Read Online Sultana by Lisa J. Yarde - Free Book Online

reaching the room where she had seen her grandmother. Did the lady Saliha remain alive? If she had the gift of prophecy, had she already guessed her daughter was dead?
    Ibrahim brought her down two flights of stairs. They entered a narrow corridor lit with a few torches. There were no windows, only satchels made of hemp stacked up along the wall.
    He hefted her into his arms. She dug her teeth into the only exposed area, his bare neck. He screamed and released his hold. 
    The base of her skull exploded in splinters of shuddering pain. Orbs of light danced before her eyelids. She went limp. He raised a heavy boot and ground it into her hand, flattening it against the cold floor. When she cried out, he pressed harder. ‘I’ll break every bone, if you don’t stop screaming.”
    He bent and grabbed her by the neck, hauling her up. She clawed at his hand with her tiny fingers, her legs thrashing through the air.
    “Open the storeroom.”
    Someone unseen behind her jangled keys and turned a lock. The room brimmed to the ceiling with wooden crates and more hemp sacks. Ibrahim dropped her inside the doorway. Her elbow jammed against the hard tiles. Rough hemp pressed against her back through her silken tunic. A painful wheeze tightened her chest and she coughed, gasping for air.
    Outside the room, Ibrahim jabbed a finger at the person whom she still could not see. “Give me all of the keys. No one enters. She does not leave until I come for her. If she escapes, I shall kill you and every last slave in Abdallah’s service.”
    “Yes, master.”
    A lean, bronze-skinned man stepped into view. As he bowed and handed the keys to Ibrahim, his dark eyes met Fatima’s own. Then he turned away and walked the length of the hall.
    Ibrahim wiped a smear of blood from his neck and looked at his stained fingers with widening, dark eyes. They narrowed as he turned his gaze on her. “You shall regret that. Your father has obviously spoiled you. When we are married, you shall learn the ways of a proper wife.”
    “I hate you! You killed my mother!” 
    He pulled the door shut with a heavy thud and left her in darkness.
    She reared up, her chest and throat burning each time she inhaled. Something small and furry squeaked and rummaged between her toes. She drew her knees up. Although it was safe to cry, when no one else could see her, she swiped at each tear before it could fall.
    Crying would not help her. She had to escape, return to her father and let him know her mother had died. The horror of all she had seen did not frighten or make her sad. Something had awoken inside her that she did not understand. It exploded when she had bitten into Ibrahim’s throat. The power of it left her shaking, but also aware that she had to live, if only to destroy Ibrahim by whatever means she could manage. 
    Raised voices came to her from beyond the door. “I don’t care what he’s asking for, Abu Muhammad! I’ll kill him if he becomes too suspicious.”
    “Enough blood has stained our hands today, Ibrahim. We have to find another way out of the city. The guards have not opened the southern gates.”
    “But it’s nearly dawn. We can’t leave with the trade caravan, unless they open those gates!”
    “I know. There can be only one reason they haven’t done it. The Sultan knows the child and mother are missing. He thinks if he keeps the gates closed, Aisha cannot escape.”
    “There’s no escape for her or for her daughter.”
    Keys jangled in the lock. Fatima pitched forward, ready for Ibrahim’s return. If her grandfather knew she was gone, there was still hope. She had to try.
    The door did not open. She frowned into the darkness.
    “Leave her here, cousin.”
    “What?” Ibrahim’s fury set Fatima shaking, although she was outside his reach. “Are you mad? She’s the reason I snuck into this city.”
    “Would you risk our lives for her? I won’t!”
    “You’ll do what I tell you, Abu Muhammad. You may be the Raïs of Malaka, but