The curse Sobek had cast upon her appearance clung to her skin in a shining dew. It would be simple to throw it off, to remove from herself the guise that had granted her a life in the human world.
I am who I am because of that human world. It wasn’t the Banu Nahida who’d driven the peris to their knees, it was the con artist of Cairo, and Nahri wouldn’t cast her away. Instead, she turned her attention outward, drawing the veil back over the mountains and hiding their kingdom from the outer world like a mother tucking in a child.
But Nahri wasn’t done. She’d dealt harshly with the peris; however, she knew now the marid deserved a fairer deal.
She reached out with her magic and spotted them immediately. There were only two people in Daevabad that Nahri hadn’t needed to restore power to, the two men whose paths had tangled with hers even as they each went their own way, claimed by opposing factions and families, by the elements themselves. Water and fire and earth. Held in check. Balanced.
Anahid had raised a city from the water. Now it was time for her descendant to raise it even farther. Nahri reached for the city’s bedrock and shifted it as though resetting a spine. The ground roiled beneath her feet.
She gritted her teeth, magic tearing through her. “Dara,” she managed. “The city, the buildings … keep them safe.”
Dara didn’t hesitate. Rejuvenated, he soared off on the next wind.
Nahri reached for the embrace of the mountains, pulling them close as if dragging a boat on a line. A very large boat. She sensed the water of the lake rush up to attack …
… and then it stopped, peace settling over it.
Ali. She knew the familiar touch of his magic and could not help but feel a similar calm as the water began to recede and change, a wild river twisting around the city to bar it off from the lake as the mountains closed between them. Nahri drove the mountains higher, the new boundary between their peoples, their realms. The lake vanished from sight, boats getting caught in new green hills and rocky promontories as the water departed and the mists faded.
The sun kissed her face, and Nahri swayed, weary beyond measure. “Is the lake gone?” she asked, stars blossoming across her vision once again.
Jamshid let out a choked sound of disbelief. “I … yes. You put a mountain in front of it.”
“Oh, good,” Nahri slurred. “It worked.” And then she fell into her brother’s arms as darkness—denied multiple times now—finally stole her.
PART FOUR
45
DARA
It was remarkable that for a man of fourteen centuries, Dara was acutely certain he’d never been more uncomfortable in his life.
The hospital room was packed, the air stuffy and loaded with more tension than a room had any business containing. It was a group that should not have been together, but for the unconscious woman at its center holding them fast—and perhaps more importantly, keeping them peaceful. Because Dara suspected the only thing preventing him and the Qahtani prince from coming to blows was the fear of Nahri’s wrath.
Alizayd chose that moment to look his way, his newly yellow-dappled eyes eerie and unreadable. Dara glared back, his arms crossed over his chest. He was not leaving. Not even if Razu, Kartir, and Jamshid had all tried taking him aside and suggesting a visit to the Nahid hospital at which he’d gone on a murder spree, in a section of the city he’d pulverized, was perhaps not the most diplomatic gesture to make.
Dara wasn’t budging until Nahri opened her eyes.
Aqisa must have noticed the two men glaring at each other. She leaned closer to Alizayd, whispering in Geziriyya while caressing the handle of the knife at her waist.
But it was Subha who spoke. “I am very close to throwing you all out,” the shafit doctor warned, handing a cold compress to Jamshid. “Don’t think I won’t.” She threw a darker look Dara’s way. “And don’t think I’m impressed by your bluster. I still have my pistol—I know how to make you run.”
Dara bristled, Aqisa laughed, and Zaynab coughed loudly, seeming to try and cover her companion’s troublemaking.
“Aqisa, why don’t we go check on my brother?” the princess suggested, grabbing the other woman’s arm.
Jamshid glanced up. “Tell Muntadhir I’m coming to him next to check the bandage on his eye, and if he’s fussed with it, I’m going to stick him in the eastern ward with the other children until he learns to follow directions.”
“Will do.” The Qahtani princess swept past Dara like he was a speck of dirt.
Aqisa, however, did stop. “Still hope to gut you one day,” she said with a pleasant smile before following Zaynab.
Dara grunted in response, and Razu laid a hand on his shoulder. She and Elashia had planted themselves on either side of him, and Dara got the strong impression that if he made any sudden movements, he was going to find out just what kind of magic the women held.
But all other thoughts fled when Nahri stirred, mumbling in her sleep. Dara’s heart lurched, and Razu tightened her grip on his shoulder.
Subha knelt at Nahri’s side. “Banu Nahida?” she called softly. “Can you hear me?”
Nahri blinked slowly, clearly fighting the last vestiges of sleep. The sight made Dara ache, reminding him of the mornings on their journey so long ago. “Subha?” she croaked. “Is it really you?”
The doctor smiled. “Welcome back, my friend.”
Nahri looked weary and more than a little confused. “I’m sorry about your headache. And one of you …” Her dazed black gaze traveled the room. “One of you is so nauseated I can’t focus.”
The shafit girl Dara hadn’t been introduced to—the extremely disreputable-looking one who’d been waving a gun at Alizayd’s side when they burst onto the roof after Nahri had passed out—flushed. “Sorry. I made some poor choices when celebrating our victory.”
Faint surprise lit Nahri’s face.
