It’s also one night before the moon dies and my time runs out.
“Trust me,” I say dryly, “it’s hardly that. Did you think you’d walk into the palace, ask for her hand, and marry her within the week?”
“I don’t know.” He picks up one of the stone gryphons and tosses it from hand to hand. “I didn’t really think at all, I guess. And don’t forget, this was all your idea.” He looks down at me, his eyes troubled. “It’s killing me, Zahra. Seeing the vizier every day, passing him in the hall, pretending to bow and grovel. I hate it.”
I glance over at Jalil, who is lost in his work, then back at Aladdin. “Come on.”
“What?”
“Let’s get out of here. There’s too much dust. Too much . . . history.” I take the scroll of jinn lore from his hand and set it on a shelf. “I want to sit in the sun and feel the sea breeze on my face.”
“All right,” he says, a bit amused. “And you can tell me more about the jinn.”
? ? ?
We climb the tallest tower in the palace and find ourselves at last standing upon the rooftop, beneath a striped canvas awning, looking down on the city. From this height, it looks flawless, like a city in a story, stained with the golden light of midmorning. White rooftops bake in the sun, colorful awnings stretching between them, the crowns of the palms and other trees casting spiky patches of shade on the streets. And beyond the south wall, the cliffs overlook the turquoise sea. Not a cloud is to be seen, and the sun blazes like the eye of a beneficent god. Seabirds ride the warm air, drifting in the sky and turning lazy circles around the glittering minarets of the palace.
“Look at it,” breathes Aladdin, leaning over the parapet. His elbows brush the leaves of a potted lemon tree, its branches budding with tiny fruits. “Not a bad view. I could get used to this.”
“So. Becoming a prince isn’t entirely about revenge, is it?”
He grins at me. “There are definitely other attractions.”
“Can you really see this through? Marrying the princess, banishing or imprisoning the vizier, and then ruling this city? Guiding its people? Watching your children navigate the treacherous waters of court?”
With a shrug, he lifts his face to the sun, shutting his eyes and basking in its heat. “With a view like this? I could get used to anything. Of course, it all depends on winning the princess. She might hate me.”
“She might.”
He rolls his eyes. “Not helping, Smoky.”
“My name isn’t . . .” But I sigh and let it go. The nickname doesn’t rankle me like it did a few weeks ago. I’m growing too used to it. Too used to him.
He lowers his face. “Is it true all jinn were once human?”
Caught off guard, I look up at him sharply. “Why do you want to know about that?”
“The scroll I was reading talked about it. I wondered if it was true.” He turns around, leaning against the parapet, his arms folded.
I sigh and sit on the warm stone floor, my back against the potted lemon tree. I pull a fruit that dangles at my elbow and turn it over in my hands.
“Not all of them. The oldest ones were born jinn, but most of us were . . . adopted. Long ago, there were only two realms: that of the gods—the godlands, as you call them—and that of the jinn: Ambadya. The jinn were the gods’ first creation, and they made them powerful and proud and magnificent.”
A yellow butterfly lands on my knee, and I pause a moment, watching it as it rubs its legs over its face before flitting off again.
“And?” Aladdin prods.
“For many ages the jinn lived in peace. There were the maarids, of the water, small, lovely, petty things. There were the ifreets, creatures of fire, who were few in number but great in power. There were the ghuls, creatures of earth, who even in those days were the most despised of the jinn. They lived in caves and holes, like rats, but were mostly harmless as they could never work together. There were the sila, jinn of the air, rarely seen by the others because they spent most of their lives drifting in the sky, invisible and secretive. And most powerful of all, there were the shaitan, masters of all elements, lords of all the jinn. In those days, Ambadya was much like your world: rich with color and life, beautiful and vast and wild.”
Aladdin sits beside me, his shoulder against mine. “Everything I’ve heard describes the jinn world as dark and wretched.”
“It is now. They ruined their world when they began warring with each other. They burned it, twisted it into a ruin. That is why the gods created men. They wanted to start over. And it is why the jinn and the humans have never got along since. The jinn were jealous, their place of privilege usurped. Many times they have tried to take over this world, and every time, the gods interceded.”