Cehrazad
“How many books have you collected–specifically, relating to antique races and departed rulers?” asks the King. “Do you know the works of the poets by heart? Have you studied philosophy and the...
View ArticleCehrazad
Cehrazad expects cold horror, to be cast out, shamed by her wailing sisters: but she slips into the house without incident. There’s only First Mother, waiting in her room. “You’ve lost face?” she says,...
View ArticleCehrazad
Dunyazad’s face was rounder than Cehrazad’s, cheekbones higher, eyes set more deeply. The carefully repaired glass mask doesn’t fit. “Pity,” murmurs the King, handing it to an attendant. “There’s some...
View ArticleCehrazad
Figures play before the shimmering curtain, and in Cehrazad’s eyes their limbs are fluid: swords, then tentacles, then the crested heads of birds. Shimmering. Curtain. Fire. She wakes in a choking...
View ArticleCehrazad
They pull the bag away, and Cehrazad blinks in the sudden light. She dropped Dunyazad’s mask on the way here, in fear and resignation: she was caught, and would hide behind no face but her own. “This...
View Article
