The Forbidden Wish(71)

“Caspida,” Aladdin croaks. “I can explain—”

“Silence,” she says coldly.

I follow Aladdin for as long as I can, but too soon he is dragged beyond my senses and lost to me. Despair churns inside me like nausea, and I curl into smoke on the floor of the lamp. Where is Nardukha now, when I need my freedom most? Why has he not come? Have I been played for a fool? I knew I should not have taken his deal. I knew he couldn’t be trusted.

“I must withdraw for a while,” says Caspida, her voice starting to break. “I have much to think about.”

She and her Watchmaidens turn to go, heading for the back door of the temple, but Sulifer’s voice stops them short.

“I’m afraid I cannot let you go, Your Highness,” he says.

Caspida turns. I can hear the astonishment in her voice. “What did you say?”

“Guards,” says Sulifer softly, “arrest the princess.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Caspida cries.

Sulifer’s voice is hard as steel. “Princess Caspida, you stand accused of complicity with sorcery and communion with demons.”

“This is absurd!”

“Did you not receive the jinni Zahra to your chambers several weeks ago?”

“That proves nothing.” I can hear Caspida’s composure fracturing like ice beneath a hammer. “I did not know her true nature. I knew nothing of—”

“That will be determined by the judges.”

“The judges!” She laughs acidly. “The judges are your leashed dogs, trained to tear apart whomever you point out.”

“Imprison her,” says Sulifer. “And her handmaidens too.”

I sense the soldiers moving toward the girls, but they never reach them. Nessa and Khavar slice through their midst like a sharp and deadly breeze, while Ensi flings poisoned powder in a glittering arc. Soldiers fall, clutching their throats and chests, as the girls’ attack parts them like a scythe through dry grass. Caspida spins free of the soldiers holding her, felling them both with a series of strikes, her bare hands slipping past their defenses to decimate their nerve points, leaving them twitching on the ground. Before Sulifer, Darian, or the remaining guards can make a move, the girls vanish, running from the temple and disappearing into the palace.

“After them,” Sulifer says to Darian in a low voice. “Bring that girl to me, whatever it takes! Wait—give it to me first.”

I can feel Darian’s hesitation, but he slowly gives the lamp over to his father. Sulifer’s will replaces Darian’s, clamping down on my mind like an iron cage.

The prince calls the soldiers to himself, and they run from the temple.

Just like that, all comes undone.





Chapter Twenty-Three


THE DAY PASSES IN A BLUR.

Sulifer meets with members of the council. There are many hushed conversations in the shadows of the corridors. I don’t listen. I withdraw utterly into myself, cowering in my lamp, the darkness around me filled with whispers.

This is your fault.

You failed him.

You’ve killed him.

I don’t try to block out the words, because I know they are true. This is the price of Aladdin’s second wish, the wish I convinced him to make. The price of every lie is that the truth will always come out. I knew that, I knew it, and yet I still led him into it. And for what? Where is Zhian? Where is my freedom? Why am I still bound to my lamp? Like a smith with a lump of twisted metal, I begin forging my fear into anger. Sooner or later, Sulifer will have to call me from the lamp. When he does, I don’t know what I’ll do, Habiba. But I have to do something. I can’t just let them execute Aladdin.

Later that night, when Sulifer is alone in his rooms, poring over a map on his desk, a knock sounds at the door, and Darian enters. I stir from my black fog to listen.

“Well?” Sulifer rises from his desk. “Where is Caspida?”

Darian hesitates a moment, then says softly, “She’s gone. We scoured the palace, but there wasn’t a sign of her or her girls. We believe they fled into the lower city, and the guards will be searching all night.”

Without a word, Sulifer steps forward and backhands him, sending Darian reeling into the wall. He freezes there, his back to his father, clutching the stones as if trying to melt into them.

“Failure,” hisses the vizier. His entire being transforms, as if he has shed his mask of composure to reveal the true man beneath. “I give you every chance in the world to make something of yourself, and you bring me failure!”

“I found the lamp!” says Darian defensively, turning around.

Sulifer grabs the front of his coat and backhands him repeatedly. “Do not talk back to me, boy! You failed to bring the lamp to me the first time. You failed to wed the princess. You failed to bring her to me.” With each statement his blows grow harder, until blood spurts from Darian’s nose. Only then does his father release him, and Darian stumbles away, holding his sleeve to his face.

“Well?” Sulifer snarls.

A bit dazed, Darian drops to his knees and lowers his head. “Thank you, Father,” he says miserably.

“Thank you for what?”

“For disciplining me in my youth. I hear and receive your admonishment.” The words are rote, flat. He has said them many times, I suspect, and the feeling has long been sucked out of them.