Free The Storyteller's Daughter by Cameron Dokey

answering merely, “Then it would please me to send for her now.”
    So Shahrayar clapped his hands to summon a servant to fetch Dinarzad. When she was brought, she threw herself at once into Shahrazad’s arms. Her tears flowed freely, for she had yet to learn the way to conceal her feelings, being but a child. And Shahrayar was moved at her grief.
    “Would you like me to leave you alone?”
    At his words, Dinarzad’s head shot up. “No! You must not!” she cried.
    “Dinarzad, remember you are speaking to the king,” Shahrazad remonstrated softly.
    Dinarzad’s face colored and she bit her lip. “That is … I beg you to stay with us, my lord. There is something I would ask of my sister, but you alone can answer yea or nay.”
    “What is it that you wish?” asked Shahrayar, intrigued.
    “My sister tells me a story each night before I sleep,” Dinarzad explained and, though her eyes managed to meet Shahrayar’s without flinching, her voice was soft and small. “She reads the cloth in the way of her mother, Maju the Storyteller. For as long as I can remember, she has done this, but after tonight—”

    But here her eyes filled with tears once more and she was unable to go on.

    So the rumors are true,
Shahrayar thought.
Shahrazad has become a storyteller, like her mother before her.

    “You would like her to tell you a story,” he said.
One last story.
    Dinarzad nodded.
    “By all means,” said Shahrayar, pleased that he could grant her wish. At his words, Dinarzad gave a great sigh. Her distress seemed to leave her, and she nestled her head upon her sister’s shoulder.
    Above the young girl’s head, Shahrazad’s eyes met those of Shahrayar. In that moment, it did not seem to him that Shahrazad was blind. Instead he thought she saw him very well. Though what she saw when she looked at him, Shahrayar could not tell. Then Shahrazad looked down, and the moment passed.
    “Thank you,” Shahrazad said softly. “Will you please send for my trunk? Only then will I be able to do as my sister has asked.”
    And Shahrayar said, “I will do so at once.”
    And now it was Shahrazad who sighed, for though she knew her greatest test still lay ahead, she was satisfied that it was well begun.

Chapter 8
DINARZAD SETS THE FUTURE IN MOTION

    “Very well, little one,” Shahrazad said to her sister after the trunk had been brought. “You know what to do by now. Open the trunk and hand me the length of cloth you will find inside.”

    But to Shahrayar’s surprise, Dinarzad did not at once obey her older sister’s instructions. Instead, she pulled Shahrazad’s head down. Then, she whispered something Shahrayar could not hear, her dark eyes flashing to his face and then away.
    “If that is what you wish,” Shahrazad said, when her sister was finished.
    “It is,” replied Dinarzad.
    “Will you ask him, or shall I?”
    “You do it,” Dinarzad said.
    “My sister wonders whether or not you would like to choose tonight’s story, my lord.”
    “Me?!” Shahrayar exclaimed, genuinely surprised. “But why?”
    “Tell him,” Shahrazad urged gently. “Don’t be afraid.”
    “It’s just—” Dinarzad faltered. T wondered—” She pulled in a breath and plowed on. “My sister has told me many tales, one every night since I was strong enough to open Maju’s trunk. But it does not hold stories just for me. It holds tales for all. Do you not wish to hear one?”
    “I do wish it,” said Shahrayar. And found with the saying of it that it was true.

    You have raised this child up well, Shahrazad,
he thought. For, like the rest of the court, he had heard the tales surrounding Dinarzad’s birth.
She is generous where others would find cause to be selfish, just as you are.

    “Then, if you please, my lord,” said Dinarzad, and she gestured to the trunk.
    So Shahrayar knelt and opened the ebony trunk that had once belonged to Maju the Storyteller. As he did so, he heard a sigh like the final gust of a windstorm pass