“After them,” Sulifer says to Darian in a low voice. “Bring that girl to me, whatever it takes! Wait—give it to me first.”
I can feel Darian’s hesitation, but he slowly gives the lamp over to his father. Sulifer’s will replaces Darian’s, clamping down on my mind like an iron cage.
The prince calls the soldiers to himself, and they run from the temple.
Just like that, all comes undone.
Chapter Twenty-Three
THE DAY PASSES IN A BLUR.
Sulifer meets with members of the council. There are many hushed conversations in the shadows of the corridors. I don’t listen. I withdraw utterly into myself, cowering in my lamp, the darkness around me filled with whispers.
This is your fault.
You failed him.
You’ve killed him.
I don’t try to block out the words, because I know they are true. This is the price of Aladdin’s second wish, the wish I convinced him to make. The price of every lie is that the truth will always come out. I knew that, I knew it, and yet I still led him into it. And for what? Where is Zhian? Where is my freedom? Why am I still bound to my lamp? Like a smith with a lump of twisted metal, I begin forging my fear into anger. Sooner or later, Sulifer will have to call me from the lamp. When he does, I don’t know what I’ll do, Habiba. But I have to do something. I can’t just let them execute Aladdin.
Later that night, when Sulifer is alone in his rooms, poring over a map on his desk, a knock sounds at the door, and Darian enters. I stir from my black fog to listen.
“Well?” Sulifer rises from his desk. “Where is Caspida?”
Darian hesitates a moment, then says softly, “She’s gone. We scoured the palace, but there wasn’t a sign of her or her girls. We believe they fled into the lower city, and the guards will be searching all night.”
Without a word, Sulifer steps forward and backhands him, sending Darian reeling into the wall. He freezes there, his back to his father, clutching the stones as if trying to melt into them.
“Failure,” hisses the vizier. His entire being transforms, as if he has shed his mask of composure to reveal the true man beneath. “I give you every chance in the world to make something of yourself, and you bring me failure!”
“I found the lamp!” says Darian defensively, turning around.
Sulifer grabs the front of his coat and backhands him repeatedly. “Do not talk back to me, boy! You failed to bring the lamp to me the first time. You failed to wed the princess. You failed to bring her to me.” With each statement his blows grow harder, until blood spurts from Darian’s nose. Only then does his father release him, and Darian stumbles away, holding his sleeve to his face.
“Well?” Sulifer snarls.
A bit dazed, Darian drops to his knees and lowers his head. “Thank you, Father,” he says miserably.
“Thank you for what?”
“For disciplining me in my youth. I hear and receive your admonishment.” The words are rote, flat. He has said them many times, I suspect, and the feeling has long been sucked out of them.
“Get up,” says Sulifer in disgust. “I can’t stand to look at you, groveling like a peasant.”
Darian rises silently, wiping his nose, as his father draws out the lamp. I cower inside, pulling in my senses, letting the room go dark. I want no part of this. I wish I were back in the cave. I wish Sulifer would call me forth and make his wishes and be done with me. What is he waiting for?
“Where is the thief?” Sulifer growls.
“In the dungeon, like you asked,” replies Darian softly.
“Good,” Sulifer grunts, his fingers drumming the side of the lamp. The sound is deafening, reverberating through me. “The boy shows more initiative and strength than you ever have.”
“Let me have an hour with him. We’ll see how his strength holds out,” says Darian bitterly.
“Don’t be base. We do not act out of such petty pursuits as revenge, as if we were common rabble. Now leave me and go search for Caspida. Look everywhere—she’s a sly one, like her mother was. Do not fail me again.”
“But—”
“Leave.” The vizier’s voice sinks to a sibilant whisper, and Darian slinks away.
Once his son is gone, Sulifer devotes his full attention to the lamp. He leans against a pillar and turns it over, like a man flirting before going in for a kiss, desire and triumph rolling off him in stifling waves.
“I have you at last,” he sighs. “Let us meet face to face.”
He rubs the lamp, slow and measured. I have no choice but to respond.
I pour from the lamp in a thin stream, spiraling and coiling my way to the floor, where I gather like a fine mist. I shift to cobra and rise, eyes glowering, until I am high as his waist, and then I shift again to girl, scales turning to skin, tail into legs, hood into hair. Black silk studded with diamond flecks drapes over my form, and I feel a weight on my hip, where Aladdin’s ring rests in a hidden pocket. I dress myself with the night and stare at him with eyes as dark and hollow as the spaces between the stars.
“I am the jinni of the lamp,” I intone. “Tell me your wishes three, that I may grant them and be rid of you.”
His eyes feast on me. He takes his time replying, circling me while I stand rigid. As if to prove that I am real, he reaches out and strokes my hair, then trails his fingers down my cheek. I resist the urge to shudder, and when his fingers stray too close, I snap at them with tiger fangs, my teeth closing on empty air.
Quick as a striking snake he slaps me.
The pain is sharp but fades quickly. I shift at once to a black leopard, snarling and crouched. I cannot hurt him, but I spring anyway, all rage and fangs.
I am thrown back at once, before I ever touch him, skidding away across the floor to land in a heap against the wall. I lose my form, shifting to smoke in an effort to shed the pain that comes from the magical rebuff.
“I have read of your kind,” says Sulifer, watching me pitilessly. “I know all about your vile tricks and treachery. Fiend of fire, hear me well: I rule you. Attempt to cross me and you will suffer for it.”
“And I know of you.” Re-forming into a girl, I narrow my eyes at him. “I know what you want. You dream of raising up the great Amulen Empire from the ashes of the past, when your people ruled all the lands from the east to the west. You want to be conqueror and emperor.” I walk to his desk and spread my hands on his map, the parchment crinkling beneath my palms. Sulifer moves to stand behind me, watching with silent intensity.
“When Roshana ruled from the great city of Neruby,” I say, “it was said no man could reach the edge of her dominion if he rode for a year and never stopped. There were more cities in her empire than there are stars in the sky.” I turn to him. “I can give you anything in this world, Vizier. I can deliver you the nations. And I will do it gladly . . . if you’ll only stop Aladdin’s execution.”