Fourteen

Light filtered through the opening above and gave me just enough visibility to see in the darkness of the tomb. The air was cool and dry, the cave protected from the elements above by the stones covering it. It wasn't that deep of a drop. I likely could have jumped down myself, but the dupatta around my waist gave me a bit of security, despite not knowing what waited for me.

My feet pressed into soft sand, and I ran my eyes along the walls of the cave.

It wasn't a big space, and it was empty save for three large bags in the corner. I exhaled at the sight of them, and gold glinted in the scant sunlight from above.

Souma's treasure.

"Are you okay down there?"

"There's some bags down here—I think it's coins."

I moved over to inspect the bags—two of them filled with hefty piles of gold, glittering emeralds, and diamonds as big as my eyes.

The third with a substance I never thought I'd see in my life.

Zoraat.

Djinn magic .

The multicolored seeds glistened like pearlescent oil in the trickle of light from above, and I wanted to dig my hands into the bag and feel their power.

But I had no idea how zoraat worked—Noor was the expert in that. Did touching them imbue some of their power? Or did one have to eat them to use djinn magic?

I laid a hand on top of the seeds, their texture like the bottom of a tide pool filled with pebbles.

With these, I could do anything.

My father's face flashed in my mind, his smile a little crooked, the circles around his eyes dark, like he'd just stayed up all night at the forge.

With these I could avenge his death.

I dipped my hand into the bag, marveling at the fish egg texture. All this power. All this possibility.

A feeling of stillness rushed through me, and a slight breeze tickled my cheek.

I frowned, looking back up. There shouldn't be a breeze in here.

Revenge.

A deep whisper shot through the cavern and I jumped, snatching my hand back. Something moved out of the corner of my eye and I whirled around, drawing my dagger, my heart in my throat.

But there was no one else here.

I frowned at the empty chamber and walked the perimeter, the sandy bottom sinking beneath my feet. That voice had felt real—rough, ageless, and filled with venom. And I could have sworn I saw the edge of a cloak in the shadowed corner of the cave. But when I walked every inch, there was nothing waiting in the dark.

I went back to the three bags of treasure, retracing my steps, until I stopped short and snapped my gaze back to the ground where I had just been. There, illuminated by the light above, were two perfect footprints, much bigger than my own, pressed into the sand.

I exhaled and wrapped my arms around myself, the air feeling much colder than before. But I couldn't just stand around chasing imaginary ghosts. I shook my head and grabbed the edge of the dupatta, tying it around the first burlap sack. My skin still prickled from that voice, from those footprints, and I didn't want to remain in the cave a moment longer.

"Noor, I'm tying the bags to the dupatta—can you lift them up?" I called up to her, my eyes focused on the djinn seeds in front of me.

"Yes, I'll attach it to the mule." Her face peered over the cave opening and I felt a rush of relief at seeing her pointed little chin.

Noor hauled up the first bag of gold that I had looped the end of the dupatta around. Then we repeated the process with the other two bags until Noor helped heft me through the opening and into the waiting sunlight.

"It looks like Souma really did trust you."

"Yeah," she replied softly, her voice heavy. "I guess he did." She looked out at the mountains, lost in thought, her lips pressed so tightly together they'd turned white.

I walked over to the bag of zoraat, seeing the vibrancy of the different colors for the first time in the full light.

"So, how do they work?"

"You have to consume them in the right doses. When Emperor Vahid made his bargain with the djinn who gave him the first seeds, it was so he could have the power of the djinn at his fingertips. I spent years perfecting the right doses based on his usage. It can be… disastrous if you use the wrong amount."

Her eyes shuttered, and I didn't want to ask about what horrific djinn torture she witnessed as a result of an incorrect amount of zoraat consumption.

Especially because I knew I was about to consume them.

"Have you ever tried them yourself?"

Her head snapped up. "No. Absolutely not. It wasn't allowed."

"Then how do you know the right amounts?"

She swallowed thickly. "As an apprentice we trained in all types of blends for healers of the unseen. Because my blends were so effective, Souma graduated me to… more intense use of the magic."

"Such as?"

"Torture. Possession. Transfiguration. The same powers the djinn themselves might harbor."

I moved closer to the seeds, daring to let my fingers dip again toward their cool glossy exterior. As soon as my skin touched the smooth surface of the seeds, I felt a growing frisson of pressure. Those same soft whispers sounded from the boulders surrounding us, and I started.

"Do you hear that?"

The whispers grew louder, like the stones themselves were speaking to me, like the earth had been cleaved in two and begun talking.

And that one word rose again, above the rest, an incantation and warning all at once.

Revenge.

"Yes," I whispered back.

A face appeared before me, eyes black, face gaunt. I reared back, a cry wrenching from my throat. I knew that face, and had thought about seeing it again every day for a year.

But it was not as I remembered. Instead of his warm crooked smile, he was a festering body, a decomposing ghoul, come to snatch me away.

My father .

The warm grip of Noor's hands yanked me back to the present as she heaved me away from the seeds.

"Dani!"

I blinked twice, and then looked at her, my chest feeling as if it were going to explode. I couldn't wipe away the image of my father's ragged face staring back at me, an apparition come to haunt me. "What was that?"

Noor stared at me. "We aren't letting you touch these again. Not without the right dose from me."

"You said you had to consume them for it to work." I shook my head to clear it. "All I did was touch them." I thought about what had happened in the cave, but that felt too unbelievable to explain.

"What did you see?" Noor asked, cocking her head. "You looked… vacant for a moment. I've never seen it do that before, influence someone just by touching it."

"I saw…" I licked my dry lips, trying to make sense of exactly what had happened.

But I couldn't form the words to tell her about my father's rotting corpse.

A shudder rippled through me. "It doesn't really matter. Do you think it will happen again?"

"I have no idea, usually the healers of the unseen consume the blended zoraat before knitting together bones and the like. They transfigure the human body with the power they ingest." She watched me a moment more. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

I wasn't sure exactly which part she was asking me about—the revenge? Consuming zoraat and possessing myself with djinn magic? But I pushed that gaunt, wretched image of my father from my mind, and thought instead of my baba's rough hands working his smelt, his deep laugh as I told him a joke I'd heard from the palace guards, or the way he always hiccupped after taking a deep sip of chai. The heat of rage filled my chest once more, replacing the fear of his ghoulish face, replacing that unsettling voice whispering from all directions.

My father would still be here if it wasn't for the ones who had taken him from me.

"Yes. I'm sure. I want to do this."

Noor nodded. "Let's get to work, then."