seen from Spain
seen from United States
seen from Israel
seen from Philippines
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from China
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from India
seen from Germany
seen from Philippines
seen from Russia
seen from China
seen from China
seen from Germany
seen from Germany
seen from United States
He had loved his father. And the injustice of his murder haunted Ihsan. But it had been Omar who had soothed his hurts, talked with him into the night, given pride and praise for accomplishments. It had been Omar, and Dilay, who kept vigil during Ihsan's worst days. pg.460
Samira got off the bed and came around to kneel on the floor beside Naime and Ihsan. She put an arm around Naime's waist. Ihsan stroked Naime's hair. She inhaled a long, sniffling breath. Then she wiped her eyes and rose to lean forward and kiss her father's brow. "Tell Anne I love her," she whispered. "And know that I love you, Baba." Ihsan squeezed Omar's hand, and wished, like Naime, to hear his laugh one more time.
"Naime," he said. "It is time to stop." He took her hands and she tried to pull away, but he was stronger. He pulled her off the bed and into his embrace. "He is gone." "No." Her mask was gone, her face an excruciating window into her torn heart, tear-stained and tortured. "I cannot do it without him. I cannot do it alone." "You are not alone." He hugged her harder. "You have me. You have everything you have built. Everything you have yet to build. Your place is here, and his is no longer." "I wanted him to laugh again. I wanted him to read to me again," she sobbed, burying her head against Ihsan's shoulder, and he stroked her undone hair. They had not just been father and daughter, Sultan and heir. They had been friends. He looked at Nesrin. She sat peaceful on the edge of the bed near Omar's head, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes closed. A tear slid down her cheek. He was nothing but jagged ice on the inside. Numb on the outside. "I can't." Naime looked at her father and her face crumpled again, her body sinking against Ihsan's as though she would drop to the floor. "I can't." "You can," he murmured. "We can." Ihsan helped her to sit on the bed beside Omar, and she took her father's hand into her lap. She stroked the back of it, a wet sob shaking her body. Cries filled his own lungs, his held tears making his face ache. He knew the words to say, to comfort her. Somehow. The words Dilay had said to him. But he would need time for them to sink into his own belief. pg.435
The pale glow of her magic faded, the room growing oppressively still. None of them moved, everything in the room—light and ark, sorrow and memory, eyes and hearts—focused on the last breath of Omar Sabri. "Goodbye," Naime whispered faintly, "my Sultan." pg.436
He glanced at Nesrin, who switched her hands, her right fingers to Omar's throat, her left over his heart. Ceylik asked her something, and she shook her head. Flour dusted her left cheek. Her hair was a curtain of loose curls made auburn by the mage orb. Her nose scrunched in concentration, eyes shut. Ihsan had not seen this version of her. Not seen her so confident and settled in herself. Never seen her more beautiful and vital and radiant. Alive. A vibrant, powerful contrast to the ebbing version of Omar. Brilliant life and fading loss. It was painful to witness, yet also, settled him. Gave him a measure of peace to cling to. She looked at him suddenly, as if she sensed his stare. The mage orb lit the new green in her eyes, the glitter of verdance. Her expression was sorrow, grief. And joy. For a moment that seemed to stretch a lifetime, he saw a universe in her eyes. Birth, and death, creation...and destruction. And in that, somehow, hope. Memory. All that one had given to build them all. Everything Omar was. Everything his life had created, had nourished. Nesrin did not speak, but it was clear to Ihsan. It was time. Omar had reached the Sixth spoke in his Turns. There was peace in that, alongside the sorrow. Ihsan looked at his uncle's face. It was calm. Smoothed of the worry lines and confused anger that shaped his visage when he was awake. I hope she is there to greet you, Amca. That the Wheel spins to bring you together again, in another time. pg.434
But when Nesrin met his gaze, her sorrow was twin for his. She leaned forward enough to place her other hand over his. Her warmth drove out his cold. He pulled his magic back to himself and Nesrin smiled weakly. pg.434
"Amca," Ihsan whispered, holding the cold of his power around his own body. Not yet. Omar's face was relaxed, as if he only slept, instead of hovering on the precipice of the void. pg.434
He took Omar's hand between his own. When he was a child, he had thought it most closely resembled a bear's paw. Easily encompassing his. Strong, and broad. Enough to hold up everyone he cared for. Enough to hold up a nation. It was frail and cold in Ihsan's now. He cradled it like a broken bird, his grief welling, a tide swelling within him until he was no longer large enough to hold it. The mage lamps extinguished as his magic took him over. Naime glowed, enough light for them to see by, like pale morning sun at dawn. His own power shimmered glacial blue alongside hers. pg.433
