I lift a shoulder in begrudging agreement.
“I don’t think you’re as helpless as you want people to think.”
“What does that mean?”
Aladdin stares at me for a long moment, then says softly, “When I was little, and the guards would come around and beat my father until he paid them off, my grandmother used to take me onto the roof of our house so I didn’t have to watch. I asked her why my father resisted the guards when they always won in the end. Why didn’t he just save himself the pain and pay them what they wanted? She told me that sometimes, you can’t choose what happens to you, but you can choose who you become because of it. That’s why my father fought back. He knew in the end, it wouldn’t change anything. But he wouldn’t let the circumstances control who he was.” His eyes turn stormy. “I always thought there’s no freedom in fighting back—just death. What’s the point of fighting for a lost cause? You’re like my father. You fight back.”
“And you think I’m a fool for it?”
“No. I think . . . you’re brave.”
“Brave?” I choke out a laugh. “Are you forgetting who I am? Or why your people hide inside these walls, fearing the jinn? I am the—what do your songs say?—the Fair Betrayer. Tell me, O Master, what is brave about betraying someone you love?”
“Love?”
I freeze, wondering how I could have been so foolish as to let the word slip. But it’s too late now. I glare at Aladdin, as if it were his fault, as if he’d tricked me into unveiling my secret.
“Forget about it,” I mutter.
“What happened that day? Did you really betray that queen and start this war?”
“Yes, I did.” Though not in the way he imagines. I loved you, Habiba, and in doing so, I betrayed you. The rules were clear, the cost inevitable. Even so, I was arrogant, thinking myself so clever to befriend a human and dream of peace between our races. I thought I was above the law that held all jinn captive, imagined I could bridge the chasm that had separated man and jinn since the dawn of this world. But I learned my lesson, at the cost of you, your people, your city. And the consequences of my foolishness are still echoing through the centuries.
I slip behind Aladdin, retreating from any further prying on his part. Soon, I will have rescued Zhian, and Nardukha will grant me my freedom.
And once I am free to run, not even the shadows of the past will be able to catch me.
Chapter Twelve
ANOTHER WEEK PASSES. The moon is nearly full. I have yet to find any sign of Zhian.
I am growing desperate.
Aladdin is passed around the court like an exotic pet, from this clique to that, invited to games of cards and camel races. I trail after him, feeding him bits of etiquette when I can, but soon find he doesn’t need it. He told me he was adaptable, but I underestimated him. He blends in perfectly, his manners charming, his conversation fascinating.
“Shall I tell you the story of how I and my two brothers stole a roc’s egg?” he tells a group of young noblewomen one night over a game of dice and tiles. They giggle eagerly, and he launches into a ridiculous story. I stand behind Aladdin, as usual, ready to fetch him wine or whatever else he fancies. As his tale grows wilder and wilder, I watch the faces of his listeners as they move from wonder to shock to horror.
“Higher and higher we climbed, with the Great Falls of Oznar thundering around us, and the rocs screaming as they dove at us.” Aladdin leans in, and his wide-eyed audience holds its breath. “But don’t forget! We carried with us arrows made of ivory, which is of course the only thing known to kill a roc. We fired as we climbed, holding them at bay, until at last we reached the summit, where the mother roc waited on her nest. A nest as vast as this palace!” He spreads his hands.
Gasps rise all around, and I blink, catching myself wrapped up in his story. Aladdin is silver-tongued indeed, and though his stories grow more improbable each night, he never fails to draw a crowd. Where he draws these fantasies from, I cannot say. I may have invented Istarya, but Aladdin brings it to life. There is so much more to this thief than I had imagined, and the nobles are not the only ones who begin to fall under his spell.
Too often I find myself listening raptly to his tales when I should be on the watch for Zhian, a realization that fills me with alarm and confusion. I remind myself why I am here, what I am seeking.
I remind myself of the cost of failure.
“Are you completely shameless?” I ask Aladdin later that evening, after the gaming and drinking and storytelling finally end, somewhere well north of midnight. Vigo walks with us, he and Aladdin both tipsy and leaning on each other. The Tytoshi boy has grown accustomed to Aladdin and me chatting as equals, and asks no questions, but his assumptions are plain in the way he looks at us and smirks.
“What?” asks Aladdin, eyes wide with innocence.
“She was twice your age, and you had her blushing like a virgin.”
He shrugs, throwing an arm around Vigo’s shoulders. “I liked her necklace. It was a fine necklace, wasn’t it, Vigo?”
“Very fine. So fine,” slurs Vigo.
“See? Vigo liked her necklace too. Why, I liked it so much . . .” With a wink, Aladdin pulls down the sash around his waist just enough to reveal a flash of ruby.
“You stole it.” I run a hand over my face.
“You have got to teach me how to do that,” says Vigo.
“Here,” says Aladdin. “Let’s practice with Zahra. Zahra, put on this necklace.”
“Oh, look!” I cry, stopping and opening a door. “Vigo’s room.”
“Mmhm.” Vigo groggily claps Aladdin on the shoulder. “Horse racing tomorrow—you going to come, Rahzad?”
“Definitely.”
I place a hand against the small of Vigo’s back and propel him to his door. “Good night, Vigo.”
The Tytoshi stumbles inside, and I shut the door, wincing a little when a loud thump sounds inside.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” I say. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”
I slip an arm around Aladdin and support him the rest of the way. He coils a strand of my hair around his finger and murmurs, “Where would I be without you, Zahra?”
He is so close that his breath warms my neck. “You’d be in the desert, a pile of bleached bones, that’s where.”
“Mm. Right. Have I ever told you thanks, by the way? I don’t thank you enough. Vigo thinks you’re my concubine. Did you know that?”
“Here we are!” I say, a bit too loudly, as I shoulder open the door and pull him into our chambers.