Nahri glared at him. “Then let’s hurry.”
As they walked, the tunnel widened and grew steep, eventually shifting into a long set of crumbling steps. She braced herself against the wall, flinching when it turned damp beneath her hands. In front of her, she heard Ali take a deep breath of the humid air. As the stairs grew slippery with moisture, she would swear his steps looked surer.
Dara stopped. “It’s flooded ahead.”
The flames above their heads brightened. The steps ended in a pool of still black water that smelled as vile as it looked. She drew to a stop at the edge, watching the flickering lights reflect on the water’s oily surface.
“Afraid of a little water?” Ali pushed past Dara and strode confidently into the dark pool, stopping when it reached his waist. He turned back. His ebony robe melted so easily into the black water that it looked like the liquid itself was draped over his shoulders. “Worried the marid will get you?”
“At home in there, aren’t you, little crocodile?” Dara mocked. “Does it remind you of Ta Ntry’s fetid swamps?”
Ali shrugged. “Sand fly, dog, crocodile . . . Are you just working your way through the animals you can name? How many can be left? Five? Six?”
Dara’s eyes flashed, and then he did something Nahri had never seen him do.
He stepped into the water.
Dara raised his hands, and the water fled, rushing over rocks and dashing through crevices. The drops that didn’t make it sizzled underfoot as he passed through.
Nahri’s mouth fell open. His ring was glowing, a bright green light, like the sun shining upon a wet leaf. She thought back to what he’d done to the shedu, to Ali’s zulfiqar, to the iron bindings.
And suddenly she wondered just how many secrets Dara was holding back from her. Their kiss in the cave seemed very long ago.
The Afshin shoved a visibly shocked Ali forward. “Keep walking, djinn, and watch your mouth. It would greatly upset the Banu Nahida if I cut out your tongue.”
Nahri quickly caught up to Ali.
“So his very presence boils water now?” Ali whispered, giving Dara’s back a nervous look. “What manner of horrors is that?”
I have no idea. “Maybe it’s just part of being a slave,” she said weakly.
“I’ve known freed slaves. They don’t have that kind of power. He probably went the way of the ifrit and gave himself over to demons long ago.” He grimaced and looked down at her, lowering his voice even further. “Please, in the name of the Most High, tell me you don’t truly intend to go off with him.”
“You do remember the zulfiqar at your throat?”
“I will throw myself in the lake before I let that monster use my life to steal yours.” He shook his head. “I should have just given you that book in the garden. I should have told you about the cities he destroyed, the innocents he murdered . . . you’d have stuck a knife in his back yourself.”
Nahri recoiled. “I would never.” She knew Dara had a bloody past, but surely Ali exaggerated. “It was a war—a war your people started. Dara was only defending our tribe.”
“Is that what he told you?” Ali drew in his breath. “Defending . . . Nahri, do you know why people call him the Scourge?”
Something very cold crept down her spine, but she pushed it away. “I don’t. But might I remind you that you were the one who came to me the other night covered in another man’s blood,” she pointed out. “Dara’s hardly the only one keeping secrets.”
Ali abruptly stopped. “You’re right.” He turned to her, his expression resolved. “It was the blood of a shafit assassin. I killed him. He was a member of a political group called the Tanzeem. They advocate—sometimes violently—for the rights of the shafit and are considered criminals and traitors. I was their primary benefactor. My father found out and ordered me to befriend you and convince you to marry my brother as penance.” He raised his dark eyebrows, blood crusted at his hairline. “There. Now you know.”
Nahri blinked, taking it all in. She had known Ali had his own agenda, the same as she did—but it stung to hear it laid out so plainly. “The interest in my country, in improving your Arabic . . . I take it that was all pretense?”
“No, it wasn’t. I swear. However our friendship started, however I felt about your family . . .” Ali looked embarrassed. “It’s been a dark few months. My time with you . . . it was a light.”
Nahri looked away; she had to, she could not bear the sincerity in his face. She caught sight of his bloody wrists still bound in iron. He survives this, she swore to herself. No matter what.
Even if it meant running off with Dara.
They kept walking, Ali throwing the occasional hostile glance at Dara’s back. “Perhaps now it’s your turn.”
“What do you mean?”
“Rather adept at picking locks and negotiating contracts for a maidservant, aren’t you?”
She kicked at the ground, sending a few pebbles flying. “I’m not sure you’d still think of me as a light if I told you about my background.”
“Nahri,” Dara called out, interrupting their quiet conversation.
The cavern had ended. They joined Dara at a rocky ledge overlooking a low drop to a narrow sandy beach that surrounded a still lagoon. In the distance, she could see stars through a slice of sky. The lagoon was strangely luminous, the water a coppery blue that shimmered as if under a tropical sun.
Dara helped her onto the beach and handed her his knife as he dragged Ali down to join them. “I’ll need your blood,” he said, sounding apologetic. “Just a bit on the blade.”
Nahri ran the knife over her palm, getting only a few drops before her skin stitched together. Dara took the knife back and whispered a prayer under his breath. The crimson blood burst into flames as it dripped off the blade.
The lagoon began to churn, a great sucking sound coming from its pit as the water rushed away, and something metallic rose in its center. As Nahri watched, an elegant copper boat burst from the pool’s surface, beads of water skittering off its glimmering hull. It was fairly small, probably built to hold no more than a dozen passengers. There was no sail to be seen, but it looked fast, its stern tapering to a sharp point.
Nahri stepped forward, transfixed by the beautiful boat. “Has this been here all this time?”
Dara nodded. “Since before the city fell. The Qahtani siege was so brutal that no one had a chance to escape.” He shoved Ali into the shallows. “Climb aboard, sand fly.”
Nahri went to follow, but Dara caught her wrist. “I’ll let him go,” he said quietly in Divasti. “I promise. There are supplies waiting for us on the other side of the lake, a carpet, provisions, weapons. I’ll leave him on the beach unharmed, and we’ll fly away.”
His words only worsened her feeling of betrayal. “I’m glad to know we’ll be well-provisioned when the ifrit murder us.”
She tried to pull away, but Dara held her tight. “The ifrit aren’t going to murder us, Nahri,” he assured her. “Things are different now. You’ll be safe.”