Isn’t that the most important thing?
• • •
I spend the rest of the night trying to think of ways to free Zhian, but my thoughts rebel, continually returning to the look in Aladdin’s eyes when I finally told him what my freedom would cost him.
Dawn brings mourning and wailing that echoes eerily through the palace, coupled with the unceasing blast of horns on the outer ramparts, announcing to the city that the king has died. Khavar and Ensi arrive at our door, cloaked and hooded, and I wake Aladdin. The girls have brought trays of hot tea and fruit, bread, and cheese, but most of it goes untouched as they sit with us and tell us they have come at Caspida’s behest.
“The next few days will be crucial,” says Ensi. “Sulifer controls the army and most of the court, and this announcement of Caspida’s engagement to Rahzad will be met with much resistance.”
“We are here to protect you, Prince Rahzad,” says Khavar, stroking her snake.
Aladdin looks a bit skeptically at the two slim girls. “I think I can take care of myself, but thanks for the offer.”
“We’re not going anywhere, so get used to us.”
Ensi leans forward. “We’re going to announce the betrothal immediately following the king’s burial. According to the decree Malek signed before he died, Caspida is to marry Darian tomorrow. Instead, she will marry you.”
I suck in a breath. The king’s burial . . . Darian told me the kings are buried in the hills north of the city. That could be my chance to set Zhian free, safely outside the city gates.
Khavar glares at Aladdin. “Let me make one thing clear. Any one of us would die for Caspida. Any one of us would kill for her.” She raises her arm, and her snake slithers out of her sleeve and raises its head to stare at Aladdin. “You hurt her just once, and it’s the last thing you’ll do. You won’t see us coming. You won’t get a second chance.”
Aladdin swallows and leans back, looking to Ensi. The other girl meets his eyes steadily.
“How fortunate she is,” he says evenly, “to have friends like you.”
The girls seem to accept this and exchange looks before Khavar says, “The funeral procession is leaving soon. We are all expected to be in attendance. We will wait here while you change, and accompany you outside.”
Aladdin nods and looks relieved to get away, disappearing into his bedchamber. Ensi slips a knife from her sleeve and picks at her nails. I clear away the breakfast dishes, listening to the girls’ hushed conversation.
“I like him,” Ensi says.
“I don’t,” Khavar replies.
“You don’t like anyone.”
For a moment, I imagine what it would be like to truly be Aladdin’s servant. To become part of this household, perhaps even join the Watchmaidens in guarding the royal family. But with a shudder, I turn my thoughts away.
I have been among these people too long, and their human problems and drama have ensnared me too deeply. I remind myself how fleeting they are. I blink, and they will be gone. Time has a different meaning for me, and these events that seem so monumental in the moment will one day be nothing more than a line in a scroll. These humans are but letters to be inked into history. A hundred years from now, I will be free. I will have forgotten their names and faces, and the struggles they have will not matter. Time has a way of burying things, shifting like the desert and swallowing entire civilizations, erasing them from map and memory. Always, in the end, everything returns to dust.
There is no point in pretending I am anything other than what I am. It is time to move on.
It is time to claim my freedom.
Chapter Nineteen
THE PARTHENIAN MONARCHS lie buried in massive stone vaults built into the side of a steep cliff north of the city. Many of the tombs are weathered and chipped, the elaborate friezes carved on them worn away to vague forms. The tomb of Malek is still only partially constructed, and stone chips and unfinished friezes attest to the ongoing work. A great slab is fixed in place over the tomb’s entrance, and Caspida stands before it, looking lonely even in the midst of the crowd. She stands a little apart, dressed in black robes that flutter in the wind.
The day is hot and the air heavy. Clouds roil over the sea, advancing slowly toward us. Seabirds wheel overhead, crying out warning of the oncoming storm. Nobles stand fanning themselves under the shade of cypresses and oaks studding the hillside, and wailers stand in front of the tomb, crying out in ululating tones. They are surrounded by black-cloaked Eristrati, who watch for jinn, and I spot Vigo and Nessa roaming the perimeter, their flutes trilling softly to enchant any jinn that might try to sneak into the humans’ midst. I have conjured a silk scarf tight around my head and ears to block the music; though they cannot bottle me because of my bond with the lamp, their melodies can nonetheless put me into a trance, exposing my true nature. The jinn keep their distance; I cannot sense a single one among the trees and rocks. They’re waiting, I’m sure, until tonight, when my time runs out and Nardukha orders them to attack the city.
We stop a short distance from the tomb. Aladdin watches Caspida, his face unreadable. He’s dressed head to toe in black, his head uncovered. His hair, combed neatly this morning, has been tousled by the driving wind. Khavar and Ensi stand by, rigid and alert. Ensi’s eyes water, but she blinks her tears away.
I hang back until the crowd is focused on the burial ceremony, then slip into the brush and make my way across the hill. Zhian’s jar rattles under my skirt, his endless stream of demands prying at my thoughts.
Set me free! What are you waiting for, you stupid creature!
“You!” cries a sharp voice. “Where are you going?”
I turn and see a veiled Eristrati glowering at me, his grip tightening on his spear.
“Oh, um . . .” I wince and point at the bushes. “I’ll just be a minute. Please. I can’t hold it any longer.”
The man coughs uncomfortably, then nods and mutters something gruff along the lines of “Make it fast.”
Don’t worry. I intend to.
I find a small grassy clearing, not far from the river where I bathed Aladdin’s wound that first, wild night, exactly 142 steps from the lamp. It’s a pretty spot, overlooking the city and the sea beyond, the trees ripe with olives. I’m out of hearing of the jinn charmers, so I lower the silk from my head and let the wind tangle my hair.
Drawing a deep breath, I pull Zhian’s jar from a satchel conjured beneath my skirt. Letting the satchel disintegrate into smoke, I hold the jar in both hands as excitement pounds through me, almost like a heartbeat.
Do it, Zhian urges. Let me out, Zahra. Let me out.
Listen to me first, I demand. There are jinn charmers out here—did you hear them? They are playing, filling the hills with their charms. You must not go near the humans, or we will both end up right back where we started.