The Forbidden Wish (17 page)

He turns away. His shoulders are drawn up, stiff with tension. He is like a caged lion, pacing back and forth, brooding.

“Stop it,” I snap. “I always knew it would end like this. It always does. There's no point in fighting it, Aladdin. It is simply the way of things.”

“I can't accept that.”

“You
must
.”

“How can you just give up? How can you
say
that?” His eyes light up, and he takes the lamp from his sash and grips it so tightly his knuckles whiten. “Earlier, before you kissed me, I was about to wish for your freedom.”

I leap to my feet. “Aladdin, you
must not do that
. You must never even think it!”

“Why is that so bad? You'd be
free
.
”

“It's called the Forbidden Wish for a reason!”

“By
whom
? Nardukha? Let him come. I have a few things I'd like to say to
him.
”

“
I
forbid it. Aladdin. If anything we have done together means anything to you, please,
please
trust me now. Don't make that wish. It is the worst wish you can make. It is—it will break my heart.”

“What is it?” he asks softly. “What is it you're not telling me? What happens if I wish for your freedom?”

I stand trembling, the words clawing at my throat, until I can hold them back no more.

“Like all wishes, the Forbidden Wish comes at a price. My freedom must be bought with a death, a life paid in sacrifice. And I will not let you make that sacrifice, not for me.”

I shut my eyes, unable to bear the shock and pain in his expression. He sits in silence for a long while, staring at nothing. Then at last he rises and goes to his bedchamber.

I spend the rest of the night hunched in a corner, thinking of you, Habiba, and that moment on the mountaintop when you saw that all was lost, that we were defeated. You turned to me and said you wanted to make the Forbidden Wish, that you wanted to offer your life for mine. I remember so sharply the horror I felt . . . and to my eternal shame, the flicker of hope. Hope that I would at last be free of the lamp. Even now I flush with self-loathing. But despite that hope, I couldn't let you give yourself for me. Though as it turned out, I didn't have to stop you.

Nardukha did.

I am filled with horror that Aladdin nearly did the same, without even knowing what he was doing. Well, now he knows the price of my freedom. Now he knows how hopeless it truly is.

The only way I can save us both is by carrying out my deal with Nardukha. I'll be free, and Aladdin will be alive. Then I'll go as far from this city as I possibly can, because only a fool would return. Even free from my lamp, I'm not free to love Aladdin. That rule still stands for all jinn. Loving a human is the worst thing I could do, and it's not a mistake I want to make twice. I'll go somewhere so distant that no mortal will ever see me again—the far, far north, where the world is white and covered with ice. I'll be alone, but I'll be
free.

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.

T
HE
P
ARTHENIAN 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.

We could take them together
, he replies.
You and I—working as a team. We would be unstoppable!

To that, I only send him an image of the lamp, and he curses. I quickly relay to him the deal I made with Nardukha. Zhian stews in his jar, his impatience hammering through my thoughts.

When I finish, he spits,
So do it! Let me out!

I glance around, making sure we're alone, then lift the jar high before dashing it against a rock. The pottery shatters, as does the charm that held Zhian captive inside.

A burst of smoke fills the air, red and angry. It swells and thunders.

“Quiet!” I hiss. “They'll come!”

I do not fear mortals!

“Then you're an idiot. If it weren't for me, they'd still have you bottled up in their crypts.”

My father would not allow it!
Zhian swirls around me, his wind pulling at my hair and my black cloak. Dragon heads materialize in the smoke, snapping and hissing dangerously close to my face.
He would burn their city for my sake! He would sink their ships and wreck their walls!

“Well, he didn't, did he? He sent
me
. Settle down, because I have one more thing to say.”

Zhian rages about a bit longer, cracking trees and whipping up whirlwinds of dust. Then, at last, he assembles himself, taking the form of an enormous, human-like figure, nine feet tall with hooves and horns. It's one of his favorite forms, modeled closely after his father. He wears only a leopard-skin loincloth, and his chest swells with muscle and pride. In his hands is a long chain, from which dangles a spiked morning star.

Curl-of-the-Tiger's-Tail
, he purrs, his black eyes glittering.
Smoke-on-the-Wind. Girl-Who-Gives-the-Stars-Away. You have chosen a beautiful form. Subtle, but desirable.

Rolling my eyes, I reach out and grab the chain between his hands, pulling him close. “Your father is waiting, so fly up that mountain and through the alomb. Find Nardukha and tell him I have upheld my end of the bargain. Now it is his turn.”

He stares at me, a dangerous light in his eye, and then his gaze travels beyond me, in the direction of the funeral. My hand moves to his muscled forearm, and I squeeze it hard.

“No.”

He sneers, his hand moving quickly to catch mine. He yanks me close, his head bending to look down at me.

“Zahra,” he murmurs, his voice like falling rocks. “Why do you care for these humans? For thousands of years they have enslaved you, forced you to bend and bow to their silly whims. They have mistreated you, abused you, and yet you defend them still?” He drops his morning star to cradle my head in his other hand, and he
licks his lips. His fangs flash. “Come with me to Ambadya. Be my bride, as you were always meant to be.”

Revulsion choking my throat, I pull away, slapping him hard across the jaw, but he barely registers the blow. “I'm not anything to you, Zhian. I never will be. You should have abandoned that notion long ago.”

“I did not bargain for your life so that you could play servant to these mortals! My father would have killed you thousands of years ago, like all the other Shaitan, if I hadn't intervened!”

“I never asked you to.”

He roars, and I clap my hands over my ears at the terrible sound. Somewhere behind me, a horn blasts twice.

“They heard you, you fool!” I snap. “The Eristrati are coming, and their charmers will bottle you up again! Go,
go
!”

He snarls, his hand grabbing for me, but I shift into a tiger and snarl back at him, my hackles on end.

Get out of here, Zhian! Go find Nardukha and tell him I have set you free! Now he must free
me.

The horn blasts again. At last Zhian comes to his senses, and he pulls back, scowling.

I'll be back for you
, he promises.
And you and I will be joined at last, the jinn prince and his princess, unstoppable and undisputed!

Shifting back into a girl, I wave at him furiously, and at last he goes, his monstrous form shifting into gray smoke and gliding uphill toward the distant Mount Tissia.

Then I turn and run back the way I came, shifting into a songbird. I flit through the trees, over the heads of the Eristrati running toward the clearing.

I alight on a rock near the funeral and shift back into my
human form, taking a moment to compose myself before slipping back through the crowd to Aladdin's side.

“Zahra!” he hisses. “Where have you been?”

“What do you mean?” I murmur, my eyes on the mountain above.

He frowns, but doesn't press the issue.

I continue gazing at the mountain, wondering how long it will take Nardukha to fulfill his promise, and how it will happen. What will I feel? Will he come himself to do it? I don't see any sign of Zhian, so I can only hope he is on his way to the alomb, if not already through it.

After the funeral ends, Caspida leads the procession back to the palace. She walks alone, with Sulifer and Darian a few steps behind. The wind picks up until it's nearly howling, and everyone must cover their noses and mouths against the dust whipping up. An ominous rumble sounds in the distance, over the choppy gray sea.

Aladdin, anticipating the wards on the city gates, offers me his arm to lean on, and with a mighty effort I keep my pain hidden as the Eskarr symbols glare down at me. We hurry through, Aladdin acting casual while I simply do my best not to pass out. These gates are smaller than the ones through which we first entered the city, and the wards release me sooner, but it is several minutes before my vision clears and I can breathe again.

The court convenes in the throne room, where Caspida stands before her father's great seat, facing the crowd. Four guards are positioned at each corner of the dais, and a row of scribes sit behind her, poised to record everything that happens on long scrolls of creamy parchment, their sleeves rolled back and ink pots at their elbows.

Sulifer and Darian stand at the foot of the throne, wearing
identical expressions of solemnity. Opposite them stand Raz and Nessa, deceptively demure in their funereal black, but their eyes miss nothing.

The crowd whispers and rustles, looking drab and almost indistinguishable from the gray-clad servants who line the walls. High above, through the openings of the domes, the storm clouds roll and rumble, making the hall echo with thunder. Large clay urns have been set directly beneath the holes in the roof, in case rain should begin to fall.

Once everyone has gathered in the hall and the great teak doors are shut with a series of heavy booms, Caspida stands. Everyone falls quiet, and faces turned toward her display a range of expectations: curiosity, hope, pity, and hunger.

In a loud, clear voice that rings across the hall she cries, “My father, Malek son of Anoushan son of Arhab son of Oshur, King of Kings, King of Parthenia, Chosen by Imohel, King of the Amulens, is dead.”

“The king is dead,” murmurs the crowd in response.

“I am Caspida, daughter of Malek and Parisandra, Princess of Parthenia, Chosen by Imohel, Princess of the Amulens. By the right of my birth, I claim this throne.”

“The king is dead,” the crowd says again. “Long live the queen.”

Beside me, Khavar and Ensi's faces shine, their eyes flooding with pride as Caspida sits on the throne, her chin high and eyes bright. Already she fills the massive seat better than her ill father did.

The proceedings are making me edgy, and I find it hard to focus on my surroundings. I wait, tense and impatient for Nardukha to uphold his end of the deal. I watch the openings in the domes above, as if the Lord of the Jinn himself might come swooping down.

A crier takes position behind the throne. “Look on your queen,
Amulens, the one on whom Imohel's favor rests, the daughter of kings. Caspida the First, who has been found worthy.”

“Worthy is she, and favored,” replies the crowd.

Silence falls as Caspida raises a hand.

“Before my father's death, he made a final decree,” she states.

Ensi leans to Aladdin and whispers, “This is our cue.”

Slowly, she and Khavar take up position in front of and behind Aladdin and begin escorting him toward the throne. There is some distance to cover, and the nobles throw angry looks as we press through the crowd. But in the vastness of the hall, our movement is barely noticed.

Caspida continues, “To ensure the future of the kingdom, King Malek wished that I, heir apparent, be joined in marriage before taking the crown.”

The crowd murmurs appreciatively. Sulifer's hand closes on Darian's shoulder, and Darian's face glows. He looks up at his father, his eyes shining, and Sulifer gives him a small smile.

“Go, go,” urges Ensi under her breath, prodding Aladdin.

“In keeping with my father's will,” says Caspida, “I shall take a husband tomorrow at dawn.”

My attention snaps to the queen, the faces around me sharpening into focus.

All eyes turn to Darian, most of them smiling. He can't hold back a grin any longer, and he tugs his coat straight, preparing to ascend the dais.

“And so, I am pleased to announce my betrothal to the man who will rule at my side and usher Parthenia and its people into a new era.”

Darian clasps hands with his father, then turns and sets a foot
on the first stair, looking up at Caspida with passion burning in his eyes.

Without looking at him, Caspida swings a hand wide and announces, “Prince Rahzad rai Asnam of Istarya!”

The crowd gasps as one.

Darian falters, confusion twisting his features, while Sulifer's chest swells and his eyes darken. Heads swivel our way as Aladdin reaches the dais and climbs the stairs. Caspida holds a hand out to him in welcome, while mere paces away, Darian turns scarlet.

“No!” he bursts out. Everyone holds their breaths as he moves to intercept Aladdin. “This is a lie!
I
am the one who will marry the queen! Our betrothal was sealed years ago!” He turns to his father. “Father, tell them!”

Sulifer is surrounded by officials, whispering and gesturing angrily. Caspida steps in before her uncle can say anything.

“Step down, Darian.” Her voice is rigid and commanding. “My father's decree was that I should marry. He did not state that I should marry
you
.”

Darian stammers and looks from her to Sulifer. The vizier finally makes a move, climbing the dais and looming over Caspida. Aladdin starts forward, but Caspida holds up a hand, and he pauses.

“Princess,” says Sulifer in a low voice, “this is childish and irresponsible. You cannot break troth, not even as a queen—which, let me remind you, you are not yet.”