Aladdin swallows.
With a laugh of triumph, Darian pulls Aladdin’s sash, and the lamp comes swinging into plain sight. Curious murmurs rustle through the crowd; they aren’t sure what it is he’s discovered, but they know it must be important by the way Darian shouts excitedly. Aladdin grabs the lamp’s handle, trying to tug it away from the prince. I feel nauseated as once, twice, thrice I am nearly sucked into the lamp, only for Aladdin to regain possession of it.
“Sorcerer!” Darian cries. “Jinn-worshipper!”
The crowd picks up his cry, and the words echo across the room. Caspida angrily intervenes, grabbing Darian and pulling him away. The lamp, still bound to Aladdin, is torn from his grasp, and Aladdin catches it.
“What is this?” she asks, but by the dread in her voice, I think she already knows.
“Yes, thief, what is this?” asks Darian, smirking.
“It’s a custom of my people,” says Aladdin hoarsely. His face is drained of color, but still he tries to maintain his cover. “You know. Symbolizing light and . . . good fortune . . . All Istaryan grooms carry a lamp to their wedding.” He stares challengingly at Darian, daring the prince to announce that Aladdin had stolen the lamp from him, thus condemning them both.
“Liar,” snarls Darian. “You conspired with the jinn to pass yourself off as a prince, when you are nothing but a criminal. And with the jinn’s help, you murdered the king!” Darian pulls a vial from his pocket and holds it up. “This was found in his rooms—a deadly poison called Serpent’s Bite, the selfsame potion that took the life of our king!” He throws a finger toward Aladdin. “Murderer! King-killer!”
Aladdin’s jaw drops open. “The king? I didn’t—”
“Every word this man speaks is a lie!” Darian declares. “He is no prince. This man is a fraud and a criminal! His own parents were traitors, beheaded by my father for stirring up rebellion. He is not Rahzad, prince of Istarya, but Aladdin, a common thief who has plagued our city for years!”
And with that declaration, my glamour hiding Aladdin’s true face shatters and dissipates, revealing his true image. Recognition flares in Caspida’s eyes, and with it, dark anger.
“Aladdin,” she whispers, raising a hand to her temple. She blinks hard, as if unable to understand what she’s seeing. “Can it be?”
He steps forward, a hand raised. “Princess, I can explain—”
“Be silent,” she orders coldly, her gaze icing over. Then, stepping closer, she whispers angrily, “I have never been so humiliated in my life. You have ruined me and killed my father! I thought . . . I thought you a friend. Both of you.” She blinks away a tear, her eyes burning into Aladdin’s. “May you carry the weight of this betrayal to your grave.”
Aladdin shakes his head furiously. “I may be a thief and a liar, but I’m no murderer! I swear it—I did not kill the king! Caspida, please believe me!”
She doesn’t look at him. Defeated, Aladdin turns to me, and I can only smile sadly.
Darian turns and scans the room, his eyes probing, searching. And then they fall on me. His eyes grow wide.
“Of course,” he murmurs. “The pretty servant girl.”
Without another word he turns, drawing a dagger from his belt. He slices through the sash and grabs the lamp. The world seems to spin around me as my bond with Aladdin, which had grown so familiar to me it was like another limb, snaps like a twig. A new bond forms between me and Darian, strong and absolute, threads weaving together and coiling around us both, until our wills are knit into one. He turns to me, his eyes hungry.
“Monster!” he cries, pointing. “Reveal yourself!”
No point in hiding anymore. If it’s a monster they want, then a monster they shall have.
Every eye in the temple suddenly turns to me as I begin to shift, hair, clothes, and even the ring in my hand turning vaporous. It feels almost good to finally shed my human form and burn with all my power before them. Red smoke roils around my feet, growing and swelling to surround me. My eyes are locked with Aladdin’s, and he watches wretchedly as I am unbound, thread by thread. The court gasps and recoils, and Caspida and her handmaidens regard me with repugnance.
Here I am, mortals. Look and tremble, for I am the jinni of the lamp, the daughter of Ambadya, the monster in your midst.
Up I rise, borne on a cloud of scarlet smoke. I burn with fury and channel my anger through my shape-shifting magic, red lights flashing in my smoke, my eyes glowing like coals, my skin turning translucent to reveal the fire raging inside me. I am a creature of nightmare and shadow.
Shouts of fear ring out, and the nobles stumble over one another to escape the temple. Sulifer calls for his soldiers.
“Seize him!”
The soldiers run to Aladdin, as Pasha and his men fall aside to create a protective perimeter around Caspida, who already stands surrounded by her handmaidens. The girls look up at me with rage and disgust, and brightest of all is Caspida’s quiet, controlled anger, her eyes wounded by betrayal. And it seems it is not Caspida at all who stands before me, but you, Habiba, on the mountaintop, as your death came to swallow you. Their gazes all pierce deeper than they can know, and I realize how stupid I was to ever think them friends. I should have known better than to open myself to such inevitable pain. When did I forget to stay aloof and unattached? When did I let my armor soften, leaving me vulnerable? This is what I get for playing human.
The soldiers approach Aladdin warily, their lances down and angled at his chest. The thief stands still, his gaze still on me, his shoulders slumped in defeat.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice lost amid the screams and shouts, unheard by all but me. He alone can meet my eyes without disgust or fear. He alone still sees the girl inside the monster. But it is not enough.
I hurl myself at the soldiers, whirling around him in a long coil of red smoke, driving the soldiers back. Darian stands gaping, half afraid, half delighted with my display.
“Run!” I say to Aladdin, my voice like the wind, rushing around him, tugging at his cloak. “Go now!”
He bursts into motion but runs toward the soldiers instead of away from them. He reaches Darian, catching him in a wild tackle. Both boys roll down the stairs and land roughly, each with a hand on my lamp. They struggle to wrench it free, Aladdin pinning Darian down and getting in one solid punch to the prince’s face before the soldiers are on him. They drag him off, and Darian scrambles away, the lamp clutched in his hands. Still Aladdin fights on, wrenching a lance away and wielding it with sharp efficiency, driving the butt into one man’s stomach, using the tip to sweep another’s feet out from under him. But their numbers overwhelm him, and when his lance breaks, they pounce, twisting his arms behind him and forcing him to his knees.
Furiously I condense into half tiger, half smoke and fling myself at Darian, claws and fangs bared and glinting, but he holds up the lamp, grinning madly.
“Jinni!” he cries. “I command you to return to your vessel!”
Like a dog that has reached the end of its tether, I am halted in the air as the lamp takes control and pulls me toward itself. Helpless, I shift entirely to smoke and pour inside, as Aladdin calls my name.
I rage inside the lamp, throwing myself against the walls, shifting in a blinding flurry from smoke to water to sand to fire. It’s pointless. Outside the lamp, I sense Aladdin’s pain as the soldiers beat him with the butts of their lances. I sense Caspida’s raging fury at being betrayed. I sense Darian’s elation through the drumbeat of the pulse in his fingers, the lamp ringing out in time with his heart.
“Take him below,” Sulifer commands. “He will die a traitor’s death at dawn.”
No! Horror washes over me like a wave. I hear Aladdin grunt as he’s hauled to his feet, and push my senses as far as they will go, feeling Caspida’s steps as she descends from the dais.
“Caspida,” Aladdin croaks.
“I can explain—”
“Silence,” she says coldly.
I follow Aladdin for as long as I can, but too soon he is dragged beyond my senses and lost to me. Despair churns inside me like nausea, and I curl into smoke on the floor of the lamp. Where is Nardukha now, when I need my freedom most? Why has he not come? Have I been played for a fool? I knew I should not have taken his deal. I knew he couldn’t be trusted.
“I must withdraw for a while,” says Caspida, her voice starting to break. “I have much to think about.”
She and her Watchmaidens turn to go, heading for the back door of the temple, but Sulifer’s voice stops them short.
“I’m afraid I cannot let you go, Your Highness,” he says.
Caspida turns. I can hear the astonishment in her voice. “What did you say?”
“Guards,” says Sulifer softly, “arrest the princess.”
“What is the meaning of this?” Caspida cries.
Sulifer’s voice is hard as steel. “Princess Caspida, you stand accused of complicity with sorcery and communion with demons.”
“This is absurd!”
“Did you not receive the jinni Zahra to your chambers several weeks ago?”
“That proves nothing.” I can hear Caspida’s composure fracturing like ice beneath a hammer. “I did not know her true nature. I knew nothing of—”
“That will be determined by the judges.”
“The judges!” She laughs acidly. “The judges are your leashed dogs, trained to tear apart whomever you point out.”
“Imprison her,” says Sulifer. “And her handmaidens too.”
I sense the soldiers moving toward the girls, but they never reach them. Nessa and Khavar slice through their midst like a sharp and deadly breeze, while Ensi flings poisoned powder in a glittering arc. Soldiers fall, clutching their throats and chests, as the girls’ attack parts them like a scythe through dry grass. Caspida spins free of the soldiers holding her, felling them both with a series of strikes, her bare hands slipping past their defenses to decimate their nerve points, leaving them twitching on the ground. Before Sulifer, Darian, or the remaining guards can make a move, the girls vanish, running from the temple and disappearing into the palace.
“After them,” Sulifer says to Darian in a low voice. “Bring that girl to me, whatever it takes! Wait—give it to me first.”
I can feel Darian’s hesitation, but he slowly gives the lamp over to his father. Sulifer’s will replaces Darian’s, clamping down on my mind like an iron cage.
The prince calls the soldiers to himself, and they run from the temple.
Just like that, all comes undone.
Chapter Twenty-Three
THE DAY PASSES IN A BLUR.
Sulifer meets with members of the council. There are many hushed conversations in the shadows of the corridors. I don’t listen. I withdraw utterly into myself, cowering in my lamp, the darkness around me filled with whispers.
This is your fault.
You failed him.
You’ve killed him.
I don’t try to block out the words, because I know they are true. This is the price of Aladdin’s second wish, the wish I convinced him to make. The price of every lie is that the truth will always come out. I knew that, I knew it, and yet I still led him into it. And for what? Where is Zhian? Where is my freedom? Why am I still bound to my lamp? Like a smith with a lump of twisted metal, I begin forging my fear into anger. Sooner or later, Sulifer will have to call me from the lamp. When he does, I don’t know what I’ll do, Habiba. But I have to do something. I can’t just let them execute Aladdin.
Later that night, when Sulifer is alone in his rooms, poring over a map on his desk, a knock sounds at the door, and Darian enters. I stir from my black fog to listen.
“Well?” Sulifer rises from his desk. “Where is Caspida?”
Darian hesitates a moment, then says softly, “She’s gone. We scoured the palace, but there wasn’t a sign of her or her girls. We believe they fled into the lower city, and the guards will be searching all night.”
Without a word, Sulifer steps forward and backhands him, sending Darian reeling into the wall. He freezes there, his back to his father, clutching the stones as if trying to melt into them.
“Failure,” hisses the vizier. His entire being transforms, as if he has shed his mask of composure to reveal the true man beneath. “I give you every chance in the world to make something of yourself, and you bring me failure!”
“I found the lamp!” says Darian defensively, turning around.
Sulifer grabs the front of his coat and backhands him repeatedly. “Do not talk back to me, boy! You failed to bring the lamp to me the first time. You failed to wed the princess. You failed to bring her to me.” With each statement his blows grow harder, until blood spurts from Darian’s nose. Only then does his father release him, and Darian stumbles away, holding his sleeve to his face.
“Well?” Sulifer snarls.
A bit dazed, Darian drops to his knees and lowers his head. “Thank you, Father,” he says miserably.
“Thank you for what?”
“For disciplining me in my youth. I hear and receive your admonishment.” The words are rote, flat. He has said them many times, I suspect, and the feeling has long been sucked out of them.
“Get up,” says Sulifer in disgust. “I can’t stand to look at you, groveling like a peasant.”
Darian rises silently, wiping his nose, as his father draws out the lamp. I cower inside, pulling in my senses, letting the room go dark. I want no part of this. I wish I were back in the cave. I wish Sulifer would call me forth and make his wishes and be done with me. What is he waiting for?
“Where is the thief?” Sulifer growls.
“In the dungeon, like you asked,” replies Darian softly.
“Good,” Sulifer grunts, his fingers drumming the side of the lamp. The sound is deafening, reverberating through me. “The boy shows more initiative and strength than you ever have.”
“Let me have an hour with him. We’ll see how his strength holds out,” says Darian bitterly.
“Don’t be base. We do not act out of such petty pursuits as revenge, as if we were common rabble. Now leave me and go search for Caspida. Look everywhere—she’s a sly one, like her mother was. Do not fail me again.”
“But—”
“Leave.” The vizier’s voice sinks to a sibilant whisper, and Darian slinks away.
Once his son is gone, Sulifer devotes his full attention to the lamp. He leans against a pillar and turns it over, like a man flirting before going in for a kiss, desire and triumph rolling off him in stifling waves.
“I have you at last,” he sighs. “Let us meet face to face.”
He rubs the lamp, slow and measured. I have no choice but to respond.
I pour from the lamp in a thin stream, spiraling and coiling my way to the floor, where I gather like a fine mist. I shift to cobra and rise, eyes glowering, until I am high as his waist, and then I shift again to girl, scales turning to skin, tail into legs, hood into hair. Black silk studded with diamond flecks drapes over my form, and I feel a weight on my hip, where Aladdin’s ring rests in a hidden pocket. I dress myself with the night and stare at him with eyes as dark and hollow as the spaces between the stars.
“I am the jinni of the lamp,” I intone. “Tell me your wishes three, that I may grant them and be rid of you.”
His eyes feast on me. He takes his time replying, circling me while I stand rigid. As if to prove that I am real, he reaches out and strokes my hair, then trails his fingers down my cheek. I resist the urge to shudder, and when his fingers stray too close, I snap at them with tiger fangs, my teeth closing on empty air.
Quick as a striking snake he slaps me.
The pain is sharp but fades quickly. I shift at once to a black leopard, snarling and
crouched. I cannot hurt him, but I spring anyway, all rage and fangs.
I am thrown back at once, before I ever touch him, skidding away across the floor to land in a heap against the wall. I lose my form, shifting to smoke in an effort to shed the pain that comes from the magical rebuff.
“I have read of your kind,” says Sulifer, watching me pitilessly. “I know all about your vile tricks and treachery. Fiend of fire, hear me well: I rule you. Attempt to cross me and you will suffer for it.”
“And I know of you.” Re-forming into a girl, I narrow my eyes at him. “I know what you want. You dream of raising up the great Amulen Empire from the ashes of the past, when your people ruled all the lands from the east to the west. You want to be conqueror and emperor.” I walk to his desk and spread my hands on his map, the parchment crinkling beneath my palms. Sulifer moves to stand behind me, watching with silent intensity.
“When Roshana ruled from the great city of Neruby,” I say, “it was said no man could reach the edge of her dominion if he rode for a year and never stopped. There were more cities in her empire than there are stars in the sky.” I turn to him. “I can give you anything in this world, Vizier. I can deliver you the nations. And I will do it gladly . . . if you’ll only stop Aladdin’s execution.”
He laughs, a small, contained sound, but coming from him it seems the height of hilarity. “You’ll help me whether you like it or not. I believe that’s the whole point of you.”
Bristling, I snatch the map and rip it in two, letting the pieces drift to the floor. “Then you’re a fool! Say your wishes, and let’s see how well they work out for you! I’ve destroyed smarter men than you with their own words.”
His face hardens, put on guard by my threat.
“But if you free Aladdin,” I say more gently, “I will not twist your wishes. I will serve you in both deed and spirit.”
He pulls the chair from the desk and sits, his fingers strumming thoughtfully on his knee as he watches me. I stand, hands spread, waiting for his reply like the condemned awaiting her sentence.
“No,” he says, and he gives me a small smile.