“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.”
