Hala caught my gaze as the two of them knelt in the sand side by side. It’d been an unspoken pact between us Demdji to keep one eye on Imin after that night Navid declared his love for her. None of us had ever seen Imin’s walls drop for anyone in camp before Navid.
Imin and Hala might share a Djinni father, but by the sound of things they couldn’t have had more different mothers. Rumour had it Hala had torn her mother’s mind apart, driving her crazy on purpose because she hated the woman so much. The Rebellion had found Imin in a prison waiting for execution at the hands of the Gallan. Imin had spent sixteen years hidden in the house of grandparents who shielded their daughter’s Demdji child. Alone and lonely, but safe. Until the day Imin’s grandmother collapsed from the heat on their doorstep. Imin was otherwise alone in the house. The sixteen-year-old waited, hoping a neighbour would notice. But finally, desperate, Imin ran out to help wearing the same slender girl’s form she’d donned to fight the heat that morning. The body was too weak to drag a grown woman, though. Imin shifted into a man’s shape out in the open.
Word reached the Gallan. They killed Imin’s whole family on the same doorstep, as they tried to block the soldiers’ path.
Until Navid, Imin had treated anyone who wasn’t a Demdji with distrust. Even me, on account of how I’d thought I was human for sixteen years.
It would take the slightest misstep from Navid to send Imin back behind walls. But even Hala hadn’t been able to find anything wrong with him, and she’d been trying real hard. Anyone could see the way Navid looked at Imin. And it didn’t change no matter what body our shapeshifter wore, woman or man, Mirajin or foreign.
The Holy Father stood between Navid and Imin as they faced us, sitting in the sand, legs crossed. He recited the usual blessings for a wedding as he filled two large clay bowls with fire. He handed one to Imin and one to Navid. He spoke of how humanity was made by the First Beings out of water and earth, carved by wind, and lit with a spark of Djinni fire. He reminded us that when Princess Hawa and Attallah became the first mortals ever to wed, their fires were twinned and burned so much brighter for it. All these centuries later we still uttered the same words they had.
As he spoke we came up, one by one, the women of the camp to Imin, the men to Navid. Each of us dropped something of ours into their fire to bless the union. In Dustwalk I’d always given an empty bullet casing or a lock of hair. I didn’t have anything else to give.
For the first time in my life I had more, and I’d had to think about what I ought to give, as Shazad and I got ready. For just a second my fingers had drifted over the red sheema. The one Jin had given me in the burned-out mountain mining town of Sazi. As I closed my eyes for Shazad to press dark kohl into my lids, I could picture myself tossing it into the fire, watching the red cloth catch. It would go up in seconds. I was angry but I didn’t hate him. I’d fastened it around my waist like a sash instead, the way I always did with Shazad’s clothes.
I stood behind Hala, who held her hand above the fire, pricking each of the remaining three fingers on her left hand with a needle in quick succession. Blood was the traditional offering from family members, even if the father Imin and Hala shared didn’t bleed. Bright red dots welled at the tips of her golden fingers, then sizzled noisily as the blood hit the fire. As Hala moved out of the way I held up my gift above the fire and a handful of desert sand slipped out between my fingers, scattering into the flames. I caught the slightest hint of a smile from Imin as I stepped aside, leaving room for Shazad to drop a small comb of hers into the fire. Next to her, Ahmed dropped a Xichian coin into Navid’s bowl. He wore a clean black kurta edged with red that made him look more like he belonged in a palace than in a rebellion. He and Shazad made a well-matched pair, standing side by side in front of the twinned wedding fires.
Behind Ahmed, the twins, Izz and Maz, were holding a blue feather, alternately snatching it out of each other’s hands and shoving each other in a silent war over which one would get to drop it into the fire. The warning look Shazad gave them as she turned around was loud enough to get them both to behave. When they spotted me standing on Imin’s side of the fire they waved frantically. I hadn’t seen the twins since I’d been injured. They must’ve gotten back while we were in Saramotai.
When the whole camp was done, finally Imin and Navid turned to face each other to speak their vows.
‘I give myself to you.’ Imin carefully tipped her fire into the third bowl that the Holy Father held between them, the ashes of our gifts mingling with bright coal embers and sending up sparks as they spilled from one bowl to another. ‘All that I am I give to you, and all that I have is yours. My life is yours to share. Until the day we die.’
Navid repeated the same as he tilted the contents of his bowl in after hers until a single fire, larger and brighter than the ones they had held alone, burned between them. The Holy Father waved his tattooed hands over it in blessing.
There was a moment of silence as the sun disappeared entirely behind the canyon wall, casting the camp into a gloom broken only by the fire. And then Navid sprang to his feet, unabashedly picking Imin up, arms around her waist, before pulling her into a kiss. The whole of the camp cheered. The ceremony was over. It was time for the celebrations to begin.
‘Amani!’ I didn’t have a chance to turn around to see who’d called my name. A pair of bright blue arms grabbed me around the waist, spinning me around gleefully. I laughed, shoving Izz off as my feet found the ground again, staggering. Maz was wearing clothes, but Izz had already stripped down to nothing but his trousers. The twins had a real aversion to clothes. Their animal shapes didn’t need them and it seemed to confuse them that their human shapes did.
Izz gestured at the bare blue skin of his chest and my khalat. ‘We match.’ He beamed stupidly at me.
‘And luckily only one of us had to take off our shirt. I see you both survived Amonpour.’ The Albish had made an alliance with our western neighbours of Amonpour after losing Miraji to the Gallan twnety years ago. According to Shazad it had been nothing more than some men’s signatures on paper. Until the Albish suddenly got the news of the Gallan being turned out of the desert. And then suddenly they were using that piece of paper to convince Amonpour to let them camp on their borders, waiting for an opportune moment to try to claim Miraji as a prize again. They were getting a little too close to us for comfort so the twins had been sent to spy on the Albish troops camped along our western border. In case they got itchy feet and decided to march through our half of the desert. The last thing we needed was a fight on two fronts.
‘Elephants!’ Izz flung up his arms so excitedly I staggered back, nearly stumbling into the fire at the strange, foreign word. ‘Amonpour has elephants. Did you know about elephants?’
‘Were you holding out on us?’ Maz slung an arm around his brother’s bare shoulders, pointing at me accusingly. It was easy to forget one of them was blue and the other one just had blue hair when they were like this, moving and talking like one person. Maz’s dark-skinned arm almost seemed like an extension of his brother’s body.
Izz winked. ‘Fess up, Demdji.’
I rolled my eyes at them. ‘If I did I probably would have kept it from you anyway, judging by the slightly crazy look in your eyes.’
‘Do you want to see one?’ Maz was already kicking off his shoes.
‘We might need more space.’ Izz started to gesture around himself, as if trying to get people out of the way.
There was no way this could end well. ‘Is this going to be like the time you learned what a rhinoceros was all over again?’
The twins froze, swapping a sheepish expression. ‘I mean—’
‘Elephants are—’
‘Slightly bigger, so—’