Abruptly, he stops dancing and steps away. He stares at me with eyes as deep as the night.
“No,” he replies softly. “I’m not sure they do.”
I stand still, bewildered, as he turns and melts into the crowd.
Chapter Sixteen
EXHAUSTED FROM DANCING, the people move into a grand courtyard beneath a starry sky and colorful lanterns swaying in a gentle breeze. They burn in the night like candle flames, bright and brilliant. I follow, only paying half attention to everyone around me, as I push my sixth sense far and wide and deep, probing for Zhian. I even send out tentative whispers in the silent jinn tongue: Are you there? Brothers and sisters, is anyone there? No reply comes trickling back.
Aladdin is at Caspida’s side. They move in the midst of young lords and maidens, all laughing and flirting. The princess and my master are reticent, not looking at each other. Aladdin glances around, and then his eyes catch mine and hold. I stand apart from everyone else and, meeting his eye, nod pointedly at the princess. He stares a moment longer before turning back to Caspida and making a comment that draws a polite smile.
I find a quiet corner tucked in the tall hedges surrounding the courtyard and sit on the base of a tall statue hidden there. It is a marble sculpture of a gryphon with a face seemingly based on King Malek’s, though this face is stronger and fuller, like the man Malek might have been had he not wasted himself over simmon.
Tipping my head back, the moon and I regard one another silently, like enemies facing off across a field of battle. It is the same moon that met me the night Aladdin brought me out of the vault beneath the desert: barely there at all, merely a sly wink in the deep dark sky.
Two days until it disappears completely.
I let my mind turn to the possibility of failure, something I haven’t even dared consider until now. Shaza had warned that if I didn’t release Zhian in the allotted month, Nardukha would rain death on me and Parthenia. It isn’t hard to imagine what that means.
I still have Nessa’s book in my pocket, and I pull it out and lay it on my lap, open to the first page, where an ink drawing depicts a sorrowful maiden looking down on a city being swallowed by waves.
I’ve seen him destroy cities with fire, with water, with the shaking of the earth. He destroyed Neruby with sand and wind. He destroyed Ghedda, the city in the drawing, by causing the mountain it was built on to erupt. He might have already destroyed Parthenia, if it wouldn’t risk Zhian’s life. It’s a wonder the Shaitan has kept his notorious temper in check even this long. If I fail, he’ll likely let Parthenia and all its people sink into the sea, then send his maarids to search the ruins for Zhian’s bottle.
And Aladdin will die.
That thought hits me hardest. Lifting my eyes, I watch him laughing with the young lords, their faces turned to him like flowers to the sun. I have felt that same draw, that mysterious pull he has on me. I’ve been feeling it for weeks now, and it’s getting harder and harder to resist. I think of him in the garden, lying on the grass, his hand brushing mine, and shudder at the pleasure this memory brings.
I slam the book shut and set it beside me. Enough sitting around, waiting for Zhian to show himself. Looking around, I spot Prince Darian lurking nearby, swirling a bottle of wine and watching Aladdin and Caspida stroll.
A plan unfurls in my mind, and I rise and walk to him.
“All alone on Fahradan? That’s a shame.”
He starts, spilling wine on his coat. He brushes at it with a look of annoyance. “Is that how you address your master? If I had a servant half so impertinent, I’d have her whipped and then cast out of the city for the ghuls to enjoy.”
“You’re drunk.”
He shrugs as if that’s to be taken for granted. “I’ve been thinking of ways to teach your master his place in my court.”
“Your court? Forgive me, Majesty. I wasn’t aware I was in the presence of a king.” I eye Darian calculatingly as he glares at me, then gesture at a nearby bench in invitation. He sits beside me, a bit too close, his breath reeking of wine.
“Why is he really here?” asks Darian.
Grabbing his bottle, I take a deep swallow of wine before answering. “To gain the pleasure of your scintillating company.”
With a curse, the prince suddenly grabs my wrist, his eyes fevered. “Tell me the truth, girl, or I’ll have you both thrown out of this city.”
Pulling my hand away with a scowl, I reply sharply, “You have no power over us. We are guests of the king.”
“The king is an idiot and an invalid. Everyone knows my father is the real ruler of Parthenia.”
I bite back a reply, forcing myself to focus on the real goal here, not petty sniping. Taking a moment to alter the course of my tongue, I smile coyly and reply in warmer tones, “Yes, the great Vizier Sulifer, commander of the Parthenian military. He is a great warrior, from what I hear.”