“I’m not ready to give up yet.” Nahri racked her mind, trying to think of any possibilities they hadn’t explored.
She frowned. “Where does it hurt?” she asked. “When you use your water magic, where exactly?”
“My heart, I suppose,” he said, touching the striped fabric of his shawl where it crossed his chest.
“Let me see.”
Ali looked embarrassed again, but obeyed, drawing down just enough of the shawl to reveal his heart.
You are a doctor, Nahri told herself, thoroughly annoyed by the effect that following the beat of Ali’s heart—along his very firm chest—was having on her. Creator damn all that sparring. She didn’t miss Ali shiver at her touch, his pulse picking up, but Nahri dismissed it. Well-formed or not, Alizayd al Qahtani had probably never allowed himself an impure thought.
A shame. Now Nahri did flush, fighting the urge to slap some sense into herself. No more journeying with attractive warriors on dangerous quests after this. She clearly had a problem.
“Is something wrong?”
“Yes, you’re talking and distracting me.” Nahri pressed her fingers closer, probing the muscle. “I feel like I’m examining you with my eyes closed,” she complained. “If my magic comes back, I’m never taking it for granted again.”
“Am I allowed to respond?”
“No. I want you to try a little water magic. Just enough to trigger some pain.”
Ali made an exaggerated show of obedience and then beckoned toward the river. A tendril of water had no sooner flown to his hand than he flinched, the muscles seizing under her fingers.
“Hmm,” she murmured, pulling her hand back. “I don’t—”
“Wait,” Ali grabbed her hand, pressing it hard against his chest. He’d closed his eyes and they were darting beneath his lids like he was dreaming. “There’s something—I think if I …”
The seal blazed on his face and then flushed out, the light vanishing to leave the eight-pointed ebony star stark and dull against the warmer hue of his black skin. Power surged through Nahri, so fast it left her breathless. The steady beat of her heart and the faster one of Ali’s. The rushing of blood through veins and air through throats.
Her magic.
After so many weeks, even a hint of it felt like Nahri had drunk too much wine, a heady sensation of strength and invulnerability. Her aching muscles and scratches vanished.
Ali gasped, his eyes shooting open.
Nahri dropped her hand. Her magic instantly fell away, but she was encouraged. “It worked!”
“Wow,” he whispered, his shoulders dropping. Sweat broke out across his brow.
Her glee faded a bit. “Are you okay?”
“I think so.” He rubbed the spot over his heart and then raised his palm, snapping his fingers as though to conjure a flame. “It didn’t last.”
“It’s a start.”
Ali reached for her hand, looking drained but no less determined. “Let’s try again.”
“If you insist.” Nahri touched his chest, and the seal fell even faster this time. She inhaled, welcoming the embrace of her magic.
Ali grimaced. “Still burns when I use my water abilities.”
“Just hold it another second,” she urged, trying to calm the spikes of pain radiating through his body. “I want to examine your heart.”
She closed her eyes, letting her abilities envelop her. It was as if she’d been too long underwater, surfacing in a world whose sensations overwhelmed her. Before her, Ali was a maze of muscle and tissue, coursing blood and churning fluid.
And something very wrong.
“The ring,” Nahri whispered, stunned. She could sense its hard contours just below the surface of his heart, so close it seemed almost possible to pluck it free. Nahri wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it wasn’t that. She hadn’t sensed the ring in Ghassan’s body and thought perhaps it was meant to bond with one’s heart in some sort of formless state, reappearing only when the organ was burned.
She opened her eyes to find Ali gazing at her with a strange expression. “What?” she asked.
“I … your face. I think I’m seeing how you look without the marid’s curse on your appearance.” Ali seemed stunned. “So that’s how he knew. You have Suleiman’s seal marked on your face.”
Ghassan’s words from that night came back to her. They all bear it. Every single Nahid. “Your father said that to me once. He claimed all Nahids had it.”
Including Jamshid. But Nahri didn’t mention her brother. No matter her and Ali’s growing closeness, Jamshid’s identity wasn’t her secret to divulge.
Ali fell back against the column, visibly worn out. “I didn’t know that.” He rubbed his chest. “By the Most High, it feels like a city worth’s of magic just burned through me.”
Nahri hesitated, torn between wanting to know more and wanting to change the subject. “What else did you see?”
“What do you mean?”
Was there anything this man wasn’t obtuse about? “The curse, Ali, the one that makes me appear human. How do I look without it?”
He inclined his head. “I think you had the glow to your skin, but I was more focused on Suleiman’s mark.” He must have picked up on her disappointment. “Don’t tell me that’s something you fret over.”
She was immediately annoyed. “Maybe it seems shallow to a pureblood prince, but you might have noticed the rest of our world is obsessed with whether or not one looks shafit. I had an entire fleet of servants whose job was to cover me in magical powders. Yes, I fret over it.”
Ali winced. “I’m sorry.” He glanced around and then nodded at the water. “Tomorrow when the light is better, let’s try this again in a place where you can see your reflection.”
“I don’t need you to do that.”
“Who says you need anything? Maybe I want to study my own reflection. After all, I hear I’m well-formed.”
Equal parts embarrassment and warmth stole through her. “Did you just make a joke? Surely you would have needed the permission of at least three clerics.”
Ali smiled. “I’ll be sure to check with the appropriate authorities when we get to Ta Ntry.” But then he flinched, again, kneading the spot over his heart.
