I shot a concerned look at Aliyah. “Will that affect the competition?”
Lalana had to win to live in the palace as the storyteller. Second place wouldn’t cut it.
Aliyah’s brow furrowed. She flung herself back onto the cushion, frowning up at the ceiling. “It might, if someone else really good enters.”
“I’m sorry,” Lalana said unhappily. “I’m sorry if this ruins everything.”
“No, of course it doesn’t.” I said with more confidence than I felt, wrapping a consoling arm around her shoulders. I hoped I was right. With her fingers broken like that, though, I doubted there was any instrument she could play at all. And if music was a big part of the competition…
“It’s such a small thing,” Aliyah said in frustration.
Her words triggered a memory. What Lalana needed was just a small enhancement…
I slowly turned to look at Tarak. His violet eyes narrowed as they met mine. “You haven’t thought this through,” he hissed.
“Yerusha,” I said, not looking away from the djinni’s glare. “Is there somewhere my friend and I can talk in private?”
Tarak glowered at me across the table. His violet eyes were still narrowed, and with the smoke from the hookah drifting up in front of him, he looked more like a spirit than ever before.
I swallowed. “Tarak–”
“You realize you’ve still got a wish left?”
“I know, but–”
“No one voluntarily gives away a bound spirit before using all their wishes, Zadie. It just isn’t done. Just like no one ever uses their wishes to free a spirit.”
“It’s just one wish, Tarak. I needed you when I was trying to prove my place at the palace, now Lana needs you for the same reason. I thought you’d be on board seeing as how you haven’t stopped fawning over her since you met.”
“Clearly you’ve forgotten the final rule.”
I blinked. “What?”
Tarak drummed his fingers on the table. “Once you take the ring off, everything you wished for will be gone. Remember?”
I hadn’t remembered. But I took a deep breath. “That doesn’t matter.”
Tarak regarded me suspiciously, his fingers still tapping out a fast, irritable rhythm on the table. “That means no more sword fighting knowledge. No more reading An Nimivah. No more chatting to rocs.”
I paused. I didn’t want to lose those skills, of course. Still… “Tarak, Lalana’s my sister. None of those things are as important to me as she is.”
The djinni slumped lower in his chair, still scowling. “I don’t believe you.”
“Look…” I took another deep breath. “The reason I wanted to talk to you first… I was thinking about using my last wish to set you free.”
Tarak inhaled sharply through his teeth with a hiss.
Maybe I shouldn’t have told him. Now he’ll be even more against making Lalana his new master.
“But Lalana needs you. She needs the wishes if she’s going to win this competition. We can even use them to change the way she looks. I can’t see how else she can be with me in the palace, and she’s got nowhere else–”
“Do it.”
I stared at him.
He glared back at me. “You heard me,” he said quickly. “I said you should do it. Give her the ring.”
“That’s it? No more warnings about what I stand to lose? About what you stand to lose? This is your freedom we’re talking about–”
“Believe it or not, Zadie, you’re not the only one capable of making a selfless decision.”
I could only stare at him.
“Now, if it’s okay with you, I’m going back into the ring. I’ll have to when you take it off anyway.”
“Tarak…”
But the djinni disappeared back into the ring before I could finish, leaving only the faintest hint of lilac smoke in the air. I twisted the ring around on my finger so the amethyst was on the outside for once. The star-shaped stone glinted in the dim light.
“Thank you,” I said softly, hoping he could still hear me.
The ring warmed gently against my skin.
I walked back into the other room, where Yerusha was wrapping a bundle of material in paper. I guessed they found a costume they were happy with.
“Zadie!” Lalana smiled. She glanced behind me. “What happened to Tarak?”
I bit down on my lip. Before I could change my mind, I wrenched the ring off my finger and strode swiftly over to her, taking hold of her hand and placing the ring in her palm. Her broken fingers felt awkward beneath my hands.
“Zadie, what–”
“Put this on,” I said firmly, “and don’t worry about how you’re going to win the competition.”
Understanding dawned on my sister’s face. She slipped the ring on. I winced when she struggled to get it over one of her ruined knuckles.
Aliyah stared at me, then hit my shoulder, harder than perhaps she meant to. I gave her an affronted look.
“You’re too good for that sultan, Z,” she said gruffly. “Astaran is lucky to have you.”
My cheeks heated. “It’s nothing,” I mumbled.
It was strange. I didn’t feel any different. I flexed my fingers. The only thing that felt odd was the bare spot where the ring had sat. I hadn’t realized I’d grown so used to the feel of metal on my finger. There was a paler patch where it had been previously, an echo of it marked on my skin.
I clenched and flexed my fingers again.
“C’mon,” Aliyah said, still in a low growl that swelled with emotion. “Let’s get back. We need to start rehearsing.”
“Thank you, Yerusha,” Lalana said sweetly. “The costume is just perfect.”
“Come by tomorrow evening to see her rehearsal,” Aliyah added. “It’d be good to hear what you think of her performance. After all, you’re the best.”
We traipsed back out into the streets, the light dazzlingly bright after the dark interior of The Gilded Lily. The afternoon sun was lower in the sky. I felt oddly light.
I was no longer the master of a djinni. Tarak would no longer be listening to my every conversation, or there in the blink of an eye when I needed him. I didn’t regret my decision one bit, but I still felt like part of me was missing.
Around us, stallholders fried nuts in honey and poured small glasses of mint tea. Fires burned more brightly. Come evening, they’d be warding off the chill as much as celebrating the spirits. To our left, a man held a sword aloft, and I stared as he inserted the long, narrow blade down his throat. To our right, a woman dressed in black played a long flute, two golden eyes and a flickering tongue peeking out from a woven basket on the ground in front of her.
I wished I could stay and explore it all with Lalana, but I’d promised Kassim I would be back for tea with Safiyya and her betrothed, Prince Diyan, who’d arrived ahead of the wedding to see the storytelling festival. Since the winning storyteller from last year would be giving a performance, perhaps they would be useful to study.
I glanced over at my sister, her face bright as she watched the snake sashay up and out of the basket in time to the melody. It was nice to see her smiling. After losing Ambar, it was a miracle she could smile.
Spirits, it was a miracle she was even here.
“A fresh tart for the pretty lady?” A street seller thrust a bronze platter in front of my nose, one of the tarts already in his hand.
My nostrils twitched at the sweet, buttery scent of honey and pastry. My eyes dropped to the platter. They were the same kind of tarts I’d tried my first night in Kisrabah, which Safiyya had told me were her favorites. They’d quickly become mine, too.
I grinned and turned to call out to Lalana. “You have to try these.” I reached for one of the tarts, but the seller whipped the platter away from me, holding out the tart he’d already picked out.
Lalana joined me at my side. “What are they?”
“They’re stuffed with honey and almonds. They only make them here in Kisrabah.” I
reached for the proffered tart.
But the seller frowned, pulling it back out of reach and looking slowly between me and Lalana.
“Two, please,” I said firmly. “Oh, wait… Aliyah, do you want a tart?”
The seller took a step backward as the thief queen joined us. She reached silently for the tart in the seller’s hand, but he yanked it back again.
He gave an anxious smile. “This one is perfect. Only for the most perfect lady.” Again, his eyes flicked between me and my sister.
“Well, we all know which one of us that is.” Rolling my eyes, I nudged Lalana in the ribs.
She flushed, but didn’t reach for the tart.
Another waft of the buttery, honey scent reached my nostrils, and my stomach let out a loud rumble. “Oh, I don’t care which one is the most perfect! We’ll take any three, please.” I fished into my pocket for some tiny copper dinars to pay him with.
Still, the seller didn’t move, his mouth opening and closing.
“Why don’t I have that one then?” Aliyah said sweetly. She grabbed for the tart in his hand.
“No!” The seller twisted around, holding the tart out of her reach. “For the perfect lady!”
Aliyah’s expression turned feral. “A perfect tart for a perfect lady? I bet it’s delicious.”
The seller’s face paled. “Of course.”
The smile Aliyah returned made my blood turn cold. “If it’s so delicious, maybe you should take a bite of it first?”
The seller went very still. Then he dropped the entire platter of tarts to the ground and ran.
Chapter Four
I stared at the platter on the ground, the sand coating the sticky tarts, the crash of metal still ringing in my ears.
Aliyah disappeared straight after the seller in a cloud of dust and flash of her dark knives.
“Zadie!” Lalana gripped my arm. “We should go after them.”
I frowned at her. “Are you sure you want–”
But my sister had already spun on her heel and flown after Aliyah, her shining hair streaming behind her. Cursing, I hurtled after her.
My slippered feet pounded against the sand and stone streets of the city, and I wished I weren’t still wearing the fine dress I had put on for our visit to the Order of the Scholars earlier. My skirts tangled about my legs, snagging on the corners of stalls.
The winding streets felt chaotic at the best of times, but in the middle of the festival, I could have easily believed we were in the spirit world as I wove in between men juggling swords, storytellers with crowds gathered around their feet, and children racing between them all.
Thick, perfumed smoke filled the alleyways, flames dancing up on almost every corner, and my spine tingled.
Lalana was still ahead of me, visible more by the turn of heads in her direction than my being able to pick her out of the crowd. She twisted in and out of the performers, stallholders, and city dwellers like a dancer.
I was less graceful. Careering into a group gathered around a man cloaked in black, I shouted apologies as I stumbled into the press of bodies, then was forced to leap over a pot of glowing coals in their center.
My skirts trailed beneath me like wings, and I prayed they didn’t catch alight in the heat. My skin tingled as the hot smoke licked my legs.
Convinced this was part of the act, the angry shouts of the crowd turned to cheers. I thudded to the ground, clearing the smoking pot but losing a slipper in the process.
My bare foot scuffed against the ground and I grimaced. I mustn’t think about what I’m standing in. Instead, I focused on my sister, her telltale shining hair whipping out behind her like a flag to follow.
Rounding another corner, I squinted through the colorful smoke billowing out like clouds. She was still a way ahead of me.
Spirits, when did she get so fast?
She turned sharply down a narrow alleyway to our left. So I guessed she hadn’t lost sight of Aliyah and the suspicious street seller.
Skidding around the corner after her, I entered a long, straight alley paved with stone, and suddenly became aware of the sound of drums, the sweet, haunting notes of a flute, the gasps and shrieks of a crowd.
I stumbled to a halt, tilting my head back. My jaw dropped.
Stilt walkers paraded down the streets, their skin painted brilliant shades of reds, purples and blues, long, flowing fabrics disguising their stilts so they looked like djinn floating down the alleyway, their bodies disappearing into wisps of smoke-like skirts beneath them.
People packed into the narrow alleyway around them, pointing up at the performance, the walls seeming even closer together with the bodies crammed in alongside them.
I swallowed, my eyes wide.
I ducked to peer between the marching wooden stilts, looking for any sign of Lalana, Aliyah, or the tart seller.
There… A body weaved in and out of the stilts.
My jaw dropped even lower.
Lalana moved with the same careful, measured movements with which she danced, slipping fluidly in between the performers. No one looked at her, too fixated on the stilt-walkers, necks craned up to see the hypnotic, undulating movements of their bodies and arms, the jewelry dripping from them, their hair curled up into strange styles like pillars on top of their heads. But my heart was in my mouth as Lalana darted in and out of the stilts…
They slammed into the ground, constantly moving.
Before I could change my mind, I flung myself into the jungle of dangling skirts and heavy, swinging stilts.
Instantly, a stilt whistled past me, lifting my sleeve from my arm. I froze.
How did I time that so wrong?
I took a deep, steadying breath, watching the swing of the stilts ahead of me. I couldn’t work out the pattern to the movement, although there must have been one for Lalana to be weaving through the crowd with such certainty. I squinted. She was already almost out the other side of the parade.
I leapt to one side with a yelp as another stilt swung toward me, slamming into the ground where I had just been standing.
Gritting my teeth, I inched forward, the hairs on my arms standing up as I tensed, waiting for one of the heavy, wooden posts to collide with my side. I wished the music weren’t so loud. It was distracting, and I couldn’t hear when the stilts moved. Not until they had pounded down against the ground.
I stiffened. That’s it.
Instead of watching the stilts, I made myself listen to the music.
Taking a deep breath, I darted forward, around the swing of a stilt, landing in a spot clear of the poles.
Focusing on the beat of the drums, I moved through the stilt walkers in time with the music, narrowly avoiding the swing and stamp of the stilts, not stopping until I reached the other side of the parade.
I twisted back around, my body trembling. The stilt walkers poured out of the other end of the alley now, the crowd trailing after them.
I shuddered. They almost could be djinn.
Turning back, I realized I had no idea where Lalana had gone. My breath quickened.
Sprinting to the end of the alleyway, I looked left, then right. Aliyah and Lalana had cornered the street seller, who cowered on the ground at a dead end.
I hurtled along the passageway and skidded to a stop beside them.
I doubled over, pressing my hands to the tops of my thighs to gulp in deep breaths. My bare foot shifted over the dusty ground, and as I looked down, I could see a red patch by my toes, where I must have scraped it.
To my confusion, Lalana remained upright, barely needing to catch her breath. My lungs burned, but I forced myself to stand up straight, embarrassed that I seemed to be the only one exhausted from our race through the city streets.
I need to eat fewer almond tarts and spend more time in the practice ring with Elian.
Aliyah nodded at me coolly, twirling her knife between her fingers. “Good. Now that we’re all here…” She turned back to the seller with a grim smile. “Our new friend here i
s reluctant to introduce himself. I told him he had until you arrived to change his mind.”
The seller spat at her feet.
Aliyah looked down at where the thick globule shone against the dust. “That,” she said slowly, “wasn’t very polite.”
In a flash, she crouched by his side, her knife a shining, clean line against his throat. She looked up at me, her expression impassive. “Don’t you think it’s rude to refuse to tell us his name? I’ve told him who I am.”
“And who are these two young ladies?” the seller rasped, gesturing between me and Lalana.
My brow furrowed. He had seemed particularly struck by the two of us in the marketplace, his eyes flicking between us as he deliberated over who to give the tart…
Aliyah let out a low growl and pressed the blade into his skin, drawing blood.
“Aliyah, I don’t think Lalana…” I turned to my sister, but stopped in surprise. I had expected her to be pale, tearful, maybe even to faint. But she watched the thief queen threatening the seller with a cold, grim expression, her arms crossed over her chest.
Perhaps her grief had affected her more deeply than I’d realized.
“One last chance,” Aliyah growled. “Who are you? Who do you work for?”
The seller gave a low laugh, which turned into a hacking cough.
“No!” Aliyah dropped the knife, forcing her fingers into the corners of the man’s lips and wrenching his jaw open, pressing her fingers into his mouth.
I winced, expecting him to snap his teeth down.
But his jaw turned slack, his eyes glassy, his body growing limp in Aliyah’s arms.
My heart stuttered.
“No!” Aliyah howled again. She removed her fingers from his mouth, wiping them onto her pants, and moved closer to his face, sniffing at his mouth. Her face darkened. “Sakaran seeds. He must have had a capsule of the poison already in his teeth.”
Lalana startled beside me. “Poison?” she repeated in a whisper.
Aliyah allowed the man to drop to the ground beside her and swung her foot into his side, her cheeks tinged pink. “I’d guess it was the same poison in that tart…” She gave him another hefty kick. “And now we have no idea why, or who he was, or who else was working with him.”
Princess of Smoke (2020 Reissue) Page 3