Coming back to himself, Ali glanced blankly around. He could smell his blood on the wet air, a new throb coming with every beat of his heart. He rubbed his eyes, trying to make sense of his surroundings. Their boat was destroyed, nothing but fiery debris bobbing on the coursing river.
And Nahri was gone.
Panic rushed through him, and Ali pushed himself up into a sitting position. Blood filled his mouth, dripping past his lips when he spoke. “Nahri …”
A chuckle drew his attention to the riverbank, Qandisha standing in the haze of oily smoke. She inclined her head toward the dark water. “Too late.”
The meaning of her words took a moment to land.
The river. Nahri.
Ali plunged into the Nile.
The cool liquid was a balm against his skin. Ali sheathed his blades, summoning the last bit of his strength to swim, but relief vanished the moment he called on his marid powers again. The magic was so hard to hold, the very thing he needed to find Nahri sending spikes of pain stabbing through his chest.
No matter. Ali forced himself to swim deeper, his limbs protesting, blood streaming from his wounds. He expanded his powers, searching farther, but the drifting bodies of the ghouls confused his senses, and the fire burning on the surface sent jagged, unreliable light flickering through the murky water in a way that made him feel like he was trapped in a muck-covered madhouse of glass and mirrors. Then …
There!
A spark of warmth, swiftly growing colder. Ali raced along the bottom, spotting the serrated outline of the broken boat where ghouls had pinned Nahri to the riverbed. Her eyes were closed, her dress drifting around her motionless body.
Ali was there the next moment, ripping away the ghouls and pulling her into his arms. He shot to the surface, kicking hard.
“Nahri, breathe,” he gasped as they broke through into the air. “Breathe!”
Nothing. Nahri remained limp in his arms, silent and unresponsive. Frantic, Ali pushed the strands of wet hair away from her face. Her eyes were closed, her lips tinged with blue.
No. God, no. PLEASE. Hugging her to his chest, Ali staggered toward the shallows and laid her on the muddy bank.
“Nahri, please,” he begged, clapping her back. “Please!”
Qandisha strode forward. Muscles rippled below her fiery skin, light gleaming on the metal in her braids and the knifesharp gems of her chest plate.
She loomed over him. “You should have stayed in the water.” Hunger filled her eyes. “I wonder what would happen if I cut the seal from your face, if your soul would be open for me to steal.” She reached out, her claws glittering. “I think I shall try it …”
She hadn’t even grazed Ali’s cheek when everything went very, very cold.
The water lapping at his feet grew chilled, the air turning so icy that Ali’s ragged breaths became steam and goose bumps broke across Nahri’s bare arms. He whirled around, watching in bewilderment as great clouds of mist billowed from the Nile, extinguishing the fires dotting its churning surface with an angry hiss.
The unnatural darkness that had accompanied Qandisha vanished next, beams of moonlight breaking through the cloudless night and the sounds of life returning—insects and frogs and the wind through the reeds, so loud it was like a chorus.
Something moved in the black water. Ali grabbed Nahri, pulling her away as a muscled tail lashed his legs with a swipe of scaled flesh.
Then the largest crocodile he’d ever seen burst from the Nile.
The creature let out a bellow that sliced through the night, shaking the trees and silencing the frogs. Its roar cut through Ali, sending a surge of deep primal fear galloping through his body. With a wet snap, the enormous crocodile transformed, rearing up on its back legs as its reptilian form gave way to that of a man. His body was slender and wiry, his skin an unnatural dark green that spread in a pattern of leathery scales down lanky limbs. Stubby reptilian claws crowned long webbed fingers, bony ridges running down a bare scalp.
Ali did not consider himself a coward. He had dueled with the greatest warrior of his people, faced down a mob of ghouls, and had an ifrit run claws over his throat. But staring at the creature that charged out of the misty Nile, the very land and river gone still in submission, he had never felt so utterly small.
The marid—for Ali knew the very moment the water magic stilled in his blood what he was looking at—studied them all with the cool regard of an uncaring predator. He moved like a reptile, shoulders and neck swaying and twisting as yellow-and-blackdappled eyes shifted between Qandisha and Ali before fixing on the ghouls.
They immediately stilled. The gray veneer of magic vanished from the faces of the slain men, replaced by masks of peace. And then, with murmured sighs, they sank below the water.
The marid hissed, turning back. “Qatesh.”
Qandisha stepped away, shocked fear crossing her face. “Sobek,” she whispered.
The marid—Sobek, she had called him—took a halting step in the ifrit’s direction. “You took life in my waters,” he accused her, gesturing to where the ghouls had slipped away.
Qandisha was still backing up. Ali hadn’t known she could look so afraid. “I did not know you were here. They said you were gone. Killed by—”
“GET OUT OF MY LAND.”
Ali would have been on the other side of the continent, had the marid bellowed that at him, but Qandisha held her ground.
“The daevas are fire-born,” she argued. “You have no right to them.”
“I have every right to them. Leave.”
Flames twisted through her hands. “You cannot hurt me. I am an ally of the daeva Darayavahoush, the one who commands you.”
Sobek’s eyes flashed. “No daeva commands me, and you are alone.” Hunger laced into his voice. “It has been an age since I devoured one of your kind. You have already transgressed; declare yourself equal and I
