Aladdin rises and bows. “Princess. I am honored.”
“She’s the most beautiful woman in the city,” says Darian. “Perhaps even the world. When we’re married, maybe I’ll take her on a grand tour of the nations, to compare her to their beauties. What do you say, my love?”
Caspida’s face is serene as porcelain, but her eyes glitter when she smiles at Darian. “Alas, the last time we went sailing, my dear cousin was overcome with seasickness and stayed below deck.”
Darian’s face goes still. “You forget yourself, my love. Go back to the women. It’s not proper for you to share bread with the men.”
She holds his gaze for a moment, and I wonder if her composure will break and she will strike him. But instead she turns and nods to Aladdin, then bids the others good evening and glides back to the women’s side, where her handmaidens are watching silently through the screen.
With a laugh, Darian sits and holds up his cup for more tea. “Women! They think it so romantic to break the rules. But what are we if we don’t hold to tradition, am I right?”
The men laugh and nod in agreement, but Aladdin stares hard at the prince.
“I’ve heard of the wonders of this city all my life,” Aladdin says. “I read about your kings and queens and generals. Can’t recall hearing of you, though. What did you say your name was?”
Darian frowns. “Darian. Son of Sulifer.”
“Oh, right. And who’s he again?”
“The vizier of all Parthenia, the commander of the Amulen military, and brother of the king.” Darian’s fingers tighten around his teacup. When he sets it down, it clinks loudly. “Perhaps you Istaryans need to update your histories.”
Aladdin shrugs. “Oh, right. Him. Yes, I do remember reading something about your vizier. Of course, after meeting him, I’m sure our historians must have been mistaken.”
Silence falls. Darian, cold as winter, says through his teeth, “Oh, do explain.”
“It’s nothing, really. Just something about how he’s been trying to rebuild the Amulen Empire. Sends grandfathers and children out to row his warships, but that he’s lost every battle he’s attempted.” Aladdin smiles. “I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding. Surely he’s not that stupid.”
Oh, gods save us.
“What did you say?” Darian rises quickly to his feet.
Everyone is staring openly in astonishment, and on the other side of the screen, Caspida presses a fist to her lips, her eyes creasing in a wince. I sense Aladdin’s muscles tensing, his anger spiking, his thoughts moving from anger to violence—time to break this party up.
With a wild honk, I launch myself upward, my large wings ponderously belaboring the air, and burst into the circle. My tail and feet overturn dishes and wine goblets, sending men yelling and cursing. I land in front of Aladdin and spread my tail feathers in a marvelous display—really, I’ve outdone myself with this form—and hop this way and that, wings flapping, avian throat screeching and honking. Caspida, laughing, disappears with her handmaidens, and a host of servants appear from the shadows where they have been lurking. They wave their arms and try to drive me out, and out I go, folding my wings and tail and honking at them as if they’re the ones interrupting. Out of the hall and into the courtyard they chase me, while others remain to help clean off the astonished and irate noblemen, including Aladdin. I lose them in the darkness and double back, shifting into a black cat to blend silently into the shadows.
The dinner is over. Darian is fussing at the servants, the nobles are dispersing, and Aladdin is lingering by a column, looking sullen. I run to him and bat his foot.
“Get away, cat,” he says. I hiss in reply and arch my back, and he does a double take. “Oh. It’s you.”
He follows me into the courtyard and around a small pavilion, where we are alone. There, I transform into a human, once again in plain servants’ clothing.
“Hungry?” he asks. “I got something . . . hang on.” From his pocket he pulls out a wadded napkin full of dates, bread, and meat, all mashed into one indiscernible mound. He holds it out.
“Thanks, but . . . that’s disgusting.”
He sighs and returns the mush of food back to his pocket. “Old habit, I guess. When you grow up never knowing where your next meal will come from . . . Did you see him? That bastard Darian was there. I could have throttled him, but there was this bird. Went crazy, smashed right into our dinner.”
“Brainless creatures,” I mutter.
“The men or the peacocks?” says a voice. “It would be a close bet.”
Aladdin and I turn to see Caspida approaching, her face flickering with orange light from the brazier blazing above. Her handmaidens are nowhere to be seen, but when I stretch out with my sixth sense, I feel them lurking in the shadows, watchful and silent.
“Princess,” Aladdin says breathlessly, his eyes clearing a little.
“Prince,” she replies smoothly. “Walk with me?”
He steps forward eagerly, leaving me to trail behind. With his hands clasped behind his back, his pace a bit unsteady, Aladdin allows the princess to lead him up a stair and onto a north-facing portico that looks out to the hills above Parthenia. With the city behind us, the stars are brilliant as diamonds strewn on black silk. A few lights burn in the cedars that grow below them, signs of farms and outposts scattered across the hinterlands.
“Your arrival has caused a stir among my people,” Caspida says at last. Her gown, cut from glittering teal silk, drags behind her, and the light of the lanterns hung from the portico’s arches glints off the elaborate jeweled necklace resting on her collarbone. She is every bit the princess, and beside her Aladdin is . . . every bit the prince. Taller than Caspida by several inches, he walks with his head tilted, so he can look in her eyes while she speaks. “It has been some time since anyone of importance has visited Parthenia. We are not quite the great influence we once were in this world, and I’m afraid many of the larger southern cities find us odd and backward. You might find yourself something of a curiosity to my court.”
“Like a trained monkey,” says Aladdin.
Her lips curl at the corners in amusement. “Once, we received princes and kings and queens from all across the world. Parthenia was a center of learning and art, renowned for its open doors and tolerant court. But our feud with the jinn has weakened us, and it is all we can do to maintain our own borders. Being shut off for so long has made my people suspicious and prejudiced. We fear those we once welcomed, and see jinn lurking in every shadow.”
She pauses and leans over the railing, staring out at the horizon. “I don’t mean to sound pessimistic. I just want you to understand the mood in my court.”