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Aloe blinked several times, the emir’s petition totally breaching her thought scheme. She couldn’t believe what her ears had heard. This must be a mistake of some sort.

“I... uhm...” She didn’t how to respond or what to respond, for that matter. “S-surely I must have misheard, R-rani.”

“I don’t think so, no.” Rani’s honeyed voice permeated the air. The woman had expulsed all the rage from her body and now only her calculated seduction and innate charisma remained. “I am truthful with my offer, Aloe. I do want you to work as my scribe.”

“I...” Aloe measured carefully her next words. “I do not believe I am qualified for this job, Rani.” Haphazardly, Aloe managed to make a mask of her own, her nervousness traded for stoicism.

This was a mask she was comfortable with; one she used her entire life. One that she couldn’t even tell if it was her real self anymore. Her expressions were rigid and calm, those useful for a banker.

“Once again, a diplomatic answer.” Rani sighed, yet there was a shed of amusement in her voice. “Noncommittal yet unaggressive. Please, explain why you aren’t qualified for a scribe job at the court.”

“For starters,” Aloe began by prolonging her thinking time. It was a common tactic, the use of words devoid of meaning instead of puffs of air like ‘uhms’ or ‘ohs’ as it made the speaker more confident and knowledgeable. “I have not been trained in such fields. My competence pales in comparison to that of my late mother.”

It was hard talking about Shahrazad with this unnatural calmness. But what pained Aloe more was that it was simpler to do so than she thought. And that scared her.

“Shahrazad was one of the most competent scribes in the city and the court, I wouldn’t expect the same experience and expertise from a new recruit,” Rani added with a diplomatic smile of her own. She rested her chin on the backside of her hand, which at the same time had her arm resting on the throne’s armrest. “Do better.”

No arguments. Aloe’s mind was blank. Why am I even trying to refuse her offer? This is the best I could get in my life; people kill over such job offers. Then why...

A new refutation appeared in her mind.

“My talents would be misplaced and misused.” Aloe continued. “All my life I have been trained under the wing of my father as a banker, so taking the position of a scribe would be simply inefficient.”

“Then work as the court’s treasurer.” Rani smiled at her.

The warm gesture melted Aloe’s mind, the sweetness corroding the impassivity, but she stood her ground. Why is she being this hardheaded on having me working for her? It was weird. Even if Rani owed Aloe’s mother, she just didn’t have any qualifications.

As Aloe turned her eyes around the audience hall to search for answers, her eyes latched onto the last remaining scribe. She wore multiple pieces of jewelry and an expensive-looking yellow dress. But it wasn’t her wardrobe that grabbed Aloe’s attention, but the familiarity of her face. I know her... A straight memory latched into her mind, refusing to let go.

“I’m afraid that wouldn’t be possible.” Aloe countered.

“How so?” Rani asked, a hint of a giggle at the end of her sentence.

“The woman at your right is the scribe of commerce, isn’t she?” Aloe explained. “Granting the position of treasurer would make some overlaps between our jobs, leading to yet another source of inefficiency.”

“Hmm, you are right.” Rani scratched her cheek, but something about that gesture irked Aloe.

The emir isn’t paying attention to my arguments. She noticed. She’s toying with me.

“But then what?” The sultanzade violated Aloe with her predatory gaze, as if she were but a prey. “Sadina is a rich city, we surely can afford some inefficiencies. Isn’t that right, Tamara?”

“Absolutely, my Emir.” Tamara, the scribe of commerce, responded without taking an eye out of her parchment. Aloe doubted the scribe was even paying attention to the conversation.

“You’ve heard her, Aloe.” Rani talked with a slow and candid tone, and it raptured Aloe. Those lips and eyes... She found herself thinking about the emir rather than herself. “We could be here all day discussing valid arguments and dismantling them at the same time. So why don’t you just tell me the true reason you don’t want to work for me? Do you mayhap dislike me?” The sultanzade asked, the faintest shade of a whimper in her voice.

“Of course not, Rani!” Aloe let out instantly, her hand guided to her chest.

Huh? She thought in the confines of her mind. Why have I jumped this fast to an answer? Even if she truly didn’t hate the emir, for she didn’t even know her, and she truly seemed to be a friend of her mother; Aloe didn’t think of her with enough passion to let out such a heated answer.

Aloe coughed – partially hiding her shame, partially recomposing herself – and continued talking. “Whilst your offer is truly outstanding, I have a two-fold reason to decline it.”

“Tell them then.” Rani led her hand before her mouth, covering her rising smile from Aloe’s impromptu reaction.

“First,” Aloe cleared her throat, “is that I do not feel particularly comfortable with the idea of working at the court.”

“Is it about your mother’s?” The sultanzade asked and the girl nodded.

“I am not able to think with my straight mind as I’ve just today found out about my mother’s death. I need more time before taking such an important decision like this one.”

“I see...” To Aloe’s surprise, the emir understood her problems. But instead of her eyes showing humanity, they showed cold calculations, like that of a banker measuring risk and losses. A face she knew and understood. “I can wait for an answer after you are done with your mourning,” Rani responded diplomatically, too deadbeat for what should have been an emotional matter. “And what about your second reason?”

“Secondly, after my grandfather’s recent death, I have inherited a piece of land and a greenhouse.” Aloe also talked with an emotionless cadence. “His last wish was that I took care of the plants on it.”

“Wait, your grandfather’s death?” Rani asked, a veritable crack of surprise appearing in her stone mask. “You have also lost your grandfather besides your mother?”

Aloe nodded. “Though his death isn’t as recent, just over a month ago now.”

“I think I can understand better your mourn now.” The emir added. “But why does that second reason even factor in?” Rani tilted her head, the strands of hair deliciously flowing like the waves of the sea. “Couldn’t you just take care of the plants or, even better, hire someone to do so?”

“I do not possess the money to do so,” Aloe explained. “And even if I did, my grandfather asked to personally take care of them.”

Lie. Aloe hid her worries behind a powerful façade. There was no reason to tell that, Karaim hadn’t specified anything like that, this lie was all but Aloe’s own creation. I cannot allow anyone to know of Evolution. They were her discoveries, her meaning. The small steps of her progress in Infusion, and the discoveries of new plants. It all fueled her.

And after losing everything, the greenhouse was the only thing tying her to the world.

She couldn’t lose it.

She couldn’t give it away.

It was...

It was all she had.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry, Aloe. She ordered herself. If you do so, you’ll lose all credibility. Do. Not. Show. Weakness.

“I still don’t see the problem why you couldn’t take care of them yourself.” Rani countered, unbeknownst yet mercifully distracting the girl from her pain.

“The greenhouse is a day away from Sadina into the Qiraji Desert.” Aloe smiled confidently, far from the actual turmoil brewing inside her.

“Ah.” The sultanzade puffed in realization. “I do see why that may present a problem now.” Then she stood up, her dress covering her knees and thighs as she did so. “But are you really going to squander such an opportunity for the last wish of a dead man?”

“It is also the last petition my mother gave a month ago. That was the last time I saw her.” Rage trickled in Aloe’s voice.

It was faked, she didn’t feel hostility toward the emir, but using her dead mother – however pitiful it was – as an excuse could work. Maybe Aloe’s tone was faked, but not her words.

Shahrazad had wished for Aloe to take care of the greenhouse and now – more than ever – she felt truly motivated to fulfill her mother’s wishes.

It was no longer Karaim’s wish, but also her mother’s, yet most importantly, hers.

“I see conviction in your eyes,” Rani called out. “And I can appreciate at. But that won’t be enough. Let me give you a piece of advice, Aloe. I don’t really like taking a no for an answer.”

As Rani’s words pierced her ears, Aloe got a reality check. The person in front of her wasn’t Farid, an awful mentor that she could dismiss by mail, but the most powerful person in Sadina short of the Sultanah.

She was talking with Rani-al-Sadina, the head of the greatest trading center in Ydaz.

“But that will be all for today,” The sultanzade suddenly said. “Aaliyah has summoned her children to Asina and I must depart today.”

As the emir spoke her words, Aloe felt as if a very real and tangible weight on her shoulders had been removed. She wisely held her sigh.

Rani walked across the red carpet, approaching Aloe, and she put a hand on her shoulder. The imperial princess was so tall and Aloe so small that she didn’t need to raise her hand that much.

“I’ll be waiting for an answer when I return though.” The warm voice sent shivers down Aloe’s spine, then the princess continued walking away. “See you later girls!” Rani made her way out of the audience hall, her hips swaying harder than the back of a camel.