Siti didn’t argue, going silent. “I wanted to tell you,” she said at last. “There were so many times I came close. But how could I speak about what I am to Agent Fatma, at the Ministry of Alchemy, Enchantments, and Supernatural Entities? I’m right there, in the last word of your damned title. All I saw was you regarding me as some curiosity. A specimen to study. Just another thing that needed minding.”
Ramses meowed, a warning they were getting too loud, and Fatma felt her face flush. Would that have really been her reaction? Was it part of her reaction now? She recalled Benny’s words on secrets. Usually the secrets we keep deep down … we hide away because we’re afraid what other people might think. How they might judge us, if they knew. Maybe that was worth considering. But there was more at stake here.
“That other you tried to kill me tonight.” Her hand went reflexively to her neck. “Is it something you can’t control? When you’re … a djinn.” The word was still hard to say.
Siti closed her eyes, as if facing the memory was too much. “When I’m my other self, I feel … free. Everything is just—more. Every sensation. Every awareness. And I love that.” She opened her eyes again, fixing on Fatma. “Do you know where I go at night? When I leave your bed before dawn? To fly. To soar above the city. If you could see it the way I do—like a glittering jewel to snatch up!” Her hand reached to mimic the motion, a moment of joy lighting her face.
“I don’t have sad tales to tell you. I’m not some tragic character from a story, lost between two worlds. I revel in who I am. What I am.” Her voice hardened. “That monster, he took that from me. Took away my freedom.” She tapped a forefinger to her temple, face contorting as she searched for words to explain. “I could hear his voice. In my head. Like he was inside me, shouting, so I couldn’t hear anything else. The part of me that’s me, got lost in that voice. I tried to fight, but he just pushed me aside. I was there but not there—buried somewhere deep, sunken away, while my body did what he wanted. What he demanded. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
Fatma searched Siti’s face, and what she saw there left her shaken. The most daring and reckless person she’d ever known was terrified. She remembered staring into her lifeless half-djinn eyes. Zagros had that same empty look as he tried to murder her. She recalled the king’s djinn advisor, forced into silence. And an Ifrit, tamed into a faithful hound.
“The imposter … he can control djinn,” she said breathlessly. The revelation chilled her.
Siti nodded grimly. “He’s more dangerous than we ever thought. Far more.”
That was putting it lightly. It wasn’t just dangerous, it was a disaster! Worse, this imposter had a plan. Everything he’d done was methodical, with purpose. And now he’d stolen the means to re-create the Clock of Worlds. None of this was good. In fact, it was terrible. They had vastly underestimated what they were up against.
Fatma looked to Siti, tracing the outline of her face, which had taken to stare out the balcony, imagining her fingers running along its curves.
“What stopped you, then? From killing me?”
Siti looked back solemnly, then gave a surprising laugh, wiping a tear from one cheek. “You did. That beautiful voice of yours, calling out my name. It was like throwing a rope into a dark hole. I grabbed it and climbed up, until I could get out.”
Fatma was quiet. Siti may have heard her voice, but it wasn’t her name that had broken that trance. “You didn’t answer when I called your name,” she said finally. “You only answered to this.” She fished a piece of jewelry from her jacket, fashioned as a snarling lioness. She hadn’t discarded the brooch since ripping it away. Siti accepted the silver carving, her face bemused. So she had no idea, then. No memory of what actually happened.
Fatma’s immediate instinct was to say nothing. Yet weren’t there enough secrets between them? She sighed inwardly and, taking a breath, began to explain—as best as anyone could explain—what she’d called forth and what she’d seen behind the woman’s eyes.
When she finished, Siti whispered an unfamiliar prayer. “Blessed Lady of Flame, Daughter of Slaughter. She for whom the two skies open at once after she shows herself in splendor!” Her wide eyes fixed on Fatma. “You were blessed to have looked into the Eye of Ra!”
“I tell you I saw … something … lurking inside you, and that’s your only response?”
Siti gave a slight shrug. “I’m a child of the goddess. She does with me as she wishes.”
Fatma couldn’t say why, but for some reason that answer rankled.
“Besides,” Siti went on. “She came to you.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’ve spoken prayers to the Blessed Lady. Given offerings. Praised her many names. Yet she’s never shown me her face. You called her and she came.” Siti paused in thought. “Perhaps you and the goddess share a special bond. One of which until now you were unaware.”
That, Fatma decided, was absolutely terrifying. She whispered her own prayer and changed the subject.
“You fled,” she said, her tone accusatory. “When you came back to yourself. You just … left me there.”
Siti lowered her eyes. “I had to. Seeing what I’d just done. Knowing I could be used, like a thing. I didn’t trust myself. I needed to get as far away from him as possible.”
Fatma ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t blame you for what happened tonight,” she said at last, surprised that she meant it. “You were being used, and I know you wouldn’t do what you did, intentionally.” The relief that stole over Siti’s face made it hard to say the rest. She plowed on anyway. “But I can’t just make things go
