“You, um, wouldn’t mind waiting outside, would you?”
“We are under strict orders not to take our eyes off you,” replies a stoic man.
Aladdin rubs his face. “Yes, I know that. But look, I’m the only one here. If I need you, I’ll yell or something.”
The man simply stares blankly back at him.
With a groan of frustration, Aladdin adds, “You do realize that after tomorrow, I’ll be your king?”
The guards exchange uncertain looks, then acquiesce begrudgingly, streaming out through the door. I flit away and land on a ledge along the wall.
Aladdin sighs and disrobes down to a white cloth around his waist, careful not to set down the lamp. This he strings onto a chain around his neck, and then he sinks into the first pool. He vanishes beneath the surface, bubbles streaming around him, and does not emerge for several long seconds. I begin to worry that he won’t come back up at all, that he will go the same route as so many of my masters who came to regret their wishes—but then he bursts upward, shaking his head and sending water spraying. He glides across the pool and sits on the opposite side in a shaft of sunlight, stretching his arms along the tiled rim. His head falls back, and he shuts his eyes.
“I know you’re there,” he says. “You might as well come down.”
I fly to the edge of the pool and shift to human, dressed in a thin white kurta that comes to my knees. I dangle my legs in the water.
“For some kind of all-powerful jinni from the dawn of time,” says Aladdin, his eyes opening a crack to peer at me, “you’re damn predictable.”
I lift one foot from the water, splashing him. “You might want to dunk again. You still smell like you sleep with goats.”
He swipes a hand across the water, dousing me, and I shriek and tumble into the water, where I drench him with a series of splashes. He sputters and holds up his hands defensively, then with a roar, launches off the side of the pool and catches me around the waist, dragging me under the surface.
For a moment we are weightless, eyes open and locked underwater, flowers drawn down with us, swirling around us in a current of white bubbles. My hair floats around us both like black silk. His hands are still around my waist, mine pressed against his bare chest. My lamp drifts between us.
Aladdin plants his feet against the bottom of the pool and kicks off, pushing us upward to burst through the surface. He gasps in air and shakes the wet hair from his eyes. Without pulling away, we float in silence, and I cannot take my gaze from him. Water runs down his cheeks and lips, dripping from his jaw. A lock of his hair is stuck to his forehead, and I gently lift it away, curling it around my finger before letting it go.
“What are we doing?” he whispers, pulling me closer.
I cannot reply. I don’t trust my own voice. He brings his forehead down to rest against mine, and everything outside this pool and this moment ceases to exist. All that matters is the gentle sound of our breathing, our reflections on the water, the feel of his hands around me.
He is the sun, and I am the moon. We must stay apart or the world will be thrown out of balance. But what I must admit is that I do understand the insanity that drives humans to chase happiness they will never grasp. Because I feel it too, Habiba. Every time I try to pull away, I find myself drawn back to him. Even now, on the eve of his wedding, I cannot let go, no matter how many times I tell myself that I must.
It will all be over tomorrow, I think. He will marry Caspida, and surely by then, Nardukha will have set me free.
I rest my head on his shoulder, feeling his heart beating against me. I wish I could gather time around us, slowing the minutes, making them last a lifetime.
“I was born on the island kingdom of Ghedda,” I whisper. This is a story I never told even to you, Habiba. I tell it now only because I cannot bear to leave him without the truth, knowing only half of me. I raise my head and meet his eyes. “That was more than four thousand years ago. I was the eldest daughter of a wise and generous king.”
Aladdin stares at me, his eyes soft and curious, encouraging me to go on.
“When I was seventeen, I became queen of Ghedda. In those days, the jinn were greater in number, and the Shaitan held greater sway over the realms of men. He demanded we offer him twenty maidens and twenty warriors in sacrifice, in return for fair seas and lucrative trade. I was young and proud and desired, above all else, to be a fair ruler. I would not bow to his wishes, so he shook our island until it began to fall into the sea.”
I shudder, and Aladdin draws me closer.
“I climbed to the alomb at the top of the Mountain of Tongues, and there offered myself to the Shaitan, if he would only save my city from the sea.” My voice falls to a whisper, little more than a ripple on the water. “So he took me and made me jinn and put me in the lamp. And then he caused the Mountain of Tongues to erupt, and Ghedda was lost to fire. For he had sworn only to save my people from the sea, not from flame.”
Falling silent, I wait to see what Aladdin will do. Call me naïve for trusting the word of the Shaitan? Tell me I should have bowed to Nardukha’s wishes in the first place?
But Aladdin says nothing.
Instead, he lowers his face and softly kisses the side of my neck, his mouth trailing up to the skin behind my ear. Goose bumps break across my skin, and I turn my face to meet his lips with mine. This kiss is gentler than our last, long and slow and restrained. It is a kiss of longing. A kiss of farewell. His hands tighten around my waist, pulling me against him. We drift in a slow circle, sending out ripples that make the floating flowers bob and dip.
“You keep so many secrets,” he murmurs. “I could spend the rest of my life discovering you.” He tucks my hair behind my ear, his eyes devouring my face. “Of course you were a queen. Of course you sacrificed yourself for your people. You did all you could, Zahra. You can’t blame yourself for what the Shaitan did. He would have done it anyway.”
“I should have died with my people.”
“If you had, I would have never met you.” He kisses me again, more deeply, his hands twining in my hair. I let his touch wash away the past.
It is Aladdin who pulls away first, with a soft, husky laugh.
“This is crazy. I’m getting married tomorrow,” he says.
I nod and lay my head on his shoulder.
“It’s not too late,” he says. “Zahra, I—”
“Sh.” I lay a finger across his lips. “Don’t say it. You will marry Caspida, and you will learn to love each other. You will live a happy life, long after my lamp has passed to new hands.”
“I won’t make my third wish,” he says. “That’s the answer! If I don’t make the wish, you can stay here in the palace for as long as you want. You’ll never have to go back to your lamp. We can fight off anyone who tries to take you from me.”