He did not imagine being able to hug his mother again.
She kissed the top of his head before departing. Jamshid and Nahri were whispering furiously in Divasti.
“Wajed,” Ali called, beckoning the Qaid over. He switched to Geziriyya—this was not something he wanted anyone else to hear. “I’m going to need a boat. We’ll need to be discreet. If my mother thinks—”
“I will get you out.” Wajed sounded devastated, but they were soldiers first, and both knew protecting the people of this coast took priority over their own safety. “If this is what you have decided, my prince, it will be done.”
Ali gripped the other man’s hand. “Thank you, uncle.”
Jamshid joined them. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s not personal.”
“I know it’s not. You don’t need to apologize.”
The Daeva man looked like he had more to say. “I’ll look in the books for mentions of Tiamat. Maybe there’s something there.”
Ali could not even feign a hopeful smile. “Maybe.”
Jamshid and Wajed closed the door behind them, leaving Ali and Nahri alone.
There was a long moment of silence. The rain had finally abated, the night song of chirping insects and dripping leaves the only sound. Ali wondered if this was the last time he’d hear it.
Nahri spoke first, her voice quiet. “This reminds me of our second encounter. When I thought you were drowning in the canal, and then you wouldn’t let me look at the books in your bedroom without a chaperone.”
Ali stared at the floor. That day seemed like a lifetime ago. “I remember being pretty unbearable back then. I’m lucky you didn’t shove me in the canal.”
“I was tempted.” Nahri sat on the bed beside him. “Please look at me, my friend.”
He shook his head, fighting tears. “I can’t.”
“Ali.” Nahri touched his cheek, lifting his chin to face her. Her dark eyes were soft. “What was it you told me on the beach? It’s just you and me right now.”
Her fingers brushed the line of his beard, and then Ali broke. “I want to climb out of my skin,” he burst out. “I can still feel that thing in my head, in my body. I’m one of them. My very family is the product of some evil marid’s scheme. I have his blood, his magic running through my veins. Power he built stealing brides and devouring children.” He squeezed his eyes shut, resisting the urge to throw up. “I … that can’t be what I really am. I’m a believer,” he whispered. “How can I be descended from some demon?”
“You’re not descended from a demon, Ali, for God’s sake.” Nahri sighed. “I’m not going to justify what Sobek did to my family or his djinn descendants, but neither am I going to pretend he’s the only one who’s wanted vengeance. But you’re not him. You’ve got your mother’s blood, your grandfather’s. You’re descended from those of your ancestors who stood up to Sobek, the ones who chose to save the rest of us and paid the ultimate price.”
I devoured them. Ali’s stomach turned over. “He killed his own children. How could he do that and then save my life? Show me his magic? God, Nahri, I all but begged him to teach me more. I ached to see the currents again.”
Nahri shifted beside him, pressing one of his hands between hers. “When I first learned what the Nahids had done to the shafit, I wanted to climb out of my skin. I had imagined them as these noble healers, and learning some were monsters, that they would have killed me as a child—that they had killed children … I told Dara I was glad the djinn invaded. I think I even told him that I was glad the Nahids were dead. But it’s not that simple.” She took his face in her hands again. “You and I are not the worst of our ancestors. They don’t own us. They don’t own our heritage. Manizheh uses Nahid magic to kill; I use it to heal. Just because Sobek has used magic for evil doesn’t mean that’s what it is when you use it.”
Ali looked into her worried eyes. Nahri was so close that their heads were almost touching, and when he inhaled, he could smell the cedar incense that clung to her skin. “It’s a shame you hate politics,” he murmured. “You’d be a very good queen.”
“Yes, but then you’d be advocating for people to overthrow me and turn my throne into a table for some sort of godforsaken governing council.” Nahri gave him a broken smile, her gaze glimmering with unshed tears. “I prefer being on the same side.”
That shattered Ali again. “I wanted to do it with you,” he choked out. “To go back to Daevabad and fix things. The hospital. The government. All our foolish ideas. I wanted a future.”
Nahri pulled him into her arms, and it was everything Ali could do not to weep. To scream. He didn’t want to die. Not like this. Not now, when his people and family needed him most.
Nahri released him, wiping her eyes. “Let me heal you. Please. I’ll feel less useless.”
Ali managed a nod, slipping the sheet he’d wrapped around his shoulders low enough that Nahri could reach his heart.
But he wasn’t prepared for the press of her fingers. Not now, when his emotions were a mess and the monsoon marid had already called out his feelings for her. Ali shivered, fighting a jump when her hand trembled.
She cleared her throat. “Drop the seal.”
Ali obeyed, wincing as the familiar jab of pain came. But relief followed, the throbbing ache in his swollen nose extinguishing. Nahri’s other hand traced the gash the marid had torn in his wrist, the skin healing as her fingers brushed over it. Longing ripped through him, the fiercest he’d ever felt. The skin she’d touched felt scorched. Ali felt scorched.
Nahri dropped her hand from his heart, the magic falling. But she was
