“She really is the Phoenix. And they love her.” He lifts his face and stares at me. “I can’t remember the last time they loved anyone at all. Even my father was hated by many for stirring up trouble.”
Along the opposite railing grow vines thick with white moonflowers. I lean over and look down at the river rushing below, hastening on to the cliffs, where it pours into the waiting sea, like a lovelorn bride running to meet her groom. Aladdin turns away from the little shrine and joins me, his shoulders hunched pensively.
“When I was a boy,” he says softly, “I used to stand on this bridge with my father. We made little wooden boats, and he sewed sails for them. We dropped them into the water, then raced along the bank to see whose left the city first. Once I slipped and fell in, and my father jumped in to save me. He couldn’t even swim. I don’t know how he did it. Later he told me that the goddess Nykora must have pulled us out of the river.” He turns and looks at the shrine. “We left a little boat right there as an offering of thanks. But I never believed in Nykora. People remember my father as a hero who set fires and led marches. I remembered him as a hero because of that day in the river.”
Turning to me, he says, “I’m not a hero, Zahra. I’m not my father.” He turns away and pulls something from his sleeve. It is one of the princess’s daggers, its hilt carved into delicate lilies. How he managed to steal it off her, I can’t imagine. “The night I snuck into the palace to steal the ring, I carried a dagger like this. Much plainer, of course, but the same length and weight.” He balances it on his finger. “After stealing the ring, I snuck into Sulifer’s rooms. I stood over the vizier as he slept and held that blade, trying to work up the nerve to cut his throat.”
Aladdin sighs and drives the dagger into the rail. The hilt quivers. “Maybe I’m a coward. But I couldn’t avenge them. When the ring started pulling at me, I knew it must be enchanted. I thought, if it’s so valuable to the prince that he would keep it locked in his own room, then perhaps I could get my revenge by stealing whatever it led to. When that turned out to be you, I thought, well, here’s my chance. I can just wish for revenge. But as it turns out, I’m too cowardly even for that.”
“Coward is not the word I’d use,” I say softly.
He shrugs and pries the dagger out of the rail. “And now there’s this princess. All my life, I thought she was like the other royals—selfish and spoiled. She’s engaged to Darian, after all, and her father the king is said to be addicted to simmon, wasted away to nothing. Her uncle executed my parents.” He holds up the dagger and stares at his reflection in the blade. “But now she says she’s the Phoenix, that she’s on our side. What am I supposed to do with that?”
“Not everyone is what they seem.”
His eyes turn to me. “Like you?”
I raise a brow. “And what do I seem to be?”
Aladdin studies me, and feeling suddenly shy, I turn away. I pluck a moonflower and pull the petals off one by one, letting them fall into the river.
“You seem sad,” he says at last. “And lonely.”
Letting the flower stem drop, I laugh. “You know nothing about me.”
He shrugs, still watching me closely. “I don’t think you’re the same jinni they sing about at all. I think there’s more to your story. Did you really kill that queen? I don’t think you did.”
A bit startled, I meet his gaze. “I killed her. I am a jinni, Aladdin. Never think I am anything but heartless.”
He looks down, one of his hands moving closer, until the back of one finger comes to rest on my wrist. I stare at it, unable to breathe. My skin warms under that gentle contact. “You saved my life twice already. That doesn’t sound heartless.”
Pulling away quickly, I drop my hands, out of his reach. “You don’t have to say that.”
He frowns, withdrawing his hand. “Maybe I want to. Even a thief may have honor, and even a jinni may have a heart.”
The roaring of the river fills my ears. Avoiding his gaze, I cross to the other side of the bridge, staring north at the dark shadow of Mount Tissia. I struggle to swallow the knot in my throat.
I need a plan. A plan to get inside the palace.
A plan to cool the embers Aladdin’s touch stirred to life.
Turning around, I find him watching me, cautious and curious.
“You should make a wish.”
At once he turns skeptical. “What?”
A part of me hates myself for feeding his obsession. That part wants me to tell him he’s haunted by the dead, that I know how that feels, that I’ve drunk that poison many times. I’m sickened with it even now. But I don’t, because I am a selfish spirit, and looking up at the dying moon, I can almost feel the bond between me and the lamp snapping once and for all.
“The princess,” I say. “She’s the heir to the throne, right? Whoever marries her will be the most powerful man in the kingdom.” I turn and gaze at the statue of Nykora. “He could do whatever he wanted. He would command the vizier, the military, the guards here in the city . . .”
I meet his gaze and find him rigid, his body tense as a drawn bow.
“This is it, don’t you see? You don’t have to kill anyone, but you can still get your revenge. I can help you.”
“What are you saying?” he asks.
I smile and lean in to whisper, “I can get you into the palace. I can give you power, wealth, and titles. I can help you win the princess, and in doing so, win your revenge. What would anger Darian more than seeing his enemy take his bride? What would be sweeter than seeing this vizier forced to bow before you, his prince?”
Aladdin holds his breath, and I can see that he’s caught my meaning. Not for the first time, I feel truly monstrous. I’ve always hated the jinn for being cruel and selfish. Do you remember how I once told you that I wasn’t like them? But I know in the space where I have no heart that I’m no different at all.
I’m a very good jinni, and that’s a very bad thing.
But freedom, Habiba . . . For freedom, I might become anything. It terrifies me to think how far I will go for it. But I’ve never wanted anything so badly before, so I swallow my conscience and nod encouragingly at my master.
“It could work,” he says softly. “Zahra, you’re brilliant.”
I straighten, my hands beginning to tingle. “Then say the words.”
Aladdin pauses, takes a breath, steeling himself. When he speaks, his voice burns with conviction.
“Zahra, I wish to be made a prince.”
Two: The Princess