“I know everything you’re going to say, Zan. I can’t talk about it. Not right now.”
She held her brother’s eyes for a long moment, then finally nodded. This was a conversation that belonged to an entire night, with a bottle of savri. The problem was, that night wasn’t happening until after the tavrai saw those armbands.
“The tavrai . . .” she began.
“I know, Zan. Trust me, I know.” He rested a hand on her shoulder. “Phara?”
Zanari sighed. “It’s over.”
He gave her a thoughtful look. “I wouldn’t be so sure.” Then, unexpectedly, Raif wrapped his arms around her. “I love you, Zan. Whatever happens in the Eye, I just . . . I want you to know that.”
She hugged him tight, then pushed him away, the side of her mouth turning up. “Don’t go soft on me, little brother.”
It took a surprisingly short time to assemble the jinn. They wiped all traces of their presence in the desert. If Calar had spies, they didn’t want to tip their hand that they’d raised an army.
“So you’re the sister,” Taz said, coming up to Zanari.
She nodded, unsmiling. “Yep. I’m the sister.” She was getting so tired of that role.
“Also known as the Incredibly Talented Seer?” Taz raised an eyebrow and when he did, his face lost some of its perfect beauty. It made her warm to him, just a little.
A small smile sneaked onto Zanari’s face. “Now you’re just trying to get on my good side.”
Taz nodded in mock solemnity. “You’re the one who’ll see the ghouls coming—I plan to stick quite close to you for the next . . . however long we’ll be roaming impenetrable darkness.”
“I have a personal bubble,” she said. Nalia had taught her that human expression after one too many of Noqril’s advances.
“I like bubbles.”
Zanari rolled her eyes and he laughed. For a jinni who’d been imprisoned in a bottle for thousands of years, Taz was remarkably well adjusted.
“So, how exactly does this work?” he continued.
Zanari pointed to where Nalia and the other Djan stood at intervals around the large circle of jinn, their hands pressed to the earth.
“The Djan are creating a circle around all of us,” Zanari said. “In order to access my voiqhif to the extent we’ll need it today, the more power the better. The circle also has to remain strong enough so that we can evanesce as a group.”
Taz whistled. “We’re all going to evanesce at the same time based on your vision of the Eye—can that even be done?”
Zanari nodded. “It’s been done before. Just . . . on a smaller scale.”
A much smaller scale, she thought. Antharoe and her blind seer hadn’t made their way across the Eye dragging over two thousand jinn.
Zanari noticed a puff of violet smoke shoot up on the other side of the circle and in seconds, Nalia had evanesced beside them.
“We’re ready,” Nalia said.
Zanari settled onto the sand and placed her fingertips on the outer rim of the circle. It glowed bright green.
Touma, the first jinni who had been freed of his bottle, rushed up to Nalia, bowing low before her.
“My Empress—”
Nalia held up her hand. “Touma, please. Nalia, just Nalia, okay?”
Zanari bit her lip, watching them. How had this empress thing gotten so out of hand, so quickly?
Touma rose from his bow. “Please let me be of assistance to you on the journey. Anything you need.” His eyes glistened with tears. “Taz told us of the terrors you’ve endured. When I think of you losing nearly everyone you love . . .”
Great, fat tears began falling down the Ifrit’s face.
“Oh, gods, not again,” Zanari said. “Nalia, control your pet.”
Nalia glared at Zanari, exasperated, then manifested a handkerchief. “Why don’t you stay nearby, Touma? Your presence is a . . . comfort to me.”
“Oh, yes, My Emp—” He coughed. “Er, Nalia. I’d be most honored.”
Raif watched the exchange, frowning.
“Okay, little brother, do your thing,” Zanari said.
He manifested two ladders and climbed to the top of one.
Taz began to climb the one beside him. “Wish me luck?” he said, looking back at Zanari.
“Luck,” Zanari said. As Taz began ascending the ladder, she turned to Nalia. “I hate to admit it, but I kinda like him.”
“I like him, too,” Nalia said. “I think. But I don’t know if I trust him.”
“I hear you on that, sister,” Zanari agreed.
Raif began speaking to the assembled jinn, his voice magically amplified. Despite the size of the crowd, it was silent.
“Brothers and sisters. Today we are going home. To Arjinna. To the land that is ours and ours alone.”
The Dhoma cheered.
“The journey will be dangerous,” Raif continued. “And anyone who does not wish to undertake it may feel free to leave this circle.”
None of the jinn moved.
“Good,” Raif said, after a moment. “I admire your courage and pray the gods will bless you for it. Jahal’alund.”
His speech lacked the intimacy he had with the tavrai. This wasn’t Raif’s army—not yet, anyway. Zanari wasn’t surprised. His tavrai fell in love with her brother on the battlefield, not off it. He was no politician. Give him a fight, though, and there was no one better to lead.
Raif turned to Taz and nodded.
“Fellow slaves of the Master King—you are slaves no more!” the Shaitan commander called.
The jinn responded with a roar. The sound gave Zanari goose bumps. It reminded her of her father, cheering on the tavrai just hours before he died in the second uprising.
“And you have one person to thank for your freedom,” Taz said. “One person who knows what it’s like to be imprisoned in a bottle with no hope of escape. Her royal blood paid the price for our freedom. We give her ours in exchange.” Taz gestured to where Nalia stood beside Zanari, shrinking into the ground.
“Fire and blood, what’s he doing?” Nalia growled.
“I take back the part where I said I liked him,” Zanari said.
“We pledge our blood to you, Nalia Aisouri’Taifyeh, rightful Empress of Arjinna, Keeper of the Amethyst Crown, and heir to the throne.”
The jinn were silent, each one immediately going to their knees.
Taz descended the ladder and bowed before Nalia, one knee on the desert floor.
“Stop it,” Nalia hissed. “I don’t want this!”
“They need this,” Taz said. “If you ask jinn to die, they need to know why. And for who.” He stood and reached out a hand. “Speak to your people.”
Nalia looked up to where Raif stood. His jaw was tight and he gave her a slight nod. She ignored Taz’s hand and pulled herself up the ladder.
Zanari couldn’t hear what Nalia whispered to Raif when she joined him, but she saw his hand reach back to caress her spine and knew his anger wasn’t at the jinni beside him, but at Taz.
“Please,” Nalia said to the jinn. “Rise.”
Zanari couldn’t help it—something about seeing Nalia up there, hearing her speak—it made her want to bend the knee.
What have we done?
“I do not want you to fight for me,” Nalia called. “Fight for yourselves and your families. Fight for freedom and the right to live the life you want. Spill your blood for an Arjinna where there are no shackles and bottles and masters. The revolution is inside all of us.” She turned to Raif. “Kajastriya vidim.”
“Light to the revolution,” Zanari whispered to herself. Her eyelids slid down and she began searching for the Eye.
The Eye of Iblis, the Devil’s Eye, a place without the gods. In some cultures, they might even call it hell. The jinn didn’t believe in hell as the humans did. For them, Hell was a place where the gods refused to go. It was an absence of all that was good and beautiful. An absence of life and the things that made it worth living. This
was the world without the gods.
Zanari pushed deep into her mind, no longer aware of her surroundings. She could feel the energy of the circle pulsing through her fingertips as she traveled the lines of her voiqhif, rushing past the twists and turns of the universe. A child’s laugh, a sunny beach, buildings that touched the sky. Faces, faces, so many and the world so big and so much and—
Nothing.
There, in the corner of her mind, a place hollowed out of time and space. Silent. Dark. Without form or color, without anything.
Zanari pressed closer, until she could see the darkness before her, a gaping mouth. She stepped inside. This was it. She concentrated on the exact sensation of erasure, of absence.
Then she willed her body to evanesce.
Zanari could feel them now, Raif and Nalia and Anso, Samar, Noqril, Taz, Touma, and the thousands of strands of chiaan that made up the Brass Army. They pressed close to her and as her body began to break apart into specks of jade evanescence that hurtled across the earth, Zanari melted into the energy around her, pieces of her mixing with pieces of all the jinn until she began to lose all sense of herself. They were one, the fierce desire for home pulsing through these broken hearts, a communal wish to reclaim what had been stolen from them. Zanari cried out, holding on to the image of nothingness, the sense of deletion.
Finally, stillness.
Zanari opened her eyes to oblivion. “We’re here.”
The darkness swallowed them whole.
Pronunciation Guide
Jinni: JEE-nee
Jinn: JIN
JINN CASTES
Shaitan: shy-TAN
Djan: JAN
Ifrit: if-REET
Marid: muh-RID
Aisouri: ass-or-EE
CHARACTERS
Amir: ah-MEER
Anso: AN-so
Bashil: bah-SHEEL
Calar: cuh-LAHR
Dthar: d-THAR
Haraja: hah-RAH-ja
Haran: huh-RAHN
Jordif: JOR-diff
Leilan: lay-LAHN
Malek: MAL-ick
Nalia: NAH-lee-uh
Noqril: no-KREEL
Phara: FARE-ah
Raif: RAFE
Samar: sah-MAR
Saranya: sah-RAN-yah
Tazlim: TAZ-leem
Touma: TOO-mah
Umbek: OOM-bek
Yezhud: YEH-zhood
Zanari: zah-NAHR-ee
Glossary
WORDS IN KADA
bisahm (bee-ZAH-m) A magical shield used to cover an area in order to prevent jinn from evanescing into it.
chiaan (chee-AHN) The magical energy force that all jinn possess.
Dhoma (DOH-ma) The Forgotten—a desert tribe of jinn on Earth. The jinn are from all different castes and reside in the Sahara.
evanesce / evanescence This is the same word in English, but used differently. When jinn travel by smoke, they evanesce. The smoke itself is called evanescence.
fawzel (faw-ZEL) Jinn who shape-shift, usually from human to bird form.
gaujuri (gow-JER-ee) A hallucinogenic drug used in Arjinna.
gharoof (gah-ROOF) A term of endearment for children. Translates as “little rabbit.”
hahm’alah (HAHM-ah-lah) The magic of true names, whereby jinn can contact one another psychically.
jai (j-EYE) A term of endearment used among family members; a suffix, as in Nalia-jai.
Kada (KAH-dah) The jinn language.
keftuhm (KEF-toom) Blood waste. A term referring to male offspring of the Ghan Aisouri.
ludeen (loo-DEEN) Tavrai homes in the Forest of Sighs; jinn tree houses.
niba (NEE-bah) The jinn currency.
pardjinn (PAR-jin) Someone who is half jinn, half human; seen as abomination by the jinn.
rohifsa (roe-HEEF-sah) Jinn word for “soul mate” that translates as “song of my heart.”
sadr (s-AHD-r) Arjinnan prayers in the jinn holy book, comparable to the Christian psalms.
Sadranishta (s-AHD-r-ahn-EESH-tah) Jinn holy book.
salfit (SAL-feet) A derogatory term used by the lower castes when referring to Shaitan and Ghan Aisouri jinn, who mostly reside in the mountains. Literal translation: “goat fucker.”
s’arawq (s-AR-ah-wok) Arjinnan monsters; half cobra, half scorpion.
savri (SAH-vree) The favorite drink of the jinn, a spicy wine with hints of cardamom.
sawala (sah-WALL-ah) Traditional Arjinnan clothing consisting of pants and a long tunic. Worn by both males and females.
Sha’a Rho (SHAH-ah-ROE) Ghan Aisouri martial art, with similarities to yoga, tai chi, and kung fu.
si’lah (SEE-lah) Cannibalistic sirens found in underground water sources in Morocco.
skag (SKAG) Insult used for any caste, male or female. Loosely translates as “motherfucker.”
tavrai (tuh-VR-EYE) Form of address used for members of the jinn resistance, similar to “comrade.”
voiqhif (v-wah-KEEF) A psychic power similar to remote viewing. Very rare among the jinn.
widr (wi-DEER) An Arjinnan tree, similar to a weeping willow. Has silver leaves.
zhifir (zh-if-EER) An Arjinnan fiddle.
EXPRESSIONS IN KADA
Batai vita sonouq. (buh-TAI VEE-ta soh-NOOK) My home is yours. Used when visitors come to one’s home.
Faqua celique. (FAH-kwah seh-LEEK) Only the stars know. Used when the future is uncertain.
Ghar lahim. (GHAR la-HEEM) Nice to meet you.
Hala l’aeik. (HAH-la l-EK) It is the will of the gods.
Hala mashinita. (HAH-la mah-shi-NEET-ah) Gods save me.
Hala shalinta. (HAH-la SH-ah-lin-tah) Gods forgive me.
Hif la’azi vi. (HIF la-AH-zee vee) My heart breaks for you. Used as a condolence.
Jahal’alund. (JUH-hahl-uh-loond) Gods be with you. Typical jinn greeting.
Kajastriya vidim. (kuh-JAH-stree-yuh vih-DEEM) Light to the revolution. Expression used among jinn revolutionaries, as a toast or battle call.
Ma’aj yaqifla. (mah-AHJ yah-KEEF-lah) I wash my hands of it.
Shundai. (shoon-DIE) Thank you.
Vasalo celique. (VAH-sa-lo suh-LEEK) Follow the stars.
Wadj kef. (WAH-DJ KEF) Obey the blood.
ARABIC PHRASES
Alhamdulilah. (al-HAHM-doo-lee-lah) Thank God.
Bismillah (BIZ-meel-ah) Islamic phrase, “In the name of God”—often used colloquially before travel, for protection, and to ward off evil spirits.
habibi (ha-BEEB-ee) darling.
hayati (hai-YAH-tee) my life: used as a term of endearment.
Khatem l-hekma (kah-TEM l-EK-ma) Ring of wisdom (Moroccan term referring to King Solomon’s sigil).
Salam aleikum (sah-LAH-m ah-LIKE-koom) Greeting in Arabic-speaking countries. Translates as “Peace be unto you.”
Ya Allah! (YAH ah-LAH) Oh, my God!
Yalla habibi! (YAH-la ha-BEEB-ee) Let’s go, darling! Used among friends and strangers.
Acknowledgments
This is a book about siblings, so I must first thank mine for all their love, support, and crazy-making ways: Meghan Demetrios, Jake Dowell, and Luke Dowell. I would fight a Calar for you.
Another round of thanks to the absolutely fantastic team at Balzer + Bray and HarperCollins: you have made this whole experience great, great fun. Next, to the B+B+B trifecta: Balzer, Bray, and Bowen. Donna Bray, brilliant editor and tireless cheerleader; Alessandra Balzer, reader of blush-inducing scenes; and finally my agent, Brenda Bowen (and everyone at Sanford Greenburger) for making dreams reality. A kiss across the pond to my UK editor, Kirsten Armstrong, and to the team at Random House UK.
My betas, for letting me know what I could get away with and what needed to be cut: Kathryn Gaglione, Sarah and Brandon Roberts, Jamie Christensen, Elena McVicar, and Megan Gallagher. My Allies: if ever I need an army, I know you’re standing by with the VCFA family. And, as always, Leslie Caulfield, Jennifer Ann Mann, and Shari Becker, my writing sisterhood of awesome. Unending thanks to Z
ach, ever my rohifsa (TS&TM&EO), and all my family and friends who continue to cheer me on. Love to Becky Stradwick, Megan Shepherd, and Sarah J. Maas.
Finally, to my readers, my Blogger Caravan, and all the bloggers out there who have shown so much enthusiasm and support for my characters and their stories: shundai.
Special Thanks to the Blogger Caravan
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Excerpt from Freedom’s Slave
Turn the page for an excerpt from
FREEDOM’S SLAVE
BOOK THREE
of the
DARK CARAVAN CYCLE
BOTTLES.
They were the only illumination in the pitch-black room. Hundreds of them, filled with jinn of every caste. Clear bottles, pulsing with the light of their prisoners’ magic. Emerald, sapphire, gold, ruby: the jinn energy swirled inside, trapped.
They covered the shelves that had been carved into the lapis lazuli wall behind the throne, just one of many changes Calar had made to the palace. She had taken to calling them her court. When faced with a decision, Calar would smile, brilliant in her cold beauty, and say, Why don’t we ask my court? She’d caress a bottle or two, speak to the miserable jinni inside it. What do you think I should do?
From where Kesmir now stood, hidden in the shadows, he could just make out the shapes of the naked bodies stuffed into the vessels. A curved spine, head on knees, eyes closed in order to block out what was happening. It was a small miracle Calar had decided not to line the bottles with iron, the sick-making element that would have killed most of the jinn by now. She claimed she was being merciful by allowing them to keep their chiaan, but Kesmir knew the truth: she liked seeing them in pain. Liked making them watch what she did from the throne. It was no fun if they were dead.