He kisses me forcefully, stepping away from the wall, and I’m barely able to grab Zhian’s jar before it’s out of reach. No bigger than my hand, it’s simple to let it slip down my sleeve. The jinn prince rages inside, but I ignore him and focus on the human trying to force his tongue down my throat. I can feel myself hovering on the very edge of the lamp’s boundary. Ripples of smoke race under my skin as I strain to keep from shifting, the effort bringing tears to my eyes.
I shove Darian hard, and he shouts as he slams into the wall of bottled jinn. A few topple from their shelves, and panic springs into his eyes as he struggles to catch them all.
“Bleeding gods, you whore!” he growls. “Are you mad?”
“My master is probably looking for me,” I gasp. “I should go.”
I turn and flee the room, letting out a soft, relieved cry as the lamp’s pull on me slackens. Darian pursues too quickly for me to shift into a more speedy form. Zhian’s jar rattling in my sleeve, I hurry through the dark crypt and up the stairs, the prince close on my heels.
“Stop!” he shouts. “Or I’ll have you whipped!”
Sister! Zhian cries. Set me free and I will devour the wretch!
Shutting them both from my mind, I take the steps three at a time, barely keeping my feet as my skirts tangle around my legs.
When I reach the corridor on the main level, I put on a burst of speed, but Darian catches up to me. He grabs my arm, yanking me backward.
“Whore!” he snarls, slamming me into the wall so hard stars burst in my eyes. I hiss at him, the tiger in me threatening to emerge and rip out his throat, but a shout brings me back to myself.
“Zahra!”
I turn my head and see Aladdin running toward us. When he sees that it’s Darian holding me roughly against the wall, his face twists into such rage that he seems unrecognizable.
He crashes into Darian before the prince has a chance to say anything. The two slam into the ground, Aladdin throwing a punch that cracks against Darian’s jaw.
“Stop it!” I cry. “Prince Rahzad!”
The boys ignore me, rolling and thrashing like dogs.
Leave them! Zhian roars. Let me out!
“How dare you touch her?” Aladdin spits, grabbing Darian by the hair and pressing the prince’s face into the stone floor. “You bastard!”
“I didn’t give her anything she didn’t ask for,” Darian hisses back. “Get off me or I’ll have you executed!”
I start to step in, but a cold voice behind me makes all three of us freeze.
“Darian.”
Turning, I see the vizier standing in the shadows, his face a mask of cold fury.
Aladdin lets go of the prince, who scrambles to his feet, his face reddening.
“Father, I—”
“My own son, scrapping in the halls like a dog over a bitch in heat? Disgusting.”
Darian drops his head, shooting Aladdin a dark look.
“As for you, Rahzad,” Sulifer says, his icy gaze sliding to Aladdin, “is this how the princes of Istarya behave in the houses that grant them hospitality?”
Aladdin, no fear in his eyes, spits on the floor before rising haughtily to his feet. “It’s how we behave toward cowards who can’t keep their hands to themselves.”
Sulifer’s gaze flickers to me disinterestedly. “Darian, straighten yourself up and come with me. Prince Rahzad, perhaps it is time you retire for the evening. I think our Amulen wine has proven too strong for your senses.”
Darian smirks at that and gives us both threatening looks before joining his father. The two stride away, Darian slightly limping.
“You didn’t need to interfere,” I tell Aladdin.
He turns to me, still panting. “He had his hands all over you.”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
His eyes fall away, his hands clenching at his sides. “Is it true? Did you ask him to join you out here?”
Tell him yes, I think. With one word, I could sever whatever’s between us. I could release Zhian and have no regrets behind me.
But . . . can I do that to Aladdin? Can I hurt him like that? And can I deny the truth growing inside me?
“Why are you here?” I say at last. “You’re supposed to be with Caspida, offering your hand in marriage.”
Aladdin’s mouth opens, and he stares at me for a moment with hurt naked in his gaze.
“I just did,” he mutters.
Then, his eyes clouding with anger, he storms past me and disappears around a corner before I can utter a word. I stare after him, my gut roiling with dismay and confusion.
You fool of a jinni! LET ME OUT!
Startled from my thoughts, I pull Zhian’s jar from my sleeve and turn it over. I can easily imagine him swirling inside, a cloud of smoke and fury.
Be silent, Zhian. I’ll decide when you’re let out, and right now, you’re not inspiring my merciful side.
He howls and hurls insults, which I try to ignore as I trail after Aladdin.
I have Zhian at last. At any moment I could break open the jar and free him, fulfilling my end of the bargain and claiming my freedom. But what happens next? The humiliation of being captured by the humans will have made Zhian furious. He’s had two moons to feed his hatred of humans, and by now it is ravenous, destructive. If I let him out now, Parthenia will not stand a chance. He’ll destroy the city from the inside out, regardless of my deal with his father.
I have to release him outside the city walls and trust that the wards will protect everyone inside from his inevitable wrath.
Aladdin heads back toward his rooms, and I follow at a distance, my chest feeling emptier than ever.
It’s time to say goodbye.
Chapter Seventeen
I FIND HIM IN OUR ROOMS, standing in the courtyard. A few candles burn in colorful lanterns the palace staff has hung in the fig trees, lighting the grass with soft blues and reds. Aladdin leans against a pillar, his back to the door, and if he hears me enter, he does not show it. I pause only to drop Zhian’s jar in my bedchamber; I can’t bear to hear his threats and curses right now.
Aladdin doesn’t flinch or even acknowledge me when I arrive at his side. His coat lies draped over the divan behind him, leaving him in a simple white kurta, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His turban lies rumpled on the ground.
His gaze troubles me. All night he has been bright as a flame, smiling, dancing, flirting. That boy is gone. The Aladdin before me looks haunted. His jaw is rigid, his hair messy, his hands clenched so tight the tendons in his forearms stand out like ropes.