“Good eye,” Nalia said as she stared at the eight-pointed star on the ceiling. “Give me a boost?”
“Nothing else I’d rather do.” He gave her a wicked grin. She bit back a smile. Nalia was still keeping her distance, but it was as he suspected: she just needed time. More and more he’d noticed her watching him and finding excuses to be near.
It was the same ritual, her blood and the star opening onto yet another cavern. A blast of frigid air greeted them, far colder than what they’d been walking through for days, and a steep slope made of ice was all he could see of the entrance. The jinn stared, but Malek stepped forward.
“Manifest shoes with metal spikes at the bottom and walking sticks,” he said. “It’s what humans use in conditions like this.”
He was right. The shoes enabled them to move up the perilous slope. Eventually it evened out to a plateau that overlooked a glacial cave, all ice and water.
“I wonder what we’ll see next: the Abominable Snowman?” Malek said, frowning at the scene before them.
“The what?” Raif said.
Nalia smiled. “Human thing. A snow monster.”
When they settled down to sleep that night in a cavern coated entirely with ice, Raif risked lying beside Nalia. They’d manifested platforms to sleep on, but it was still freezing. Fires were no good: they only caused the ice to melt and drip all over them.
“Raif . . .” she whispered, her tone admonishing, but weak. Little by little he was wearing down her resolve to keep him at arm’s length.
“I won’t touch you, I promise,” he said. He turned so that his back was to her and smiled at her answering sigh of frustration. He envied Zanari and Phara, curled against one another under the same thick blanket.
Raif had just drifted off to sleep when the screaming started. He sat up, disoriented, and reached for Nalia,
“Phara,” she said, already wide awake. He wondered if she’d been able to sleep at all. She grabbed her jade dagger and ran to where the healer lay on the ground, pushing at the air. Her breath came out in ragged gasps, as though she were being suffocated.
Zanari was shouting for help, her hands moving helplessly over Phara’s writhing form. The other jinn spread out, their eyes peeled for Haraja. There was no doubt she was behind this. Raif scoured the cavern, but there was no sign of the monster, just Anso and Samar lying paralyzed on the floor, where they’d been on watch.
Raif crossed to where Malek calmly lay under a pile of furs. He reached under the blankets and hauled him to his feet by his shirtfront.
“Help her, you bastard,” Raif growled.
“Not the most diplomatic, are we?” Malek pushed Raif off him with surprising force.
Raif pointed to Phara. “Do you not see how much pain she’s in?”
Malek’s eyes slid slowly to where Phara was covering her face and choking. Suddenly, Nalia was beside them.
“What do you want this time, Malek?” she asked, her voice cold.
His eyes flicked to her. “Nothing.”
Malek moved past them, toward Phara. Raif sighed. “I can’t get a read on this guy.”
“He’s insane,” Nalia said. “That’s all you need to know.”
Malek was kneeling on the floor. “This only works if she opens her eyes,” he was telling Zanari. “And I need to know what she thinks is happening.”
Zanari nodded, her hands shaking as she tried to hold down Phara’s body. “Phara, tell me what’s wrong. Please,” she begged.
Raif felt a pang of recognition at Zanari’s panic. He was the same when Nalia was in danger.
“Can’t breathe, pressing . . .” Phara was wheezing, clutching at her neck.
“I’m here, Phara, I’m here.” Zanari’s voice broke. “Open your eyes.”
But Phara wouldn’t. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and her body began to convulse, her breath stopping altogether. Malek drew back a hand and slapped Phara across the face. Zanari shouted, but Phara’s eyes snapped open.
“Look at me,” Malek said, his tone of voice suddenly soft and coaxing. His eyes turned crimson and the pupils dilated, pulsing like coals.
Phara stared into them, her eyes glazing over as she took one long, hard-fought breath.
“You can breathe,” he said. “You are not suffocating. You had a bad dream and now you’re going to wake up. Wake up.”
Phara shuddered and her eyes cleared. She looked around, confused. She saw Zanari and immediately relaxed.
“Haraja?” Phara asked in a quiet voice.
Zanari nodded as she stroked Phara’s long, dark hair. “Yeah. You’re okay now.”
Phara took a deep breath and exhaled. She took another, then another.
Malek stood, waving away Phara’s thanks. He walked out of the ice cavern they’d chosen to sleep in without another word. Nalia touched Raif’s arm.
“I’m going to talk to him,” she said.
His jaw twitched, the jealousy returning. Malek’s ability to persuade extended far beyond his dark power, Raif knew that. “Don’t forget what he is just because he did one nice thing—which I had to force him to do, by the way.”
She rolled her eyes. “Raif. I’m just trying to find a way to get through this cave. What happens if Haraja attacks you next? I need to know he’ll help you.”
A sad smile played on Raif’s lips. “Rohifsa, he’d never help me. You know that.”
“If I asked him . . .”
Malek would do almost anything for Nalia, but he wanted that ring more than her good opinion.
Raif shook his head. “Never gonna happen.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead before she had a chance to pull away. “Good luck, anyway.”
34
IT WAS EASY TO FIND MALEK. NALIA JUST HAD TO FOLLOW the scent of his clove cigarette. He stood near a towering blue-green glacier, resting a hand against the ice. Pensive.
“Thank you for what you did in there,” she said.
He turned, then blew a lungful of smoke away from her face. “I did it for you.”
“I know,” she said softly.
Malek threw his cigarette down, grinding it underfoot as he rubbed his temples. Nalia remembered how every fireplace in his mansion had blazed, even during the hot Los Angeles summers. The cold must have been driving him mad.
“Are you unwell?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“Your eye twitches when you lie.”
The corner of his mouth turned up. Though he was a pardjinn, Malek still had to replenish his chiaan after hypersuasion. Nalia reached out a hand.
“Give me your lighter.”
She brought the flame to the palm of her hand and as her chiaan latched onto it, the fire spiked, its warmth filling her. Malek hesitated for a moment, then rested his bare hand on the flame. He sighed, as though he were having his first sip of a long-awaited glass of absinthe.
Nalia pushed the fire onto his palm, their hands briefly grazing. His eyes met hers and she turned away. She pressed her hands against the ice to extinguish her flame.
“You don’t have to be a slave to your Ifrit side,” she said as Malek stared at the flame in his hand. “Why don’t you try doing things because they’re the right thing to do? Because they’re good. Gods, Malek, the things you could do with your gift!”
“Gift.” He snorted. “Curse, you mean.”
“No. Gift. Imagine. Convincing a would-be murderer to lay down his weapon. Telling a tyrant to give up his power. You’d have just as much control of the world. You’d just be running it differently.”
His eyes fastened on hers, flickering in and out with tongues of flame. This was the battle he fought within himself all day, every day. She knew that now.
“It must be exhausting,” she continued. “Fighting the darkness in you.” For the first time, she was realizing the strain Malek was under. How hard it was for him to keep the rage of the fire inside him at bay.
“What do you know of it?” he said, bitter.
&
nbsp; “Because that darkness is inside me, too.”
How many times had she wanted to hurt, to kill, to lash out in anger? How many times had the darkness in Malek pulled her to him, despite her hatred and disgust of the pardjinn who’d bought her?
He stared at her. “So I wasn’t imagining it—our connection?”
“I don’t love you, Malek,” she said.
“But you’ve wanted me.” His eyes gleamed. “That’s a start.”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Yes,” he said gently. He drew closer and she felt the pull, hated it. He was the dark corner at an illicit gathering, honey on the tip of her tongue, a wild call in the middle of the night. If she gave in, he would obliterate her. For one brief, terrible moment, she wondered what it would be like to accept his poisoned love.
“We have all the time in the world to build on this, hayati. With the ring, you can rule by my side, we—”
She stumbled back, before he could touch her. Before she could feel that heat on her skin.
“Stop it,” she hissed. “I’m not something you can claim. I am a living, breathing, feeling person. Yes, some sick part of me reacts to you in ways I hate. But that jinni in there?” She pointed to the cavern. “When he touches me, I feel whole. I’ve never wanted someone so much in my life. Do you see the difference? I would kill you the first chance I get and die for Raif the second he needed me to. You are nothing to me but a wishmaker who has made my life hell.”
Hurt lashed across his face. “Spare me your high and mighty speeches, Nalia. You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.”
“Obviously this whole conversation was a mistake,” she said. “I came out here because I saw what you did with Phara and it made me think that if someone just saw the good in you—”
Malek laughed, his face cruel and hard. “The good in me? You beautiful little fool. You want to know how good I am?” His eyes were fully crimson now and he slowly unbuttoned his shirt.
“You’re not my master anymore,” she said, staring at the deliberate way his fingers slid the buttons out of their holes. Violet chiaan spilled from her fingertips. “Touch me and you’ll wish to the gods you hadn’t.”
He pulled the shirt off, silent. Draega’s Amulet gleamed on his bronze chest, a complex series of knots seared into his skin.
“Ask me what I gave for this.”
Nalia went cold, not sure she wanted to know anymore. Malek’s eyes sparked.
“Ask me!” he shouted.
“What did you give in exchange for the amulet?”
The air was heavy, weighted down by their past.
“My brother.” As soon as Malek said the words his shoulders sagged and the light went out of his eyes. “I gave the gods Amir.”
Nalia blinked. It took a moment for his words to make sense, to tear wider the hole Bashil’s loss had ripped in her heart.
Malek raised his chin as understanding dawned in her eyes. “Don’t ever make the mistake of thinking I’m good,” he said.
Nalia threw her hands against Malek’s chest, her palms burning with chiaan, pummeling the amulet, trying to rip out his heart. He kept his arms at his sides, welcoming her rage.
“How could you?” she screamed. “He was your brother! Your godsdamned brother! He had a wife, a son.”
The cave echoed with her cries and she hated him hated him hated him. Nalia aimed a barrage of chiaan at Malek, but her hands were shaking so much that it flew over his head and hit the glacier behind him. It burst apart, throwing shards of ice everywhere. She didn’t move, didn’t flinch as needle-sharp slivers of ice cut into her skin, grazed her face. Then there were strong hands on her arms and Zanari was pulling her away.
“Sister, I want to kill him as much as you do, but you know you can’t. Come on. Don’t waste your breath.”
“Your brother,” Nalia screamed as Zanari dragged her to the other end of the cave. Her voice ricocheted off the rock, but he was silent, watching her. “You piece of shit!”
And then she was sobbing because he’d killed her brother, too. By buying Nalia, by not setting her free.
“I could have saved him,” she cried. “But you wouldn’t set me free. And now he’s dead, he’s dead and never coming back, you bastard.”
Something in her snapped and her hands flew toward Malek, her fingers like claws. Her chiaan landed square on his chest and Malek’s body flew up and hit the icy ceiling with a sickening crack before falling face first into the frigid water between floating chunks of ice. She stared at his unmoving form, spent.
Nalia swayed, suddenly dizzy. The wish didn’t like that. She gasped as that age-old summoning pain cut into her and then she was laughing and she couldn’t stop oh gods wasn’t it so fucked up wasn’t it so fucked up?
There were murmured voices behind her and then there was Raif and she was in his arms. He carried her back to the cavern without a backward glance, then held her against him as she plummeted into sleep, clutching Bashil’s worry stone to her heart.
35
THE ICE INSIDE MALEK WAS CRACKING. THE TERRIFYING emptiness he’d carried with him for three years threatened to obliterate him. For the first time in decades he considered death a happy alternative to his existence.
He followed the jinn, hardly aware of the jagged spikes of ice that jutted out of the cave’s floor like oversized crystals. They cut across the paths that wove between looming glaciers, hopping from one island of ice to the next, then pushing through tunnels of snow. Bend. Duck. Bend. Crawl. He did it all, but he wasn’t there, not really. The decades of his life were visiting him, an endless stream of ghosts. He ran his fingers along the smooth ice walls that swelled over the rock. Remembering.
Amir stands in the middle of the ice hotel, his eyes wide. “How is this even possible without jinn magic?” he says.
“Pretty magnificent, isn’t it?” Malek smiles, a little smug.
“It is. Thank you, brother.”
“It’s our birthday,” Malek says. “Have to do something out of the ordinary to celebrate.”
Amir hands him an envelope. “Happy birthday.”
Malek takes it. “A gift card?” He smirks. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Shut up and open it.”
He slides a thin finger underneath the seal and takes out the blurry image. He stares at the tiny figure in its center. He can make out the head, the body curled into itself. Malek’s hand shakes just a little. It means more than he thought it would.
Amir claps a hand on his shoulder. “Ready to be an uncle?”
Malek waited until the jinn were a good distance away, then ducked behind a glacier and gave in to the silent sob that had been building within him. He shut off his flashlight and let the cave consume him as he slid to the ground, his body shaking, and drew his knees to his forehead. The tears froze before they had a chance to fall down his cheeks. If he loosened his arms right now, he’d shatter into a million pieces, shards of ice the others could crush under their feet.
It was goddamn terrible timing to start feeling again. First Nalia, now Amir.
I’m sabotaging myself. If he didn’t keep it together, the sigil was as good as Raif’s.
“Malek!” Raif, close by. Emerald chiaan danced along the frozen walls. “Where in all hells are you?”
He heard the crunch of Raif’s boots on the icy floor and his muttered curses.
Malek hurriedly wiped his eyes, then shot up, drawing the old Malek around him, hiding. “Can’t a man have a moment to himself?” he snapped as he stepped into Raif’s line of sight.
“No,” Raif said, already turning around. “Let’s go.”
Malek could kill him. Right now, with no one else around. He gripped the flashlight in his hand. One good blow to the back of the head was all it would really take.
Amir’s voice, then Nalia’s: Why do you do this?
He hesitated, then gripped the flashlight harder. Before Malek could move, a burst of chiaan sent him flying back.
Raif stood over him, his hands glowing.
“The thing about being evil, Malek, is that you lose the element of surprise.” he said, grabbing the flashlight from where it had fallen to the floor. “I can play dirty, too, you know.” He began walking away, leaving Malek alone in the darkness.
Malek groaned as he sat up. “Enjoy living while you can,” he said. “Because I promise you, I won’t be keeping you around once I have the ring.” Even to his own ears, the words felt hollow, rote.
“You’re delusional.” Raif stopped and turned around. His eyes were hard, belying his youth. “This is what will happen: I will get the ring because I’m a jinni and you are not. Because nobody here is on your side. It’s a pity I can’t kill you, but I almost like it that way. While you’re here on Earth, with nothing left to live for, Nalia and I will be in Arjinna. We will grow old together. We will never speak of you. To her, you will be nothing more than the scars around her wrist and a bad taste in her mouth.”
“A nice fairy tale, boy.” A small, cold smile played on Malek’s lips. “But that’s all it is—a fantasy. Even if you get the sigil, you’ll never grow old. Fearless heroes of doomed revolutions rarely do.”
Malek brushed past Raif before the boy could see the terror that had taken hold of him at the thought of never seeing Nalia again. Malek wondered if he could bear it. He’d rather her scorn, her hatred, than nothing.
“Why’s the sigil so important to you?” Raif called. His chiaan lit the path the others had taken, a bright, springtime green that clashed with the frozen wasteland the cave had become.
Malek stopped. He hadn’t been expecting that. Saranya’s words came to him, just as damning as they’d been the first time she’d said them: Did it ever occur to you, Malek, that you can live forever and yet you have nothing to live for?
“Because it’s all that’s left.”
The look on his father’s face as the bastard died—that was what Malek had to look forward to. He’d summon the jinni that had ruined his mother’s life, that had created a monster like Malek. He’d inform his father that he would be stoned to death, just as the men in Malek’s family had threatened to do to Malek’s mother when she had two children out of wedlock.