The Forbidden Wish(12)

“Zahra, are you all right?” Aladdin asks, halting beside me.

I shake my head and struggle to stay on my feet as my head reels. It’s like being caught in a landslide. Shaza said I was the only one with a chance of getting through these gates—but even I might not be strong enough. I try to force myself into motion with the thought of freedom, but all I can manage is one half step before my stomach twists violently and I drop to one knee. The sea wind batters me, and I wish I could turn to smoke and let it carry me away.

“It’s warded,” I whisper. “Against the jinn. I can’t . . . I can’t get through.”

The doors suddenly groan, and I look up to see the elephants beginning to move, drawing them shut. Alarmed, Aladdin looks at the gate, then back to me. “Zahra, you have to go through. If you don’t, the guards will know what you are. They’ll kill us both right here. Killing jinn and anyone who sympathizes with them—that’s what they do. They’re Eristrati.”

He says the word as if I should know what it means, and I study the guards closer. They all carry spears of iron, their shafts carved with more Eskarr glyphs. These are no ordinary soldiers; they are armed to fight jinn, and they know what they’re doing. Four thousand years may be quite a long life, but I’m not ready to be done living just yet. Not when I’m this close to breaking free of my cursed lamp.

“I can do it,” I murmur.

“Are you sure?” He’s studying me as if he’s worried I’ll pass out. I very well may.

I nod, not entirely certain but willing to try. Not because I’m truly worried the guards will kill us—Aladdin does have two wishes left, and I’m far from unskilled in defending myself. But because I know this is it. This is the last chance I’ll ever get. If I fail, I don’t even think I’ll protest when Nardukha strikes me down. I can’t take another year in that lamp, much less an eternity, not when a chance at freedom is so close.

“I have an idea,” I say. “But I’ll need your help.”

“Hurry,” he says, watching as the doors swing inward. Already they are half closed.

I conjure a small puff of smoke beneath my dress, letting it settle over my stomach, making me round as a melon. Add the pain in my eyes and my tight breathing and I am the perfect image of a woman going into labor. Aladdin looks down, makes a strange noise deep in his throat, then nods.

“Right. We can do this. No problem.” His tone is a little high, but he grabs my hand. “Let’s go!”

I must lean on Aladdin, and not only for show—the closer we get, the harder it is for me to hold out. The air feels like knives, the ground like burning coals. It seems all the elements bend themselves toward crushing me, repulsing me, grinding me into the earth. Somehow, his heartbeat gives me strength. Perhaps it helps to hide my jinn nature from the wards. Either way, I can feel myself gaining a little more control of my own body. I burst forward, and together we run for the gates. They’re seconds away from shutting entirely.

“We won’t fit,” I say.

“Yes, we will,” Aladdin replies through clenched teeth, as if he can will them open with sheer stubbornness.

“If you wish for it—ugh!” As we pass through the stone gryphons, their stare seems to hone in on me. The Eskarr glyphs seem to glow. The power behind them pushes at me with the force of a hundred horses, seeking to trample me into the earth.

“My wife!” Aladdin cries to the guards. “She’s going to give birth! Stop the gates!”

The men exchange looks but remain resolute. The space between the doors shrinks until it seems not even a cat could slip through. But Aladdin remains undeterred. He sprints ahead, gasping, his shoulder crimson with blood. I don’t have to fake my own pain, as if I’m being speared from the front and hooked from behind. Everything in me screams, Turn around! Run away! But I force myself to keep moving. Spots dance across my eyes. Every thought I have is bent on maintaining human form. I ache to shift into smoke just to stop the pain.

And then we reach the gates. Aladdin stops, pushing me through first. I can hardly see at this point, and I realize I’m sobbing aloud. Ordinarily I’d be mortified at such a display of weakness, but I don’t have a thought to spare for my pride. It hurts too much.

All I can do is force myself not to shift, not to give us away. I feel Aladdin’s hand in mine, his voice in my ear, but the words make no sense. There’s shouting, arguing. Everything swims around me. I am a twig caught in a flood.

With a moan, I collapse, the false pregnant belly dissipating. Instead of hitting the ground, though, I drop into Aladdin’s arms. He lifts me and holds me against his chest, then begins running. The scent of him overwhelms me: fresh figs from this morning, goats’ milk soap he last washed his cloak with, smoke from the ruins of Neruby, wind, and sea salt. Human smells, rich and heady. I can sense his pain through his pulse, but he doesn’t slow or stop. He must be hurting as much as I am. Why doesn’t he let me go? Why doesn’t he leave the lamp and save himself? Or make a wish—if I could even grant it in this state.

With a shudder, I feel myself slip, as if from a tall tower, and I plummet into darkness with one last thought:

But I was so close . . .





Chapter Six


WHEN I COME TO, I’m lying beneath stars, my back on a hard, cold surface. I startle awake, all at once, and bolt up into a sitting position.