The Forbidden Wish (25 page)

“I can come with you.”

I shake my head. “This is where you belong, with your people.”

She looks around at the chaos, the housewives and butchers, fishermen and beggars, many armed with nothing but bare fists against the organized Eristrati and palace guard. Caspida's eyes flood with pride and sorrow.

“You're right,” she says, meeting my gaze. “But Zahra, you
must
stop him. We cannot become another Neruby.”

I nod grimly and take Aladdin's hand. He smiles, but I see the
worry in his eyes. My skin flushes with shame. If only there were some way to keep him out of this, to face Nardukha on my own. But the Shaitan would tear Parthenia apart stone by stone to find the thief. The least we can hope for is that he will spare the city and its people.

“I'm sorry,” I whisper. “Aladdin, I don't know what will happen on that mountain. I don't know if we can—”

“Have faith, Smoky,” he says softly, cupping my face in his palm, “This isn't over yet. Whatever happens, we'll be together.”

Caspida takes the lamp from her belt, as her Watchmaidens tighten their perimeter around us. The soldiers are regrouping, and half a dozen of them come charging toward the princess. Anxious knots twist in my stomach as they clash with the Watchmaidens, who barely hold their ground against the larger, stronger men.

“Hurry, Caspida!” I urge.

She nods and holds the lamp between us, her eyes meeting mine.

“I wish for you, Zahra of the Lamp, and you, Aladdin of Parthenia, to go with all speed to the summit of Mount Tissia, and there defend us all from the Shaitan and his jinn.”

At that moment the soldiers break through the Watchmaidens' defense. Caspida whirls, drawing her sword, and throws the lamp toward Aladdin. He catches it, and the familiar bond forms between us once more.

I am filled with Caspida's wish, golden swirls of glittering magic racing along my skin. But still I hesitate, looking around at the soldiers closing in on Caspida and her girls. They fight wildly, hair flying, steel glinting, Ensi's poisoned powders shimmering in the sunlight. An Eristrati, wielding an Eskarr scimitar, makes a dash for me, his blade lifted. Aladdin moves like lightning, throwing himself in front of me and tackling the man, heedless of the
weapon. He punches the man once in the jaw before the Eristrati throws him wide and leaps to his feet, his scimitar falling toward Aladdin's neck. But the man freezes, gasping, when Caspida's blade drives through his back.

“Go!” she shouts, blood streaked across her face, as she helps Aladdin to his feet. “This is our fight! Yours is on that mountain—so get out of here!”

She shoves Aladdin toward me, and he grabs my hand. I ache with magic, no longer able to resist the pull of Caspida's third wish. Leaving her to her battle, I pull Aladdin close and draw a screen of red smoke around us. Our clothes fluttering, we hold tight to one another and lock eyes as the world spins around us.

The chaotic roar of the fight fades away, replaced by a deafening rush of wind. Aladdin crushes me against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around me, and he presses his lips to my forehead.

“Together,” he whispers. “No matter what.”

I cling to him with all my strength, sighing a little as the last of the magic drains away.

Everything stops. The smoke falls away and dissipates. I let him hold me a moment longer before I pull away and draw a deep breath.

Here I stand once more, right where everything began, on the stony, chilly peak of Mount Tissia. Around us, the summit stretches wide before dropping away, the ground a series of stony plateaus. No plants or animals are to be found here, where the wind is sharp as knives, gusting around us with an eerie howl. Swirling clouds gather above and below the peak, obscuring the lands in every direction, until it seems we stand utterly apart from the world.

The alomb rises ahead, a massive structure built in the days when the gods walked the earth. Four corner pillars support a
vaulting roof of black stone coursed with glowing blue veins, an ancient magic far more powerful than I could ever wield. It was quarried from the rock that once supported the great isle of Phaex, where the gods feasted every summer solstice, and which sank into the sea many ages ago. Once a doorway to either the godlands or Ambadya, now only the jinn use it, for the path to the gods has long been lost.

In the center of the alomb stands the doorway itself, a perfectly round, seamless ring of stone. There are twelve such doorways in the world, each named for a different god. This one is known as the Eye of Jaal. Two massive buttresses carved in the likenesses of kneeling men frame either side, the sides of the ring supported on their backs.

Usually the doorway sits empty and silent, but now a tunnel of fire swirls and flashes inside, creating a path to the world of the jinn. Blue and red and green the fires burn, hotter than any mortal flame, enough to turn a man from flesh to ashes in a heartbeat. From the Eye wafts the scent of sulfur and smoke.

And then there are the jinn. They crouch all around us, hover in the air, some seen, some unseen. Ghuls and maarids, ifreet and sila. They are silent as death, watching with golden eyes. Many bare their teeth, silently hissing, making their hatred for me quite clear. To them, I am the ultimate traitor.

Aladdin puts an arm around me, as if to guard me against the horde of jinn.

“You know we don't stand a chance,” I whisper.

Aladdin looks down at me, his hand squeezing my arm. “We're still alive, aren't we? Come on, Smoky. Where's your sense of adventure?”

But his attempt to lighten the mood falls short, and he tightens his grip on the lamp.

When a figure appears in the tunnel of fire, my breath stops. A rustle passes through the jinn, and they shift and whisper as the figure steps through, planting a foot on the stone.

It is Zhian, half man, half beast. He wears black robes, his head horned and his arms scaled armor, as if in anticipation of battle. His gaze rakes over us, lingering a bit on Aladdin, all fury and fire.

“You're just in time,” he says, deceptively calm.

He turns slowly to face the Eye, giving us a view of his muscled back and his long black braid. He lifts his arms and clenches his fists, the veins in his arms standing rigid.

Around us, the jinn begin slowly pounding the stone, a slow, measured beat that echoes through the alomb. It sends a chill up my spine. Their whispers come next, a voice with a thousand and one tongues.

He is coming!

He is coming!

Aladdin gathers me into his arms, and I shrink into him, sick with dread. The pounding of the jinn begins to grow faster and louder, and the wind generated by the sila whips around us, tugging and pushing.

He is coming!

He is coming!

Zhian drops to his knees, stretching his hands out in front of him. All eyes are fixed on the doorway, on that hypnotizing tunnel of flame that seems to stretch into infinity. The heat intensifies. I can feel Aladdin's pulse racing through our clasped hands, but he doesn't waver.

Soon the jinn's pounding becomes deafening, and then—all at once—everything stops. The noise. The wind.

Then we are thrown flat by a massive ripple of air that pulses outward from the doorway, rolling like thunder. A hot, sulfuric wind with the strength of a tidal wave pours from the Eye, pressing us down.

In the flames a shadow appears, tall as three men, horn and darkness, fire and smoke. Two eyes like coals flicker and form, centered on pupils of utter black. I sit up slowly and fight the wind, working my way to my feet and drawing Aladdin up with me.

The figure steps through the fire, plants one massive foot on the floor of the alomb. Then he lets out a soft, rumbling laugh, a sound that is all breath and wind, yet somehow manages to be deafening. That laugh sends a cold chill crackling down my spine.

Nardukha has come.

At last, when the dust settled, the Queen and the Jinni stood on the mountaintop and looked down on the battlefield and the bodies spread like leaves across the desert. The Queen fell to her knees, wearied and wounded, and her sword dropped from her hand. Before her, the doorway to Ambadya burned with fires of every color.

“All I wanted,” said the Queen, “was peace between our peoples. But I see now that this is not possible, for my people are ruled by a dreamer, and the jinn are ruled by a monster. My only consolation is that thou art by my side, my Jinni. I would die in the company of a friend, and give thee my final breath. For I have one wish remaining, and it is for thy freedom, yea, even at the cost of mine own life.”

At this the Jinni shook her head, replying, “Nay, my queen. The time for wishing is passed. For here is the Shaitan, Lord of all Jinn and King of Ambadya.”

And even as she spoke, the fires in the doorway rose higher, and through them stepped Nardukha the Shaitan, terrible to behold.

“O impudent woman,” said the Shaitan, looking down at the Queen. “Wouldst thou dare make the Forbidden Wish?”

“I would,” she replied. “For I fear thee not.”

“Then thou art a fool.”

As the Queen's heart turned to ashes, realizing her doom was upon her, the Shaitan turned to the Jinni and said, “Dost thou recall the first rule of thy kinsmen, Jinni?”

And the Jinni replied, “Love no human.”

“And hast thou kept this commandment?”

“Lord, I have.” And up she rose, as the Queen cried out in dismay.

“Are not we like sisters?” asked the Queen. “Of one heart and one spirit?”

And the Jinni replied, “Nay, for I am a creature of Ambadya, and thus is my nature deceitful and treacherous. My Lord has come at last, and I would do all that he commands.”

The Shaitan, looking on with approval, said to the Jinni, “This human girl is proud and foolish, thinking she could rule both men and jinn. I am well pleased with thee, my servant, who hast brought her to me. Slay the queen and prove thy loyalty to thy king.”

And the Jinni grinned, and in her eyes rose a fire. “With pleasure, my Lord.”

Then, with a wicked laugh, she struck down the good and
noble Queen, the mightiest and wisest of all the Amulen monarchs, whose only mistake was that she had dared to love a Jinni.

—From the
Song of the Fall of Roshana,
Last Queen of Neruby
by Parys zai Moura,
Watchmaiden and Scribe to Queen Roshana

H
AND IN HAND,
Aladdin and I stand before the Shaitan. Beneath Nardukha's primal gaze, all I want to do is cower and flee, but I focus instead on Aladdin's pulse in my palm.

“Nardukha.” I lift my chin, meeting his black eyes.

The Shaitan is old, older even than the race of men. He was one of the first creatures ever formed by the gods, long ago when Ambadya was lush and beautiful. Looking in his gaze now, I find nothing remotely human. No emotion, no pity. He is more a force of nature than a living being, like a walking volcano. Rarely does he set foot in this world at all—and never do his visits result in anything other than catastrophe.

He looks down slowly, his eyes shifting from me to Aladdin. Then, with a sound like thunder, a black pillar of smoke envelops him. When it falls away, Nardukha stands not much taller than us, vaguely human in form. His skin is black and charred, cracking at
the joints to reveal lava-red muscle beneath. His robes are smoke and silk, and instead of hair he has two curling horns protruding from his elongated skull.

He is a walking nightmare.

“The-Girl-Who-Gives-the-Stars-Away,” he murmurs. His voice is soft and beautiful, clear as a crystal and sweet as honey. I guard myself against the dangerous allure in that voice. “Curl-of-the-Tiger's-Tail. What have you done?”

“I freed Zhian,” I say, drawing his attention back to me. “I kept my part of the deal. But you were never going to grant me freedom, were you? It was all a lie.”

“You were to be freed from your lamp, just like he promised,” Zhian cuts in, rising to face us. Fury rages in his eyes.

“And then what?” I snap, my gaze still locked on Nardukha's. “Be killed?”

“Be joined to me,” says Zhian. “As you were always meant to be.”

I know what he means, the ceremony the jinn perform like some kind of perverted wedding. I would have been bound to Zhian in every way, unable to disobey his commands. It is similar to the bond Nardukha holds over all jinn, and the thought of being made slave to Zhian in this way is repulsive. Once more, another of Nardukha's “deals” has turned out to be nothing but a trick. Last time, Ghedda paid the price of my foolish hopes. Now it will be Aladdin who suffers.

“I would rather be bound to my lamp than be bound to you,” I snarl.

Zhian opens his mouth to reply but falls silent at a look from the Shaitan. Nardukha circles me and Aladdin, his train of smoke coiling around us.

“My beautiful jinni,” he murmurs. His voice is wind on hot coals, sparking and sighing. “More powerful than any other, made of fire and water, of earth and air. Why have you defied me?”

The horde of jinn raise a chatter, like the hissing and clicking of cockroaches, that rustles through the air. Nardukha silences them with a single uplifted hand.

“Why does it matter so much to you?” I ask. “What are you so afraid of?”

But even as I say it, the answer hits me like a dash of icy water.

Nardukha fears the Forbidden Wish.

It is the one wish he cannot stop from happening, because the magic behind it is older, older even than he. It is a power far greater than any the Shaitan could wield. And love, love makes people do stupid things, like sacrifice themselves for one another. Nardukha fears love because he fears it will lead to the Forbidden Wish and my freedom.

For the first time, I realize I might be strong enough to defeat him.

If I were to let Aladdin make the wish, giving his life in exchange for mine, perhaps I
could
defeat Nardukha then.

But I already know I won't let that happen. The price is not one I am willing to pay.

“You have broken the first rule of the jinn,” rumbles the Shaitan, his voice dangerously low. He stops in front of me. “And you must be punished.”

Before I can say another word, his hand wraps around my arm.

“Let her go!” shouts Aladdin, grabbing Nardukha's arm and hissing when the Shaitan's skin burns his hand. Zhian steps forward and easily knocks Aladdin to the ground, and Aladdin's head
strikes the stone hard. Smirking, Zhian pulls the lamp away from the thief. The bond between Aladdin and me unravels, and I'm left suspended, neither confined to my lamp nor bonded to a new master, for my wish-granting power is meant only for humans, not jinn. At least that's something to be grateful for. I don't have to feel Zhian's will invading my own.

“Zahra is
mine
, boy,” Nardukha says. “I created her. And in my benevolence, I allow you dismal creatures to borrow her. But as always, you grow greedy.”

“She doesn't belong to you,” Aladdin declares, rising to his feet, his temple bleeding. “She belongs to no one.”

“You think you love her? You can't even
comprehend
her.” Nardukha's voice turns me cold. He eyes me, snakelike, his hand searing my skin. I dread the calculation in his black stare. Looking at him, I realize how futile any struggle is. He will win. He will
always
win. Against him, I have nothing more to wield than empty defiance. I will die today, and Aladdin will die with me. I have loved him to his death, just as I did you, Habiba. This has been the great lesson of my long life: To love is to destroy.

With a look of disgust, the Shaitan throws me down, and I land hard on my knees. I can tell Nardukha is growing bored. He is not one for long conversations. His punishment is always swift and absolute. I turn to Aladdin, my body going numb, my chest emptier than ever.

“I'm sorry,” I whisper.

He takes my face in his hands. “I'm not. I'm not sorry I met you. I'm not sorry I fell in love with you. I have no regrets, Zahra, and neither should you. I love you.”

A blast of pain cuts through me, and suddenly Aladdin and I
are ripped apart and thrown wide by a burst of angry power from the Shaitan. He steps between us, bristling, and hauls me upright with a hand around my throat.

“Enough,” he growls, his honeyed voice turning to stone. “Before I rip you apart, I will in my mercy allow you to repent. You will show me your allegiance, and you will beg for forgiveness.”

His words begin to swell with power as he draws magic to himself, leaching it from stone and sky, from fire and flesh. Energy streams from the world and coils about him, and I tremble as he releases me, my hand going to my aching throat. I know what comes next. I have seen him draw in power like this before. I know what words he will speak even before he says them, but still they strike like a battle-axe, relentless and final.

“Kill the boy.”

With the words he unleashes the power he has knitted around himself, and the force of it washes over me in a wave. I sway on my feet, gasping out, “
No
.”

“Kill. Him.”
Each word is a hammer against my temple, pounding me into submission, compelling me to obey. The compulsion is stronger even than a wish, for it is a different kind of magic, pulling on the bond between jinni and maker.

I whirl to Aladdin, eyes wide, my heart of smoke bursting into sharp fragments. Nardukha's command drags at my every fiber. It whispers through my thoughts, muddling my mind.

Kill him.

Yes, that is what I want.

No! It's not! You love him!

But I want to kill him.

No, you don't! Get control of yourself, Zahra!

My name isn't Zahra. I am Smoke-on-the-Wind, Curl-of-the-Tiger's-Tail, Girl-Who-Gives-the-Stars-Away.

He loves you!

He is just a mortal. Just a boy, a moment in time that will soon pass.

His name is Aladdin.

I have known a thousand and one like him. I will know a thousand and one more. He is nothing.

He is everything.

“
Zahra?”

My legs shift to smoke. My eyes turn to fire. I rise, hands held out, fingers crackling with lightning. It sizzles up my arms, singeing my false skin. I am no human. I am jinni, the most powerful of all Nardukha's children, exalted above all the hosts of Ambadya.

“Tremble, mortal,” I intone in a thousand and one voices. “I am the Slave of the Lamp.”

“No!” The boy's hair whips around his face as the wind of my breath swirls around him. “Your name is Zahra!”

Above the alomb, clouds roll and multiply, flashing with lightning. A hot, sticky wind howls through the columns, and in the wind are the jinn, and the jinn are laughing.

“Zahra!” The boy holds up a hand, trying to block the sand that stings his eyes. “I know you can hear me! Stop this! You're stronger than this!”

I shift my eyes to my master, who stands glorious and shining as a god. He smiles at me, and I bask in his approval.

Kill him.

“
I love you,” whispers the boy, his words reaching me improbably
through the howling wind and the crackling fire. “I love you. Do you hear me? I love you. No matter what.”

Kill him.

I stretch my hands toward him, preparing to launch the lightning that sizzles across my fingers, biting me like a thousand and one angry snakes.

KILL HIM.

I draw a breath, and my palms burn white, blindingly white, as the lightning bunches and readies.

Then something glints on my hand, drawing my eye, just for a moment.

A ring.

The ring I forged for the thief to give to the princess, which he gave to me instead, and with it, his heart. The symbols I myself pressed into the gold seem to shine at me:
love, undying, infinite, unity.
Symbols of power, symbols of truth. They burn into my ears, sear themselves into my soul.

Time slows.

The clouds overhead roll backward.

My thoughts stumble and reverse.

Kill him.

Kill him?

But I love him.

The moment is but a heartbeat. There is no time. With the next breath Nardukha's command will overwhelm my heart. I
will
kill him. I don't have a choice. I never had a choice.

No.

I do have a choice.

What was it Aladdin said to me, so long ago?
You can't choose what happens to you, but you can choose who you become because of it.
I can't stop Nardukha from killing us both, but I can choose to not be the monster he wants.

Zhian still stands by the Eye, holding my lamp with one finger curled through the handle, dangling at his side.

Not trusting myself to think it through, not daring to take another precious fraction of a second, I shoot the lightning from my hands—toward Zhian. The jinn prince dodges, but not fast enough. The searing energy strikes him in the chest, doing little harm but throwing him off balance. He may hold the lamp, but he is jinn and cannot command me, so its power doesn't protect him from my attack. Before he can recover, I am upon him, driving toward him in a funnel of smoke. My arms wrap around him, and I propel us both forward, toward the great Eye of Jaal and the fiery tunnel within. As we cross the threshold, Zhian cries out and lets go of the lamp, but too late.

Time rushes forward.

The clouds overhead coil and burst with lightning.

Zhian is sucked away into the tunnel and lost to sight, screaming in fury. I begin to pour into my lamp as it hurtles toward the hungry flames. Nardukha reacts, reaching—but not fast enough.

The lamp falls

falls

falls

falls into Ambadyan fire, the only force in this world or the next capable of destroying it.

I have time only to smile, my face momentarily forming through the smoke, and to whisper to Aladdin before the bronze walls close in on me and start to melt in the flames.

“I love you.”