The horn blasts again. At last Zhian comes to his senses, and he pulls back, scowling.
I’ll be back for you, he promises. And you and I will be joined at last, the jinn prince and his princess, unstoppable and undisputed!
Shifting back into a girl, I wave at him furiously, and at last he goes, his monstrous form shifting into gray smoke and gliding uphill toward the distant Mount Tissia.
Then I turn and run back the way I came, shifting into a songbird. I flit through the trees, over the heads of the Eristrati running toward the clearing.
I alight on a rock near the funeral and shift back into my human form, taking a moment to compose myself before slipping back through the crowd to Aladdin’s side.
“Zahra!” he hisses. “Where have you been?”
“What do you mean?” I murmur, my eyes on the mountain above.
He frowns, but doesn’t press the issue.
I continue gazing at the mountain, wondering how long it will take Nardukha to fulfill his promise, and how it will happen. What will I feel? Will he come himself to do it? I don’t see any sign of Zhian, so I can only hope he is on his way to the alomb, if not already through it.
After the funeral ends, Caspida leads the procession back to the palace. She walks alone, with Sulifer and Darian a few steps behind. The wind picks up until it’s nearly howling, and everyone must cover their noses and mouths against the dust whipping up. An ominous rumble sounds in the distance, over the choppy gray sea.
Aladdin, anticipating the wards on the city gates, offers me his arm to lean on, and with a mighty effort I keep my pain hidden as the Eskarr symbols glare down at me. We hurry through, Aladdin acting casual while I simply do my best not to pass out. These gates are smaller than the ones through which we first entered the city, and the wards release me sooner, but it is several minutes before my vision clears and I can breathe again.
The court convenes in the throne room, where Caspida stands before her father’s great seat, facing the crowd. Four guards are positioned at each corner of the dais, and a row of scribes sit behind her, poised to record everything that happens on long scrolls of creamy parchment, their sleeves rolled back and ink pots at their elbows.
Sulifer and Darian stand at the foot of the throne, wearing identical expressions of solemnity. Opposite them stand Raz and Nessa, deceptively demure in their funereal black, but their eyes miss nothing.
The crowd whispers and rustles, looking drab and almost indistinguishable from the gray-clad servants who line the walls. High above, through the openings of the domes, the storm clouds roll and rumble, making the hall echo with thunder. Large clay urns have been set directly beneath the holes in the roof, in case rain should begin to fall.
Once everyone has gathered in the hall and the great teak doors are shut with a series of heavy booms, Caspida stands. Everyone falls quiet, and faces turned toward her display a range of expectations: curiosity, hope, pity, and hunger.
In a loud, clear voice that rings across the hall she cries, “My father, Malek son of Anoushan son of Arhab son of Oshur, King of Kings, King of Parthenia, Chosen by Imohel, King of the Amulens, is dead.”
“The king is dead,” murmurs the crowd in response.
“I am Caspida, daughter of Malek and Parisandra, Princess of Parthenia, Chosen by Imohel, Princess of the Amulens. By the right of my birth, I claim this throne.”
“The king is dead,” the crowd says again. “Long live the queen.”
Beside me, Khavar and Ensi’s faces shine, their eyes flooding with pride as Caspida sits on the throne, her chin high and eyes bright. Already she fills the massive seat better than her ill father did.
The proceedings are making me edgy, and I find it hard to focus on my surroundings. I wait, tense and impatient for Nardukha to uphold his end of the deal. I watch the openings in the domes above, as if the Lord of the Jinn himself might come swooping down.
A crier takes position behind the throne. “Look on your queen, Amulens, the one on whom Imohel’s favor rests, the daughter of kings. Caspida the First, who has been found worthy.”
“Worthy is she, and favored,” replies the crowd.
Silence falls as Caspida raises a hand.
“Before my father’s death, he made a final decree,” she states.
Ensi leans to Aladdin and whispers, “This is our cue.”
Slowly, she and Khavar take up position in front of and behind Aladdin and begin escorting him toward the throne. There is some distance to cover, and the nobles throw angry looks as we press through the crowd. But in the vastness of the hall, our movement is barely noticed.
Caspida continues, “To ensure the future of the kingdom, King Malek wished that I, heir apparent, be joined in marriage before taking the crown.”
The crowd murmurs appreciatively. Sulifer’s hand closes on Darian’s shoulder, and Darian’s face glows. He looks up at his father, his eyes shining, and Sulifer gives him a small smile.
“Go, go,” urges Ensi under her breath, prodding Aladdin.
“In keeping with my father’s will,” says Caspida, “I shall take a husband tomorrow at dawn.”
My attention snaps to the queen, the faces around me sharpening into focus.
All eyes turn to Darian, most of them smiling. He can’t hold back a grin any longer, and he tugs his coat straight, preparing to ascend the dais.
“And so, I am pleased to announce my betrothal to the man who will rule at my side and usher Parthenia and its people into a new era.”
Darian clasps hands with his father, then turns and sets a foot on the first stair, looking up at Caspida with passion burning in his eyes.
Without looking at him, Caspida swings a hand wide and announces, “Prince Rahzad rai Asnam of Istarya!”
The crowd gasps as one.
Darian falters, confusion twisting his features, while Sulifer’s chest swells and his eyes darken. Heads swivel our way as Aladdin reaches the dais and climbs the stairs. Caspida holds a hand out to him in welcome, while mere paces away, Darian turns scarlet.
“No!” he bursts out. Everyone holds their breaths as he moves to intercept Aladdin. “This is a lie! I am the one who will marry the queen! Our betrothal was sealed years ago!” He turns to his father. “Father, tell them!”
Sulifer is surrounded by officials, whispering and gesturing angrily. Caspida steps in before her uncle can say anything.
“Step down, Darian.” Her voice is rigid and commanding. “My father’s decree was that I should marry. He did not state that I should marry you.”
Darian stammers and looks from her to Sulifer. The vizier finally makes a move, climbing the dais and looming over Caspida. Aladdin starts forward, but Caspida holds up a hand, and he pauses.
“Princess,” says Sulifer in a low voice, “this is childish and irresponsible. You cannot break troth, not even as a queen—which, let me remind you, you are not yet.”
“I cannot break a promise I did not make myself,” Caspida replies calmly. “And no promises will be made on my behalf. From now on, no voice will command my future but my own. Step aside, Uncle. I will keep my father’s decree, but on my terms and not yours.” She draws herself up, unflinching. “Leave our presence.”
Sulifer stares at her with a blank expression, but his eyes are dark with anger. He turns to Darian. “Come.”
Without looking back, Sulifer descends and strides through the crowd. Darian hesitates, his face scarlet.
“You heard the queen,” says Aladdin coolly.
After giving Aladdin a furious look, Darian runs to catch up to his father. The astonished people part wide, none wanting to be caught in Sulifer’s path. The vizier and his son leave through the central door, letting it slam behind them.
Only then does Caspida turn back to Aladdin and hold out a hand. He takes it, his face pale, and together they face the court.
> “Let the wedding preparations commence,” says Caspida.
Then she sits on the throne, Aladdin standing beside her, their hands still joined. The crier, brought forward by a flick of Caspida’s free hand, dismisses the nobles. They are slow to leave, and long, calculating looks are cast at the couple on the dais. Guards speed up the process, ushering them all out, until at last the room is empty save for the few guards, Caspida and Aladdin, and the Watchmaidens and me.
The princess exhales deeply and bends over, her face in her hands. Her girls flock to her, brushing Aladdin aside and kneeling before their princess.
Aladdin stands by quietly. I move to his side, and he meets my gaze. The look he gives me is longing and uncertain, and soon I must avert my eyes, unable to withstand it.
It is for the best, my thief.
Caspida says, “Sulifer won’t give up this easily. Even now, he is regrouping with his followers. We must move quickly. The Eristrati are loyal to me, at least, as are a few of the ministers.”
Khavar takes over, assigning tasks to the others in preparation for the sudden nuptials. Within minutes, the girls have planned the entire ceremony, with special attention paid to security.
“Find Captain Pasha,” says Caspida, who sits with her knees drawn up on the throne, her face creased with thought. “He is loyal to me. Tell him to gather the Eristrati and every guard he trusts and bring them here.”
Nessa’s eyes grow round. “You think Sulifer will attack?”
“We’ve known this moment was coming for years. Sulifer will try to control me the way he did my father. If I give him any ground, even for a day, he will inextricably insinuate himself into my reign. These next hours are crucial. I must establish myself independently of him and prove to my people that I will not be ruled. I want to speak to my council of ministers, to discuss the coronation.”
Aladdin speaks up, startling the girls a bit. “Then what are we waiting for? Why don’t we throw him into the dungeons now?”
Caspida frowns. “It’s not that simple, Rahzad. The vizier has the loyalty of the army as well as much of the court. Locking him up will only turn them against us.”
“But you’re the queen. Can’t you do whatever you want?”
“I don’t know how your Istaryan kings and queens behave,” she returns, a bit sharply, “but in Parthenia, our power relies on the good will of the aristocracy and military. If I did ‘whatever I wanted,’ I’d have riots breaking out on every corner.”
Aladdin gives me a frustrated glance, but there is nothing I can do. He must learn that Caspida is right. His vengeance will have to wait a while yet.
“Rahzad, I do not mean to be sharp with you,” Caspida says more softly. “How patient you have been, while I have dragged you about like a goat on a leash. I wish we had time to do this properly. To send gifts to one another’s kingdoms, to discuss terms of our alliance. I have not met your family, and I know so little of your people.”
Aladdin winces. “There’s really not much to know.”
“When this is over, we will retrace our steps and begin anew. I cannot leave my city until the jinn have been dealt with, but when the time is right, I will journey with you to Istarya and see your land for myself.”
He smiles a bit weakly and glances at me, his eyes bright with panic. I feel a bit ill as I return his look, knowing I won’t be around to help him. Knowing it’s my fault he’s in this mess. The consequences of my recent actions seem to be piling up, and I feel like a spider that has spun too thin a web.
Caspida makes us wait until Captain Pasha arrives with a contingent of Eristrati before leaving with her handmaidens. Aladdin and I, surrounded by a dozen guards, exit after her.
Back at Aladdin’s rooms, he insists the guards wait outside, which they do only after thoroughly searching the chambers for assassins, poison, or other plots.
Alone at last, Aladdin slumps onto the cushions and lets out a long, groaning sigh. Outside, the storm winds rip at the silk curtains hung between the arches, and rain patters on the courtyard. Though it is midday, it is dark enough to be midnight.
“It’s all happening so fast,” he says. “I didn’t think . . . I’m marrying the princess in a matter of hours.”
“And yet you look as if you’ve swallowed broken glass.”
He slowly runs his hand through his hair, his eyes fixed on the floor. “She doesn’t love me.”
I go stand in one of the arches and let the rain dampen my face as the curtains billow around me. The smoke roiling and pulsing inside me echoes the wildness of the storm. I watch the sky for any sign of jinn, the bond with my lamp chafing like a rope around my core. Where is Zhian? Where is Nardukha? Why do they delay? I long to fly away from here, to outrun Aladdin’s gaze and hide myself in the clouds.
“Love is a path lined with roses,” I say bitterly. “But it leads to a cliff’s edge, and all who follow it tumble to their doom. You will not find your happiness there.”
“Then what does bring happiness, Zahra?” he asks harshly, rising to his feet. “Tell me. In four thousand years, have you unlocked that secret?”
There is a challenge in his tone that makes me flinch. Drawing my eyes from the sky, I turn to him. “No. I have not. Which can mean only one thing: There is no secret to happiness. Because happiness itself is a mythical construct, a dream you humans tell yourselves to get you through each day. It is the moon, and you, like the sun, pursue it relentlessly, chasing it around and around, getting nowhere. And yet it never occurs to you that your quest is in vain. Why?” I step forward, eyes intent. “Tell me, Aladdin—why? What drives you into this insanity?”
His eyes thoughtfully stare into the rain, and he says, “Faith.”
At that, I laugh sourly. “In what? Imohel? The undergods?”
“Maybe,” he says. “For some. For others, faith in ourselves. Faith in the ones we love. Faith in tomorrow.”
“You sound like a bad poet.”
His eyes settle on me probingly. “What would it take to make you believe, Zahra?”
“I have lived too long to believe in happiness.”
“You’ve been in that lamp too long. It’s curdled your heart. I think you do believe. I think you just don’t want to get hurt. You’re afraid.”
I clench my hands into fists, turning my back to him and facing the storm.
He stands and walks to my side, firm in the wind that blows around him, ruffling his hair and making his black cloak lift and swirl. “You loved before, and she was taken from you. Ever since, you’ve been afraid to love again. You insist you’re a monster because you’re afraid of being human.”
I stand before him speechless, defenseless. What good is it, Habiba, to deny the truth? Your friendship woke something in me all those centuries ago, some dormant humanity that had lingered through the years, and after you died, it recoiled and hid again.
But Aladdin has woken it once more. With his sun-bright smile and his laughing eyes and his way of asking the hardest kind of questions. After you, I swore never to love again.
But I love him.
And so I must let him go.
Chapter Twenty
I TELL MYSELF TO BE PATIENT. It has only been a few hours since I released Zhian, and Ambadya is a vast world. It will take him some time to cross the red wastes and jagged mountains to Nardukha’s stronghold, where the Shaitan holds court. And who can say how long Nardukha will take to grant my freedom, or what manner in which he will do it. Time moves more slowly for the ageless; he may pass days as humans pass hours, and I could be stuck here for a while yet.
Strangely, the thought brings some comfort. As much as I long to be rid of Aladdin and the feelings he stirs in me, I also want never to leave his side. As soon as I do, he will be alone in this vipers’ nest of a court.
There is much to do in the hours before dawn, when the wedding will
take place. Generally Amulen weddings take a week of preparation, with each day carefully parceled out into ceremony. But tradition must be sacrificed for speed, and so we tackle the bare minimum.
Most important, Aladdin needs a bath.
The ceremonial bathing the day before the wedding is one of the more sacred traditions. And so Aladdin, accompanied by a half dozen soldiers, is escorted to the palace baths. I follow in the form of a sparrow, flitting from here to there down the hall, a few steps behind. Before leaving his room, Aladdin made me promise to wait outside, but I perch on the top of the last guard’s peaked helmet and pass unnoticed inside the baths.
The room is dark except for thin rods of light that beam through small holes dotting the dome above. Six large, round pools are spaced evenly in a white tiled floor. White lotus and rose petals drift tranquilly on the turquoise water. The room is empty when we arrive, and Aladdin turns to the guards.
“You, um, wouldn’t mind waiting outside, would you?”
“We are under strict orders not to take our eyes off you,” replies a stoic man.
Aladdin rubs his face. “Yes, I know that. But look, I’m the only one here. If I need you, I’ll yell or something.”
The man simply stares blankly back at him.
With a groan of frustration, Aladdin adds, “You do realize that after tomorrow, I’ll be your king?”
The guards exchange uncertain looks, then acquiesce begrudgingly, streaming out through the door. I flit away and land on a ledge along the wall.
Aladdin sighs and disrobes down to a white cloth around his waist, careful not to set down the lamp. This he strings onto a chain around his neck, and then he sinks into the first pool. He vanishes beneath the surface, bubbles streaming around him, and does not emerge for several long seconds. I begin to worry that he won’t come back up at all, that he will go the same route as so many of my masters who came to regret their wishes—but then he bursts upward, shaking his head and sending water spraying. He glides across the pool and sits on the opposite side in a shaft of sunlight, stretching his arms along the tiled rim. His head falls back, and he shuts his eyes.