The Banu Nahida gave her a condescending look. “Well, haven’t you grown up.” She inclined her head toward Dara. “Thank you, Afshin.”
His chest abruptly expanded, the wish fulfilled. Dara took a shaky breath, and there it was. A sliver of freedom.
He grabbed his dagger, thrust it at his throat …
“Afshin, I wish for you to put that down,” Manizheh said, the order curt but pleasant. “I wouldn’t want you to harm yourself.”
The dagger fell from his hands.
Zaynab’s gaze darted to his. Whatever despair managed to slip through the obedient mask of his face must have been enough to trigger her suspicion, because she spun back on Manizheh.
Manizheh lifted her hand as though to beckon the carriage. It was a slight movement, but enough to let Dara’s emerald ring briefly gleam in the dusty light.
Zaynab choked. “Oh my God.”
Manizheh smiled, this time with triumph. “Come, girl. Your brother has been so anxious to see you.”
39
NAHRI
Nahri yelped in surprise, stepping back and crashing into the wall behind her. The shedu was so close she could have touched it, and when it shook its head, the snow clinging to its silver-tinged mane fell upon her face.
“God preserve me,” she whispered, her slippers sliding on the icy ground as she tried to retreat, wall be damned. Nahri thrust out a hand, conjuring a fistful of flames. But it wasn’t much of a defense, and she suddenly found herself wondering if her mother hadn’t been right to learn how to control limbs.
The shedu didn’t seem impressed. It sat back on its haunches, regarding her with a catlike blend of curiosity and mild disdain. A very large cat, with muscles rippling under pale golden fur. Its eyes might have been stolen from the glistening ice around them, a silver so pale they seemed clear.
But its wings. Oh, its wings. If they’d been striking back on the banks of the Nile, they were utterly glorious now, the long, elegant feathers glittering in every color in creation, a jeweled rainbow reflecting the cascading prisms of ice and snow surrounding them.
Nahri and the shedu stared at each other for a very long moment, her ragged breathing the only sound. She didn’t know if it was the same shedu that had come upon her and Ali in a sandstorm back in Egypt—she wasn’t particularly experienced at distinguishing the faces of overly large, legendary flying cats—but the encounter hadn’t left her feeling warm.
“Is this your doing?” she demanded, motioning to the snowy mountains surrounding them. It might have been madness to try and converse with the beast, but God knew she’d done stranger things since accidentally summoning a Daeva warrior.
The shedu shook out its wings and offered a lazy blink of its eerie eyes in response.
Nahri’s temper—and fear—broke. “I’ll wrestle you,” she threatened, remembering Jamshid’s long-ago story about how their earliest ancestors tamed the shedu. “Don’t think I won’t.” It wasn’t even a bluff. Wrestling a shedu at least promised a quicker end than freezing to death on whatever mysterious mountain she’d been transported to.
“They do not speak,” a new voice cut in, its language a mix of warbles and chirps. “Though I do believe such a match would be quite entertaining.”
Nahri jumped, glancing up.
A peri smiled back.
Identical to Khayzur in form, down to the talons clutching the rock and the birdlike lower half, this peri had the face of a young woman and brilliant pearl-colored wings. A fanlike crest of dark ivory feathers sprouted from her head like a halo.
The peri hopped down, taking advantage of Nahri’s speechlessness to join the shedu, with which she exchanged a mischievous look. Then she nodded at the fire still twirling in Nahri’s hand. “It is not an encounter with a daeva if they are not attempting to burn something in a quick-tempered rage.”
Nahri felt both called out and defensive of her people. “I’m going to do a lot more than burn something if you don’t return me to Ta Ntry.”
Another playful expression danced over the peri’s thin lips. Amusement, appraisal … things that indeed made Nahri want to set her on fire. “Are you not curious as to why we have invited you?”
“Invited? You kidnapped me!”
A tone of distress entered the creature’s voice. “Oh no, we would never do such a thing. We could not, not to a lesser creature. Ours is an invitation. It is entirely your choice as to whether you climb upon my companion and fly to hear our proposal.” The peri stroked the shedu’s back. The winged lion arched under her hand and let out a grumbly sound of satisfaction. “Or you may stay here. Though be warned that the winds are treacherous at night, enough to strip a mortal’s flesh from their bones.”
That was Nahri’s choice? “Return me to Ta Ntry,” she demanded again. “If I die here, will it not be on your hands?”
The peri raised her wings in what might have been a shrug. “Would it truly be on our hands? We tried to warn you, and the weather, it is so unreliable …”
“Don’t you control the winds?”
“Perhaps.” The peri’s pale eyes glittered. “But come, daughter of Anahid. I do believe we can help each other.”
“I was told peris don’t get involved with mortal affairs.”
“And that is correct. Yet on occasion—a very rare occasion—we may point out possible corrections. Your choice, of course.” With that, the peri spread her wings and took to the air, soaring off.
Nahri watched her go, pride and indecision warring inside her. But despite what the peri claimed, she had no real choice.
She turned to the shedu. “I’m a terrible rider,” she warned. “And if you try to eat me, I’m going to give you ulcers.”
The shedu might not have been able to speak, but Nahri would swear she saw understanding in its silver gaze before it folded its wings and knelt at her feet.
“Oh,” she said. “Er, thanks.” Feeling unnerved, she clambered onto its back. The lion was warm
