There was an indistinct rumbling in the distance, and she could feel the ground shaking slightly beneath her. The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was Ani, anxiously hovering above her. Ani was no longer in the dress covered with her mother’s blood. Her face was washed, and her long hair was pulled up and braided into a coil on top of her head. She was wearing something pastel yellow and cottony. Images jumbled back into Mariam’s mind: the Captain, the auction, Rustem Bey … Mariam was so confused. “Are we safe?” she asked Ani. “I believe so,” said Ani. “Thank God you have awakened. I was beginning to think you were going to die, too.” The words caught in her throat, and a sob escaped. Mariam wanted to put her arms around the girl. Hadn’t Herminé’s dying request been for Mariam to look after Ani? Yet here the roles were switched. Mariam tried to sit up, but knives of pain shot through her stomach and she fell back down. “Be careful,” said Ani. “You passed out last night and are probably weaker than you realize.”
