found herself asking, "And Kameko? Is she truly your daughter?"
Nasrin's expression softened, and Sam knew the guard hadn't lied to her. "She is," said with pride, "and already a finer swordsman than I am."
"Did she know about my mother? That you had a sister in Thule?"
A wave of sadness washed over Nasrin's face. "She knew. I wanted her to know that the Sun Sisters weren't her only family, should she choose another path. She has--had--an aunt who would love her on sight, because she was mine. And a grandfather who would claim her as his own."
Sam's whole body jerked at the revelation Nasrin had inadvertently revealed. "Our grandfather is alive?" Her mother had always spoken of him in the past tense, so she had assumed he was dead.
Nasrin grinned, looking so much like Tsalene it was uncanny. "You didn't know? The man is made of iron. He'll outlast us all." Her smile turned bitter. "He's already outlived one daughter. The gods help us all when he finds out."
Sam couldn't squelch the curiosity clawing inside her. "What is he like?"
Nasrin rubbed her chin, pondering. "He is...a power to be reckoned with, even now. He has to be, to lead an army of men less than half his age. Though he always said his headstrong daughters gave him far more trouble than his troops. If he hadn't taught us the discipline of fighting, we might have driven him mad."
"My mother hardly ever spoke of him. And when she did, she made him sound heartless."
Nasrin sighed, resting her chin on her knees. "He wasn't heartless. He loved us both in his own way. But Tsalene never wanted to leave Rhea. She had a sweetheart here, a young archer in the emperor's army who our father thought was far beneath her. I don't know if she ever forgave him for sending her across the ocean to marry another man."
"She was happy in Thule," Sam said quietly. "She and the Duke of Haywood loved each other deeply. My father will mourn her until his deathbed."
Nasrin blinked rapidly, as though fighting off tears. It was disconcerting to see the hard woman look so vulnerable. "I am glad she knew happiness, if only for a short while."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment longer, until the loud clang of a bell interrupted the peace between them. Nasrin jumped to her feet and bade Sam do the same.
"What is happening?" asked Sam.
"The Arbiter," said Nasrin in a reverent whisper. "She's here."
Barely, Sam managed to swallow the profane curse bubbling up inside her.
She didn't need to give the Arbiter another reason to convict her.
A/N: Sorry this chapter took me forever and a day. I find transition chapters the hardest to write. As always, look forward to your thoughts in the comments! Please vote if you enjoyed it.