The Forbidden Wish(29)

“Just some maarids,” Aladdin replies. “But they put up a nasty fight. My crew was lost, and me nearly with them.”

“And yet here you are. Imohel favors you.” Darian takes a cup of a tea from a servant.

“Imohel, destiny, dumb luck . . . Something’s looking out for me, I suppose,” Aladdin returns coolly.

Darian’s eyes glitter over the rim of his cup. “How fortunate you should find our port just when your ship was on the verge of sinking entirely. The timing can be nothing but divine, wouldn’t you say?”

“I’ll leave the divine to the priests.” Aladdin laughs. “Give me solid ground beneath my feet and a cup of this wine and I’ll pray to a fig on a stick if you like.”

“Hear, hear!” says a young nobleman, lifting his glass. The others join in the toast, and Aladdin grins.

Darian glances around at the men, drinks deeply, then sets his cup down with a loud clink.

“You must be quite the voyager, Prince Rahzad, to survive an attack by the maarids. Well . . . if you can count it survival when your entire crew is killed. Tell us, how did you manage to stay alive? You must have killed dozens of the creatures.”

The men fall quiet, looking expectantly to Aladdin. The thief holds Darian’s gaze, a taut smile at his lips.

“Not all my men were lost,” Aladdin says softly.

“Ah, yes. There was a girl, wasn’t there? A servant? Pretty too, from what I hear.” Suddenly Darian gives a little gasp and snaps his fingers. “Ah . . . so that’s it.” He leans forward, grinning. “Don’t worry—I completely understand. I’ve known a few girls who could make me miss an entire battle too. I’m sure your men didn’t blame you for staying belowdecks.” He winks conspiratorially and holds up his cup for a servant to refill.

Aladdin’s hand clenches his wine cup, his face paling dangerously.

Don’t speak, I beg him silently. Don’t let him bait you.

The other men, sensing the spiking tension between the two princes, suddenly seem extremely interested in the food on their plates, but their eyes dart up furtively from Aladdin to Darian.

“Dear cousin, back at last?” says a voice, neatly severing the tension between the two boys.

The men all turn to Caspida, who steps around the screen dividing the room. Darian rises to meet her, taking her hand and bowing over it.

“Prince Rahzad, have you met my betrothed?” Darian pulls her close, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair.

Aladdin rises and bows. “Princess. I am honored.”

“She’s the most beautiful woman in the city,” says Darian. “Perhaps even the world. When we’re married, maybe I’ll take her on a grand tour of the nations, to compare her to their beauties. What do you say, my love?”

Caspida’s face is serene as porcelain, but her eyes glitter when she smiles at Darian. “Alas, the last time we went sailing, my dear cousin was overcome with seasickness and stayed below deck.”

Darian’s face goes still. “You forget yourself, my love. Go back to the women. It’s not proper for you to share bread with the men.”

She holds his gaze for a moment, and I wonder if her composure will break and she will strike him. But instead she turns and nods to Aladdin, then bids the others good evening and glides back to the women’s side, where her handmaidens are watching silently through the screen.

With a laugh, Darian sits and holds up his cup for more tea. “Women! They think it so romantic to break the rules. But what are we if we don’t hold to tradition, am I right?”

The men laugh and nod in agreement, but Aladdin stares hard at the prince.

“I’ve heard of the wonders of this city all my life,” Aladdin says. “I read about your kings and queens and generals. Can’t recall hearing of you, though. What did you say your name was?”

Darian frowns. “Darian. Son of Sulifer.”

“Oh, right. And who’s he again?”

“The vizier of all Parthenia, the commander of the Amulen military, and brother of the king.” Darian’s fingers tighten around his teacup. When he sets it down, it clinks loudly. “Perhaps you Istaryans need to update your histories.”

Aladdin shrugs. “Oh, right. Him. Yes, I do remember reading something about your vizier. Of course, after meeting him, I’m sure our historians must have been mistaken.”

Silence falls. Darian, cold as winter, says through his teeth, “Oh, do explain.”

“It’s nothing, really. Just something about how he’s been trying to rebuild the Amulen Empire. Sends grandfathers and children out to row his warships, but that he’s lost every battle he’s attempted.” Aladdin smiles. “I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding. Surely he’s not that stupid.”

Oh, gods save us.

“What did you say?” Darian rises quickly to his feet.

Everyone is staring openly in astonishment, and on the other side of the screen, Caspida presses a fist to her lips, her eyes creasing in a wince. I sense Aladdin’s muscles tensing, his anger spiking, his thoughts moving from anger to violence—time to break this party up.

With a wild honk, I launch myself upward, my large wings ponderously belaboring the air, and burst into the circle. My tail and feet overturn dishes and wine goblets, sending men yelling and cursing. I land in front of Aladdin and spread my tail feathers in a marvelous display—really, I’ve outdone myself with this form—and hop this way and that, wings flapping, avian throat screeching and honking. Caspida, laughing, disappears with her handmaidens, and a host of servants appear from the shadows where they have been lurking. They wave their arms and try to drive me out, and out I go, folding my wings and tail and honking at them as if they’re the ones interrupting. Out of the hall and into the courtyard they chase me, while others remain to help clean off the astonished and irate noblemen, including Aladdin. I lose them in the darkness and double back, shifting into a black cat to blend silently into the shadows.