“Go,” she whispered.
The shedu leapt into the air.
Nahri’s dignity lasted approximately the length of time it took her to suck in a breath for the scream that followed. She clutched the shedu’s neck, burying her face in its mane and digging her knees into its side like a crab. The frigid air tore over her back, ripping away her scarf and making her wonder if freezing to death would really have been all that bad.
But after another moment of not falling and smashing on the ground, Nahri tried to relax. You are the Banu Nahida, she reminded herself. The “daughter of Anahid.”
She would not show these creatures her fear.
Summoning every bit of courage she could, Nahri peeked up from the shedu’s mane. They were rising higher, the mountain range shrinking to a stitched wound of rock and snow far below.
She struggled for air, feeling breathless as they ascended. The ring scorched against her finger, and her dizziness eased, but the air still felt too thin. They flew into a cloud bank, and Nahri shuddered at the brush of unseen hands and wings. There were whispers all around her, voices that didn’t sound like any kind of creature she knew.
The clouds dissipated, and the shedu landed, the ground shrouded by mists. Nahri slipped from its back. One of its wings curved protectively around her. She could see nothing but swirling snow.
But she could hear. Flapping and rustling, like a library of books having their pages shaken out above her head. Nahri looked up.
There were a dozen flocks of peris flying above her. Scores. Perhaps hundreds, the creatures dipping and diving and soaring in formation. Avian bodies with silver scales flashed and cut through the clouds, here one moment, gone the next. Wings were winks of color: bright lime and peacock blue, burnt saffron and indigo night. Colorless eyes were everywhere, all focused on Nahri, pinning her down in a temple of ice and air.
Without warning, three landed. The one from the cliff with the pearl-colored wings and two more in shades of ruby and sapphire. They circled her, their long feathers—as long as Nahri was tall—dragging through the frost. A chittering erupted among them that, despite her magic, Nahri could not make out.
She crossed her arms, resisting the urge to hug herself. It was just so cold. Her thin robe was meant for Ta Ntry’s heat, and Nahri’s exposed hair, tossed in the icy gusts, had frozen in stiff curls. The ice spread over everything, tracing in wild swirls and fronds, light snow dusting her skin and catching in her eyelashes.
With the creatures stalking her like vultures, Nahri again found herself wishing for a weapon. Not that there was a point. She’d seen Khayzur use wind magic to bring down the marid-controlled Gozan when it was a watery serpent the size of a mountain. The djinn spoke of the peris with awe; they were creatures said to have flown to the heavens and listened to angels. To exist in a separate, unknowable realm.
And to supposedly never interfere with the lives of mortal, lesser creatures like djinn and humans. Khayzur had been killed, after all, for the “transgression” of saving Dara’s and Nahri’s lives.
None of which explained why they had snatched her out of a djinn stronghold in Ta Ntry. She looked around. They were surrounded by a seemingly endless expanse of white, towering walls that shifted and moved beyond the clouds.
The ruby peri clucked something to his fellows, sounding distinctly disapproving. If Khayzur had exuded warmth despite his strange appearance, this one seemed as coolly aloof as the air spirits were rumored to be, his colorless gaze and crimson mask arresting. His head bobbed and darted like an owl as he studied her.
“What?” she demanded in Divasti. “What are you staring at?”
The ruby peri seemed unruffled. “Banu Nahri e-Nahid,” he replied plainly, as though the question were honest. “A daeva of part human heritage and the current bearer of the ring of Suleiman the Lawgiver.”
All right, maybe not every peri had mastered sarcasm. “What do you want?” Nahri skittered back when he drew nearer, pressing against the shedu’s warm flank. “Why have you taken me here?”
Her unease must have been obvious, for the sapphire peri spoke for the first time. “You are safe,” they assured her gently. This peri looked older, their blue feathers tinged with silver and lines creasing their pale eyes. “We could not harm you even if we desired it. Your human blood protects you.”
“A lie. You’ve already tried to harm me—you would have left me to die on a cliff. And it’s not even the first time. You sent a rukh after Dara and me!”
“The rukh was sent to follow the Afshin after much discussion,” the pearl peri corrected. “But they are wild creatures. Who can predict what happens when they are hungry?”
Rage boiled in Nahri again. “So sending a starving predator the size of a house across our path was permitted, while Khayzur’s saving our lives was punished with death?”
“Yes,” the peri declared, giving Nahri a careful look. “There had been whispers and warnings for years about a daeva who would upset the balance of the elemental races. Our people took counsel, and Khayzur betrayed it when he saved the Afshin the first time. He was warned. He knew the consequences.”
“She is too young.” It was the sapphire peri. “Too angry.”
“Zaydi al Qahtani was not much older when his people were given the knowledge of their weapons,” the ruby peri countered.
“And he took nearly as many lives as were saved,” the other peri retorted. “We agreed then that mortals did not have the wisdom to receive our guidance.”
Zaydi al Qahtani. “Wait.” Nahri glanced between the arguing creatures. “The peris gave the Geziris their zulfiqars?”
“Indirectly,” the sapphire one said swiftly. “Certain paths were crossed, and pieces left to complete. The final steps
