The mix of zoraat that Noor blended burned down my throat like the aftermath of vomiting—sharp, acidic, and it coated my tongue with a bitter film.
I gagged. Noor stood beside me with a grim expression.
“I didn’t think I would need another dose this soon.”
“Remember that in order to keep the shape of another human being, the zoraat needs to be consistent. For anything else you generally just need to take what you need for the job at hand, just like a djinn healer might if they need to heal a specific ailment. But transfiguration is a very strong power. And it requires strong magic.”
I collapsed on my bed, the embroidered coverlet bunching up under my prone body.
“And for the crops?” I murmured.
“I’m working on it. The blend should be ready soon, I just have to tweak a few things. But that one won’t be as bad—this one is about changing the very essence of your body, your skin, hair, eyes, voice. Everything that makes you,you. In order to use that specific djinn power, it takes pain and exposure to zoraat.”
I pressed my hands against the wall, shaking with the force of the poison coursing through my veins. I looked up at them, shocked tosee the black veins covering my skin once more, this time spreading from my fingertips to my wrists.
Startled, I sat up and spread my hands wide in front of me—but the skin on my hands was now brown and unblemished. I blinked. My hands were the same, and entirely still mine.
I knew zoraat wasn’t poison—that wasn’t how anyone in this empire referred to it.
Magic.
That’s what they called it. To wield the power of the djinn was a privilege. But it didn’t feel like that. Every time I swallowed another mouthful of zoraat my body simultaneously recoiled and begged for more. It was like eating fire that burned you from the inside out, when you were so cold you’d do anything to get warm. I was made of clay and the djinn of fire, and consuming their power was to transform the human body into something other. Something unseen.
I gasped and doubled over, this dose taking my breath away.
“It wasn’t this bad before.” The words came out like they were being pulled from my mouth with a sharp hook.
“You already had some in your system, so it should be a little easier.” Noor’s voice was practical. “But I’ve never transfigured someone for this long before.” Surprisingly, her frank honesty calmed me more than her sympathy.
“It feels like my blood has ignited.” I coughed and my mouth held a slight metallic taste.
“That means it’s working.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Or killing me.”
She inclined her head. “That too.”
I huffed a laugh that caused my body to shiver with pain. “Don’t make me laugh.” I groaned and clutched at my stomach.
Something cool pressed against my head and Noor made a soft murmur.
I collapsed onto the floor as my vision blackened.
“You were sleeping for a while.” Noor’s voice cut through the haze in my brain. I coughed and sat up.
I was facedown on my bed, blood crusted to my nose, and my skull feeling like it had been split in half. I lifted my fingers up to feel my face—checking the bridge of my nose, the angle of my cheekbones. I exhaled in relief, though it was still disconcerting to be in another body.
I looked down at my hands, still mine, still scarred and still the thing that grounded me in all this. I examined them for any trace of the black spidery lines that had crawled up my hands earlier. Nothing.
Noor was sitting in a chair beside the bed, tinkering with the zoraat.
“How long was I out for?”
“Most of the afternoon.”
“How often do I need to do that?” I couldn’t handle something like that every day.
But that dark, wild part of me that rejoiced in the magic flooding through my system, at the power in my hands, came alive.
