The Moth and the Flame by Renée Ahdieh

A WHISPER AND A CHALLENGE
    A MOUNTAIN OF JEWELED SILK LAY BEFORE DESPINA. Resolute.
    She studied her adversary, both hands propped on her hips. Then Despina sighed, long and loud.
    Such carelessness.
    â€œAnything with embroidery needs to be wrapped individually,” she directed to Ruha, the young servant girl at her shoulder. “If something snags, it won’t be on my head.” Her voice dropped as an afterthought. “Or my purse.”
    Without hesitation, Ruha followed Despina’s command, reaching for the topmost garment with cautious hands. They worked alongside each other in silence, sorting the beautiful pieces of clothing, many of which had yet to be worn.
    After a time, Ruha glanced at Despina from the corner of her eye. The younger girl seemed to hesitate, her mouth ajar as though caught mid-speech. Finally she faced Despina. “Have you seen the new queen yet?”
    Despina considered her response before replying. Too much information would be foolish. Too little, unimpressive. She couldafford to be neither. “Only at a distance. The new calipha brought her own servants to the palace.”
    â€œBut I thought you were to be her handmaiden.” The servant girl’s voice bordered on querulous.
    Despina lifted a shoulder in dismissive fashion. “It appears I am to be the Guardian of the Garments, instead.”
    â€œOnce she meets you, the queen will undoubtedly change her mind. No one has your sense of style. Or your way with colors.”
    â€œOr my care in storing garments, it would seem.” Though she was irritated, Despina sent a warm smile Ruha’s way. The two young women resumed their work.
    Resumed their many contemplations.
    It would be a lie to say the unspoken dismissal of Despina’s services didn’t smart. She’d only recently been elevated to the vaunted post of handmaiden to the queen; it had taken her years to achieve such standing. Years to move beyond a troubling past.
    But the new Calipha of Khorasan was purportedly the quiet sort. And when Despina had last seen her—though it was but a brief instant—the lovely girl seemed . . . elsewhere. As though her mind lived amongst the clouds. As though the first hint of a storm would spin her into turmoil. Despina supposed it made sense the girl would not want a perfect stranger dressing her or attending to her needs. After all, the new queen had been raised in Rey; her servants were certainly close by.
    Her name was Ava. That much they all knew and not much more. In their language, it meant “voice.” Strange that this slender sylph of a queen exhibited anything but. When she wasin need of something, she sent her most trusted servants. Hushed conversations transpired in shadowed hallways. And all was handled in an equally discreet manner.
    Perhaps a somewhat taciturn queen would suit the young caliph. After all, Khalid Ibn al-Rashid had always been a boy of few words.
    So—despite the slight to her new position—Despina set about organizing the many garments strewn about the space. Even though it was clear she would not be in direct contact with the new calipha, Despina’s pride would not allow her to do anything less than perfect work.
    Despina adjusted the thick band of silver resting above her left elbow. Huffing audibly, she bent to collect more fabric. Then—before she could thwart it—the tassels snagged on something. The tiny mirrors on the skirt’s embroidery caught on intricate blue fringe. An unmistakable rip echoed through the space.
    Ruha whirled about, her eyes wide. Horrified.
    Though her cheeks burned, Despina’s smile was one of punishing precision.
    She glared at the skirt in question. “With all the power of the gods, I smite you,” Despina said. Unfolding the torn garment, she turned to squint into the light of a nearby taper.
    â€œCan it be mended?”
    â€œThe seam is still intact. But I’m not quite