Forty-eight

We left the palace behind, the city disappearing in a cloud of dust. Every djinn-soaked drop of blood in my body rebelled against it—I was leaving the emperor and my revenge behind.

Despite that, my heart felt free.

We rode through the valley and to my village on Mazin's stallion, and I tried not to think about how good it felt to have his arms around me again.

I hadn't quite shaken the need for revenge, the guilt that my father died and I wouldn't be avenging that death. But Noor was right. Baba wouldn't want me to destroy myself for it.

Even though I might have destroyed myself already.

The insides of my hands were filled with black curling vines that ran up my forearms. The djinn had marked me, and I couldn't outrun my own skin.

I had made a bargain, but I wouldn't be fulfilling my end of it.

And when the djinn came for me, I would need to be ready.

The sky swirled with a dark storm that seemed anything but natural. Lightning cracked overhead, and the darkness opened up to pour down its wrath.

"I don't think we can go very much further!" Maz shouted in my ear over the pounding hooves and screaming rain. "Rakhna can't take much more of this, not with the lightning!"

He turned off the well-worn dirt road and raced toward a large apricot orchard surrounded by an outcropping of houses and a white-walled caravanserai.

We arrived at the caravanserai soaked to the bone.

Sheets of rain pounded the little village, despite its sheltered position in the valley. The apricot trees swayed under the power of the wind, unripened fruit flying from their branches. A herd of goats was being corralled into a nearby shelter, and villagers were running for cover all around us. No one was traveling in this storm, not even the emperor.

An old woman met us at the door of the caravanserai holding two cups of hot chai. I downed the liquid immediately, relishing the scalding tea pouring down my throat.

Maz had left to put Rakhna in the stable, and I waited for him in the entranceway.

"The djinn are angry."

I whirled around. "What?"

The woman gestured to the blackened sky overhead. "The djinn. Only they could produce a storm like this. But I wonder why they are so furious."

Thunder crackled above us, as if proving her point. The woman was wrapped in a red dupatta with frayed edges and curling jasmine flower embroidery, and her eyes were a warm, rich brown in her weathered face. I had stopped at this village a few times with my father on our way to Basral, but we'd never come to this caravanserai before.

"Maybe someone has offended them," I said, hiding my stained hands in the folds of my wet kurta.

Maybe someone has gone back on a bargain.

But this storm didn't seem like the djinn who had bargained with me. When I met him, he seemed emotionless, confident. This was the storm of bitter anger.

It raged down on the tiny valley village until rivulets of water ran through the streets and along the edges of the caravanserai. They had protection against flooding—heavy rains would devastate valley towns such as these. But if the rain continued as it was there would be problems.

"Do you need a room?"

"Pardon?" My head shot up, meeting her kind eyes.

"You and your companion. There's only one room left. And with the way things are going you might want to take it because we are going to be inundated with travelers heading to Basral."

I stared at her. We thought we would wait out the storm here, but a chance to get dry and change my clothes from the sopping mess I was in would be welcome.

"Yes. We'll take it," I said, not letting myself dwell on what that meant.

"Of course. I'll have Attaf bring up some of the mutton nihari we have on the fire. It's good and will warm you."

"Do you have another kurta?" I asked, clinging to my sodden clothes. "Or anything to get dry in?"

"He'll bring some things up for you and your friend." The woman leaned in close to me. "I'll also send some pakaal tea as well," she said, her voice low. "In case you need it." I felt my face turn red hot at the mention of the herbal tea used to prevent pregnancy, but she swept away before I could respond.

The woman looked up as Maz stepped through the door, rainwater dripping from his shoulders. He wore his sherwani again when we ran from the palace, and the woman's mahogany eyes went wide as she took him in.

"Sahib." She bowed her head. "Forgive me, I didn't realize the emperor's man was here, I would have had a servant take your horse."

"It isn't an issue," Mazin said smoothly.

I was struck by how much older he seemed since I came back. I was only gone a year, and yet his shoulders filled the entranceway with a presence he didn't possess before I was arrested. Or maybe I just never noticed it before.

"I got us a room," I said hastily.

Mazin blinked.

"To warm up," I said, my cheeks heating. "And to get out of these clothes." I gestured to my wet kurta.

Mazin looked down at me, then his eyes shot up just as fast.

"I mean, to change into dry ones."

My face was so hot I wanted to throw myself into the raging storm and never come out again.

"Of course," he responded, clearing his throat.

The woman behind us smothered a laugh. If possible, I grew even more embarrassed because I'd forgotten she was still there. I didn't even want to bring up the contraceptive tea she'd offered.

"Your room is upstairs, to the left, sahib." She handed Mazin the key. "Your food and extra clothes will be along shortly." She nodded to us, then shuffled to the kitchen.

We proceeded up the stairs in silence, walking past the travelers in the dining room watching the storm through the windows with awe on their faces.

Dark clouds were raging above Basral, swirling in a frenzy of violence. We were safe inside for now, but how long until the emperor came after us? How long until the djinn dogged my steps?

I continued up the stairs, stepping into the vacant room slowly, my stomach dropping with a lurch when Mazin closed the door behind us. The fire was lit, and I moved closer to it, rubbing at my freezing skin to bring feeling back into it. I turned around and stopped at the sight of the bed sitting in the middle of the room.

The silence stretched out between us, thick with anticipation.

A knock sounded at the door, which startled us both. A small man, presumably Attaf, bore a very large tray of food in one hand, and dry clothes and towels in the other.

"Simple clothes, sahib, but they are dry and warm." Attaf hustled in, placing the tray on the small table by the fire and the clothes on the end of the bed. "And Badeea makes the best nihari outside of Basral. You won't be cold after this."

"Thank you," Mazin said, closing the door behind him.

Then Maz turned to me. "I can go, give you the room. I'm happy downstairs anyway, I can monitor the storm and be ready when it's time to leave."

"Maz, we've shared a room before," I scoffed. "In fact, we've shared much more than that." I raised a brow, there was no point in skirting around the obvious now. "And you are soaked. At least get changed and eat something. No one is traveling and it looks like the storm is going to go all night. And you certainly can't sit out there all night ."

He let out a heavy breath and still seemed uncertain.

"What's wrong, you think I'm going to kill you in your sleep?"

Maz looked up, a wry smile in the corner of his mouth. "The thought had crossed my mind."

"By all means, go sit in the dining hall if you're scared."

That dimple came out again, and I caught my breath.

"I never said I was scared of you, Dani. Maybe I want you to try to kill me."

"I can't tell if you're flirting by asking me to kill you or not."

The smile faded from his lips. He walked toward the fire, his back to me, his sherwani already beginning to dry in the warmth of the room. I wasn't cold anymore, not nearly as much as I had been, but my cotton kurta was still soaking wet against my skin.

"When you were arrested," he said suddenly, "when I persuaded Vahid to throw you in prison, I thought it was the safest place for you while I tried to figure something out. I knew you wanted me to fight—but I couldn't leave her. I told my mother I'd protect Anam. I swore to her I would." His voice broke, and he raked a hand through his hair.

"I understand," I said, coming up behind him. "More than you know." I thought of Noor, whom I'd only known a short time, but whom I had forged such a strong bond with that it was unimaginable to abandon her. And Anam and Maz only had each other. I understood, but it hurt more than I wanted it to.

"I still hoped you would fight with me. That you would fight for me. And I was devastated when you didn't. Why didn't you tell me about your plans to overthrow Vahid?"

He turned to me, his eyes stark. "Dani, I've seen Vahid torture people with zoraat to obtain information from them. I didn't want to put you in that position. I thought that if I could mobilize against Vahid with the north, then we'd have a chance at real change. But then the warlord died, they arrested you and killed your father—all my plans crumbled. And the only thing I could think about was surviving, keeping Anam safe and breaking you out. But the prison warden made freeing you nearly impossible. I tried everything, every method of bribery, every possible way I could. I even laid the groundwork for your escape until…"

I was scared to ask anything, scared to speak, because as much as I wanted to hear this story, it felt like pouring salt on a fresh knife wound. I wanted to know, and yet I didn't. I wanted to bury my vengeance and anger and yet it was still part of me, tattooed on my hands for all to see.

But I needed to hear what he had to say.

For me, for us. I needed to see if I could close this hole in my heart, to see if it was done between us.

Or if he was still mine and I was still his.

"Dani, I love you."

"Until?" I prompted.

"Until you showed up, looking like someone else, asking after your father's knives. But the way you spoke, your gestures, even the way you bit your bottom lip—it was you . It seemed impossible. For all I knew you were still in prison, still locked away while I was going out of my mind. When I spoke to Sanaya and felt…" He trailed away, looking at the flames. They danced off the planes of his face, his cheekbones high and proud, eyes fathomless depths. A scar curled over one eyebrow that I didn't recognize, and it made me remember that he'd lived a life while I'd been in prison. He'd been given scars I didn't know about either.

He raked his hands through his hair again. "I thought I was going mad," he whispered. "Every time we spoke, it felt like I'd finally snapped. I was imagining you in someone else… I thought it was my mind trying to cope with what I'd done. We even got word of a sighting of you in your village, and I sent soldiers to investigate. I wrote to the prison, demanding to see you, but the warden wouldn't agree. She said nothing of your escape. I know now she likely didn't want the emperor to know that two very important prisoners had broken out of her supposedly impenetrable jail." He lifted his head, moving closer to me, and my heart hammered in my chest.

"But then I touched your hands. And I knew . I felt the scars I'd given you, felt the memories we'd lived together." He took another step, until he was inches away and the heat from his body was like the fire itself. My fingers flexed, wanting to reach for him, but I kept them pressed to my side. After everything, could I fall into this again?

Or maybe I'd already fallen, I just didn't want to climb back out.

"Maz…"

"Did you think I wouldn't know you? I'd know you with any face. Any skin. Any hair. A thousand djinn could disguise you from me and I'd still be able to find you just by the sound of your breath."

I exhaled, the space between us so small he could likely feel it on his cheek.

"Tell me you can never forgive me, and I'll go. Tell me you hate me and I won't bother you again."

My body swayed toward his, my skin knowing my answer before I could say it out loud.

"Because unless you tell me that, my foolish heart hopes and dreams and imagines. I can't make right what I did, I can't change it. But I can beg. I can promise that in all things, in all ways, I belong to you. And I will never let you feel as though I didn't fight for you again."

His voice was the crackling flames, the beat of my heart, the breath in my lungs. It drowned out the dark magic in my blood, the whispers of the djinn, and the doubting thoughts in my head.

"No," I said, my words clear and sure. "I can't tell you those things. I can't because they wouldn't be true. And we promised we'd be true to each other, didn't we?"

He closed his eyes, his hands uncurling at his sides. I reached up and cupped his cheek, and whatever barrier there was between us shattered at my touch. And then he was holding me, pressing me to him, mouth on my lips, at my throat, fingers in my hair. I kissed him back—it was impossible for me not to, I felt like I would die if I didn't.

I peeled back the coat from his shoulders, and my own wet kurta joined his on the ground. We tumbled onto the bed, his lips on my skin, hands at my waist, my thighs. We were in a frenzy together, the storm outside matching the one between us, except instead of rage and wrath it was every memory we'd shared, every slight touch and heated glance. It was a lifetime of passion and rivalry and pain and hope.

And it was us—every messy, apprehensive, fervent part of us, together as we'd always been. It was my scarred hands in his, his tongue against my pulse, my legs around his waist. It was who we were, and who we became, and I knew that he was right.

He would always know me, would always see me.

Just as I would always see him.

"The storm is lessening."

I watched the window as Maz traced lazy circles around my hip with his fingers.

"We should go soon, then." His voice was soft, and I knew he wanted to stay as much as I did. But we both had people counting on us, and we couldn't let them down. "Vahid will be coming."

The mention of his name doused the cozy warmth of our caravanserai room and brought me back to reality.

Unfortunately, it also prickled the magic underneath my skin, like the djinn power in my veins knew exactly what Vahid's name meant.

We dressed hurriedly in the warm clothes given to us by Attaf, and Maz ran to get his horse saddled.

I joined him at the front of the caravanserai and he put his hands around my waist to lift me onto his stallion.

But he paused.

I looked down at him, his stillness making me wary.

"What is it?"

"Nothing." He shook his head. "Whatever happens next, whatever the emperor rains down on us, I wanted to remember this moment, just as you are right now."

He swung up behind me on the saddle, his arms strong and sure as he led us back through the valley to my small mountain village. Hope was a bird rising in my chest and it felt as if we could overcome anything, as long as we were together.

I just wished I knew what was coming.

Once we reached the edge of my village, Maz urged the horse faster, until we came to the little house my nanu was staying in. Noor should have been here by now, but I saw no sign of her, nor her horse.

Dread washed over me. The village was too still, too quiet. It had felt the same when we'd found out about my father.

I dismounted and ran into Nanu's house.

It was empty, the ashes in the hearth cold, a cup of chai untouched on the mango wood table.

"Where are they?" I whispered, my voice cracking.

Maz stood behind me, his steady presence a balm to my rising panic. Did I ever think that Mazin standing beside me would be a relief again? But now it felt as though I could breathe again. I leaned back against him and felt his surprise at my unexpected touch before his hands came up and he clasped my arms.

"We'll find them," he murmured against my hair.

"Noor and Nanu are the only other people I have left."

"We'll find them," he repeated, sweeping his eyes around the small cottage. "But they aren't here."

We left the house, the early rays of dawn filtering through the empty streets. A sound echoed across the square, the smashing of glass, and a muffled groan.

Mazin and I both reached for our swords at the same time.

I knew the direction it came from.

"The smith." I looked at Mazin.

My father's house.

The last time I'd been there I had learned of his death. I'd cursed the man now beside me and promised I would find retribution.

But all I wanted now was to find the people I cared about and get them out of this alive.

We jogged to my old home, falling in step beside each other, like an old dance we both knew the steps to.

I knew Maz, knew his moves, his breath. I felt the burden on my shoulders ease now that we were on the same side again. We stopped on the edge of the village, watching the smith and the little house connected to it from a distance.

I cast a glance at Maz as he crouched beside a stone wall, his scimitar in hand, dark eyes focused on the smith. He flicked his gaze in my direction and stilled, the shadows playing off the angles of his face.

That feeling of anticipation rushed to my stomach when he turned those intense eyes on me, something that didn't feel like relief or calm or comfort, but altogether like dropping into a dark sea. Something I never thought he'd make me feel again.

"What is it?" His voice was lower, rougher than before, and I wondered if working together again had made him realize those same feelings.

"It feels good," I said, my abrupt way of blurting out uncomfort able truths catching us both off guard again. "Having you beside me again."

His eyes darkened, and he drew closer, close enough so that I could hear his low words.

"I'm sorry I ever made you think I wasn't."

I exhaled, the quiet ferocity in his voice shaking me.

We crept closer to the small stone building surrounding the smith, but no other sounds came from it. I finally pushed through the door, my sword in hand ready to take on whatever I would find there.

But every room was empty, the same as it was before.

All my father's possessions gone, the house still looted.

Until I got to the final bedroom—my parents' room.

There a figure sat on the bed, alone, closed in on itself, almost resigned.

"Nanu?"

She started and looked up at me, her light eyes a little brighter than usual, her crinkled, dark skin the color of burned embers. But something seemed… off.

"Dania." Her voice was plaintive, not a question exactly, but an acknowledgment. As if she had been waiting for me.

I rushed forward, wrapping her small body in my arms. She was cold and didn't return my embrace.

"Nanu, are you all right? We thought something had happened to you—the house you were staying in—"

"I'm fine. Really," she said in a disconnected sort of way. As if she were talking to me from a long distance.

I frowned, my eyes sweeping over her. "What are you doing here alone, Nanu? Where is Noor? She was meant to find you."

Had Noor even made it to the village?

At the mention of Noor's name, my grandmother's pale fire eyes flashed. "Dania, your friend could not be trusted." Her words were a hiss, an unfamiliar savage tone, and I stepped back from her, unease filling my stomach.

"What do you mean?" My eyes swept the room, as if Noor was hiding somewhere.

"Noor came here, yes. But she betrayed you, my granddaughter."

Something wasn't right, and I shook my head in confusion.

I had been betrayed before, but the certainty that sat in my heart was unlike anything else—Noor wouldn't do that.

"Nanu, what are you talking about?"

A muffled cry sounded from somewhere nearby, and I realized Maz hadn't joined us in the room. I took a step toward the door, but Nanu's hand shot out, gripping my wrist so tightly I let out a gasp of surprise. Her strength took me off guard, and I jerked my hand away, but she didn't release it.

"Don't go," she said, her voice raspy.

My eyes scanned the room, trying to pin down the uneasiness flooding through me. "Nanu, let go."

"Your friend has abandoned you," she repeated in that detached voice. "Left you for Vahid."

Something glinted from the corner of the room, something dark and smooth. My eyes focused on it, and I saw them then, like small oval pearls I couldn't ever seem to escape.

Djinn seeds.

A small bag of zoraat rested on the nightstand. The same bag I had given to Noor before she left. My breath caught in my throat, and I whirled on my grandmother.

"Nanu, where did you get those from?"

Her gaze flicked behind her, and I wrenched my arm free. Everything in me said to draw my sword.

But could I? Could I pull a weapon against my own grandmother? Something splintered in my chest as I laid my free hand on my dagger.

But I couldn't shake this feeling, this churning in my gut that something wasn't right.

My gaze returned to the seeds. Why was the zoraat here?

And if it was here, it was entirely possible that the woman standing before me was not my grandmother.

"You aren't my nanu, are you?"

She gave me a curious stare, as if she were confused by my question. I swept her body for anything else that could identify her—that one piece of physical evidence that a person needed to keep before they could transfigure themselves.

But nothing. She was exactly the same, her eyes, her weathered hands, each silvery wisp of her hair. Even her smell was the same—a woody, mountain scent with hints of crocus flower. Her skin was papery, her eyes bright—she was still my grandmother.

"Why would I have to pretend to be someone else? That didn't get you your vengeance, did it, girl?" Her voice wasn't cruel, but factual, as if she were merely curious.

I opened my mouth but the words dried on my tongue. Confusion warred with fear and the depths of something else thrumming through me.

Revenge. Revenge. Revenge, it whispered.

But the words were not for me this time.

"I saw your Mazin riding into town with you," Nanu continued. "Wasn't he the one who sent you to prison in the first place?"

I wrinkled my forehead, frustrated at the abrupt change of subject. "What happened to Noor?" I repeated.

And where is Mazin? I cast a glance to the hallway hoping to see him. I still had the djinn's power leaping at my fingertips, but the less I could use it the better. And I certainly didn't want to use it against Nanu. I eyed the seeds on the bedside table again.

If my grandmother had consumed any, there was no telling what she could do.

But what would she need djinn power for?

"Noor is weak," she snapped. "I'm surprised at you for surrounding yourself with people like her. Like Mazin. People who stand next to you just to absorb your strength. You are a warrior, like your mother. You don't need to surround yourself with weaklings as your mother did with your father."

My breath collapsed at her words, at their meaning. My skin felt white hot as something rose up inside me. Something bigger than djinn power, something that changed my entire worldview.

I knew that my grandmother and my father hadn't really gotten along, but I didn't realize the extent of her dislike. I stepped back, bumping into the door behind me. Nanu had never spoken this way about my mother and father, ever.

A fleeting memory tickled at the back of my mind, from before my mother was killed. A memory of my nanu as an entirely different woman. Not this silent, tightly coiled person. And then, the night my mother was killed, I remembered that. The way she howled and tore at her hair. The way she screamed and pushed me away.

How my father tried to calm her, even though he too had just lost his wife. But she didn't want to speak to anyone, instead moving out of the house and living alone in the village. Since my mother's death, Nanu became distant like some part of her died as well.

But the way her eyes glittered, it was as if something in her was now alive.

Like there was a viper under her skin.

Cold tendrils of fear ran down my spine as she advanced on me, her pale eyes huge and round.

"Baba wasn't weak," I said slowly, trying to understand what was happening. "He was the strongest person I know."

"You didn't know your mother well enough, then. She could have ruled over the northern tribes. Instead, she chose your father and came here." She spat on the floor. "And got herself killed."

"Mama was killed by a northern tribesman, Nanu. It wasn't Baba's fault."

"He let her go there, unprotected. He angered the warlord that killed her, refusing to fashion him a sword. Her death was on his hands as much as the man that slit her throat."

My mind whirled, the realization hitting me that Nanu had felt this way my whole life. And I'd never seen it until today. And now I saw everything.

It was as if the sky were caving in and I had no room to breathe anymore. My chest was tight, about to combust from the pressure, my eyes burning, though no tears came.

"The warlord," I said, the words barely leaving my mouth. "The northern warlord I was charged with killing. That was you, wasn't it?"

The confirmation was written all over her face. Her mouth flattened, nose flared. She looked guilty, but also… proud?

The northern chief had been murdered, and all this time I had thought it was Vahid trying to quell a rebellion.

But it was my grandmother, getting her revenge, and condemning me to this forsaken path.

I stumbled back, my mouth like dust, my djinn-tattooed hands shaking. My own grandmother had been the reason I was imprisoned.

"He was the chief who killed your mother," she confirmed, her hands reaching out for me. "I knew he was coming to Basral, the first time in years since he killed my girl. I'd never felt such need for retribution. He stole my life from me. And when I thought I would explode with the injustice of it all, a djinn came to me. I bargained for a small amount of power—just enough to do what needed to be done—and I destroyed the man who killed my daughter." Her eyes shone brightly, sweat coating her upper lip as if she were ill, her skin gray and waxy.

I couldn't move, couldn't speak. I stared at my grandmother, realizing I never really knew her. She had made a bargain with a djinn, she had traded for the power to seek vengeance.

We were more alike than I thought.

"I watched him writhe as his insides burned up," she whispered, her voice as soft as a caress. "As his skin bubbled and his blood boiled inside him. It wasn't enough. It wasn't enough pain for what he stole. But still, I knew satisfaction. I knew strength. More than I had in years."

She looked at me, those pale green eyes—my mother's eyes—boring into me, eating at me with her revenge.

The warlord deserved to die. I did not blame her for her vengeance. I would have done the same, I thought bitterly.

I had done the same.

"I knew you were headed to that room," she continued, and my lungs froze. "I had heard your plans." She closed her eyes. "There was one more person who deserved punishment for your mother. And I knew if you were arrested, he would try to help you."

A sharp pain splintered inside me, but she kept speaking, oblivious to the agony she was causing.

"I encouraged your father to try to save you. It wasn't difficult. He charged to the palace, scimitar in the air, and did for you what he never did for my daughter." Her voice was low and rough, the hatred pouring out like bitter tea.

"He loved you more than he ever loved her. That's why he didn't go with her to the north. That's why she's dead. She deserved better than him. She deserved better than both of you." Our eyes met, and I was taken aback by the darkness in hers.

"Nanu. You killed Baba." I rolled the words on my tongue like poison, my mouth numb. I still didn't want to believe it. "You had me arrested. I was beaten, tortured. Imprisoned for a year ."

"But you survived." Nanu clasped her hands together, her eyes taking on a bolder gleam. She approached me steadily and I wondered if she had consumed the zoraat.

"I thought you would be executed. I counted on it. Then I would have fulfilled my bargain—I needed to give something up. You, for the warlord. You, for your father. But you lived." She watched me with a terrifying intensity.

"Because you are strong, " she continued. "You are like me and your mother. You were forged in the fires of hatred too, made new by your revenge. I watched you when you came back, you were someone who could light this world on fire, who could make it yours. I was going to kill you then, but in the end, I couldn't. Not when you reminded me so much of her. You could destroy Vahid, crush anyone who stood in your way. You had vengeance filling your soul, just like me ."

She reached a weathered hand out to me, as if I were going to take it and clasp it to my breast, as if I didn't want to swing my knife and chop off every one of her fingers for killing my father, for wishing me dead, for giving up on us all when my mother was killed.

"I knew then that you were worthy of her. A daughter that could burn the earth to the ground with the power of the djinn."

She reached for me again, and something in me snapped. "You killed Baba. You condemned me to death. You destroyed your family for a daughter who would have hated your actions. Mama loved Baba. And she loved me. And you destroyed the things she loved in her memory."

I exhaled, the back of my eyes burning. I lowered my sword. "I am not like you. I will not throw my entire life away anymore on a path that leads to nothing but death and ash. That is not what Amma would have wanted for either of us."

My grandmother dropped her hands, and her face took on a grim cast. "Then it appears I will get a chance to fulfill my bargain after all."

The door behind me moved, the glint of a scimitar flashing through it.

"Dani." Mazin's eyes flicked between my grandmother and me. "I found Noor. She's okay. She was immobilized and tied up, but I couldn't free her. I think it was djinn magic."

I whirled my eyes back to my grandmother. "So, you did consume the seeds."

She scoffed. "You think I would waste that power? You had it all at your fingertips. I thought you were smarter than this." She looked at Mazin. "But you chose someone weak to be beside you as well."

"He's not weak," I uttered, my voice low. "Weakness is destroying your only family for vengeance, killing those who love you for your own gain." I lowered my sword and took a step forward. "But you don't have to do this, Nanu. You can still come with us." I slid the sword into its sheath. "We'll destroy the seeds, make it so no one can ever use them again." I swallowed a lump in my throat, thinking of everything she had done to my father, me, Maz. So many lives destroyed for revenge.

But the cycle ended here.

"I forgive you, Nanu. I forgive what you've done."

My grandmother watched me for a long moment, her eyes bright. "Forgive me? There is nothing to forgive. I gave you the chance to be strong, to forge your own destiny, and now you've thrown it away." She reached into the pocket of her dark shalwar, pulling out a handful of seeds. "But I won't throw it away. I am going to steal it for myself."

She stuffed a palmful in her mouth, the dark seeds glistening like tiny bugs, blackening her gums, her mouth, her tongue.

I lunged forward, grabbing at her wrist. "Nanu, stop! You have no idea what this amount will do to you."

I had seen Noor be so careful, grinding up the seeds quietly, measuring out each portion diligently. I'd seen Thohfsa collapse and die from eating too much.

When the djinn magic was in your blood, you felt invincible.

I felt the pull of it now with the power in my veins, and I fought to control it. I tried to still her limbs but I was too late. She'd eaten them, and her eyes were alight with zoraat. She roared in pain, clutching at her throat, her eyes bulging. Then she turned her wild, feral gaze on Mazin and me.

I looked at Maz, our eyes meeting, everything I wanted to say to him contained in that one glance. Fear. Longing.

Love.

And then I opened my mouth and uttered one final word to him. "Run."