“I don’t believe you.” Nahri saw tears glistening in Ali’s eyes. “My ancestors wouldn’t have done that; they wouldn’t have lived as some clan of marid spies for generations.”
“They did not know the extent of their purpose. I told them merely to keep secret what they were and pass word down to future generations that one day I would require a service in return for the centuries of blessings. So I waited. I watched the Nahids weaken, and when an opportunity arose, I took it.”
“Zaydi’s war.” Nahri felt sick. “So the marid did help him take Daevabad. You helped him.”
Sobek gave her a cold look. “I have not gone near our lake since Anahid desecrated it. My descendant went in my place, bringing an entire army through the currents. That is what your family was capable of when it obeyed me,” he said to Ali, his tone growing bitter. “Not that it mattered. The daevas always lie, and my kin among them were no better. I made clear the Nahids were to be annihilated and that I needed Anahid’s ring to be returned to my waters. They failed on both accounts.”
Nahri untangled his appalling words, hearing the deal beneath the surface. “You knew,” she accused him. “Didn’t you? You knew what would happen if the ring was removed from Daevabad?”
“That foul city only exists because of Anahid’s magic. Your world exists because of it. Yes, I knew.”
“The price,” Ali said softly. He looked like he was going to throw up again. “Zaydi said the Ayaanle had paid a terrible price for their alliance with the marid. My ancestors didn’t give you the ring, they gave it to him.”
Nahri stared back at Sobek, dread creeping over her. “What did you do?”
The marid looked more crocodilian now, but there was a flicker of something very old and haunted in his eyes. “I loved them in the ways that I could. But they disobeyed. They were my responsibility, and they carried strains of my magic. A thing you should understand, Nahid, with your rules about Suleiman’s code.”
“That’s why you asked me those questions when we met,” Ali said. “Why you were surprised to learn of me.” Horror rose in his voice. “What did you do to my ancestors?”
“I devoured them. All that I could find.”
Nahri could not stifle her gasp, but at her side, Ali did not shake. He took a single deep breath and then stepped back, putting Nahri and Jamshid behind him.
“This ocean is the abode of Tiamat, yes?” he asked.
Sobek clearly wasn’t as thrown as Nahri by the abrupt question. “Yes.”
“Then leave.”
The marid paused for a long moment. “You are upset. That is understandable. But you and I were both given a warning, and Tiamat will not care about your anger.”
“I will deal with Tiamat on my own.” Ali raised his knife, and now his voice did tremble. “You said I fulfilled my ancestors’ pact, so leave. I do not ever wish to see you again.”
If that landed, Nahri couldn’t tell. But Sobek retreated toward the water.
He turned to her. “The next risen tide is shortly after dawn. For the debt I owe your human kin, I will tell you this. Flee west, daughter of Anahid.”
“West?” Nahri repeated faintly.
“You will not be spared Tiamat’s wrath. None of you will. Not if he is here.”
Then Sobek vanished beneath the water’s surface, leaving nothing but ripples. Ripples and the three of them, the unrelenting rain, and a threat that suddenly made Daevabad feel very far away.
31
DARA
Consciousness pulled at Dara in the form of crackling flames and foul, acrid smoke.
Blistering hot spikes jabbed his back, his legs, his skull, miring him in pain. A worse torture throbbed in his right arm, his wrist bound and wrapped in what felt like his own iron-studded scourge.
The attack on the carriage. Muntadhir’s betrayal and Kaveh’s gutting cries. Dara tried to free himself, finding his limbs constrained, chains rattling from his wrists and ankles. The attempt left him panting for air, his body so weak it felt like a stranger’s.
“Ah, look who finally wakes.”
Dara blinked, his vision blurry with ash.
Vizaresh loomed over him. “You’re very irritating to watch over, did you know that? All this shrieking in your sleep and calling for your sister. ‘Tamima! Tamima!’”
Dara lunged against the chains holding him and then gasped as a wave of pain left him breathless. He fell back against the smoldering surface to which he’d been bound.
Vizaresh slowly circled him, fiery eyes raking his body. “Careful, Afshin. Your Banu Nahida has gone through such efforts to revive you. It would be disrespectful to undo all her hard work. Especially now, when she needs you so dearly.”
Dara was still struggling to breathe, but he clung to the ifrit’s words like a drowning man. “She’s alive?”
“She survived.” The ifrit licked his teeth, revealing a glimpse of glistening fangs. “Such disloyal, flighty things, your Daevas. Running from this ruler to that ruler—”
“Where is she?” Dara demanded. “What have you done with her?”
Vizaresh’s eyes lit up, incredulity crossing his face. “Oh, you poor man, you still don’t see it, do you? I am not the one you should be worried about. Nor would I do anything to cross your Manizheh. At this point, I just enjoy watching her.”
Dara wanted to strangle him with his riddles. “Where is Aeshma?”
“At her side, as always. I believe the phrase is ‘helping her reach her true potential.’”
Dara writhed against his confines, a bit of strength returning. “Let me out of these chains.”
Vizaresh snorted. “You’ll never be out of chains. Not now.” He left Dara’s view, but when he returned, it was with a hammer. “I warned you the first time you took to the winds. You shouldn’t have wasted your rebirth on these mortals and their wars.”
Alarm spiked through Dara even as Vizaresh began striking off the chains. “What does that mean?” he demanded, wrenching his left hand free. “WHAT DOES THAT—”
Dara froze. His ring was gone.
He sprang up, all thoughts
