“Look at this,” a voice whispered. It was a voice like broken glass. “The queen of the beggars went for a walk.”
Zainab froze. “Aminah?”
Her sister invaded her personal space; the scent of expensive rosewater was cloying and suffocating. “You look pathetic, Zainab. Really. To think you’ve traded a mansion for a mud hut and a man who smells like a sewer.”
“I’m happy,” Zainab said, her voice trembling but confident. “He treats me like I’m made of gold. Something our father never understood.”
Aminah laughed, a high-pitched, sharp laugh that startled a nearby crow. “Gold? Oh, you poor, naive blind fool. Do you think he’s a beggar because he’s poor? Do you think this is a tragic romance?”
Aminah leaned closer, his hot breath against Zainab’s ear. “He’s not a beggar, Zainab. He’s penance. He’s the man who lost everything on a bet he couldn’t win. He doesn’t stay with you out of love. He stays with you because he’s hiding. He uses your blindness as a cloak.”
The world fell silent. The sounds of birds, water, wind… all faded away, replaced by a roar in Zainab’s ears. She staggered backward, her cane striking a root, nearly collapsing.
For full cooking instructions, go to the next page or click the Open (>) button and don’t forget to SHARE it with your friends on Facebook.
Leave a Comment