Every word comes out weaker than the last. She’s visibly struggling, the simple memory of her ordeal draining her of her strength. I don’t think I’ve ever hated myself more. “I’m an idiot. I protected you from a magical threat, but not a mundane one.”
It never occurred to me that Kasim would resort to such an option. Donning a human’s guise should feel humiliating to him. But maybe I’ve underestimated him, and just how far he’s willing to go.
“I’ll go see if your people saw anything,” Sigurd whispers. “Rakan… She’s safe now.”
He leaves, the echo of his words settling over Iris and me like a heavy blanket. Normally, I’d believe him. She’s right here, shaking, but alive, as real as the day I met her. But I’ve failed her once. What’s to say I won’t fail her again?
“I’m sorry, Iris. This is all my fault.”
For the longest time, Iris is completely silent. It should feel like condemnation, but Iris is never quiet in her anger. Somehow, this is worse.
But she needs it, needs this moment of stillness. Her breathing starts to ease, and the violent tremors finally begin to leave her body.
“I don’t blame you for what happened, Rakan,” she says at last. “I just… I don’t understand.”
Of course she doesn’t, because I’ve kept the truth from her. Like a liar. “Kasim is my older sibling, my only family, really. But when I was younger… A human took him captive.”
“That’s why he’s angry?” Iris asks. “Because he was forced to fulfill wishes against his will?”
“Not exactly,” I answer, sighing.
Without another word, I pick her up and carry her out of the kitchen. The scene of her confrontation with Kasim isn’t the right setting for what I have to say.
I slowly make my way through the penthouse, toward the library. A few hours ago, this was the place where I kissed her against the bookcase. The room looks no different now. But it is, because of what I’m carrying. Because of what I’m going to say.
I set her down on the small settee and reach for the same shelf she found her scroll on. Right there, behind the books, is a lamp. It’s almost identical to the one Sigurd and I pulled from the ocean.
“Humans perceive lamps as objects of punishment for djinn. But the reality is quite different. They’re actually… Well, for us, lamps house our souls.”
I take my lamp and set it in her lap. Iris’s hands instinctively go to it, a reaction no doubt born from the urge to protect something rare. Two seconds later, she goes completely white, as if she’s just realized what she’s holding. “Y-Your soul?” she stammers.
Her hold on my lamp tightens, and she pulls it close. I can’t help but feel guiltily comforted. Her touch is so gentle, so kind. I have a feeling my brother didn’t have this luxury.
I produce Kasim’s lamp and hold it up for her to see. “That human… He stole Kasim’s lamp. And when he was done with my brother, he made a wish Kasim couldn’t fulfill. An unfulfillablewish… That’s an almost unbreakable chain. And because of it, Kasim was locked up inside the lamp.”
To this day, I don’t know what type of wish that human had demanded. It died with him, but even then, it didn’t free Kasim. Even then, his lamp remained lost. “I tried to find him, to free him,” I continue. “But it was too late.”
Three hundred years went into the search—markets, vaults, the desert shrines where old prisons were sometimes unearthed, anywhere a thing like that might have been buried or forgotten. Every year that ended with nothing in my hands was a year my brother spent in the dark.
A djinn isn’t meant to be kept that way.
By the time I broke the seal, what came out had Kasim’s face. It walked with his gait. It looked at me like a stranger, and then it didn’t. The recognition was worse.
I shake my head, trying to chase away the memories. “The time he spent in the lamp broke his mind. It turned him into… that. Into an ifrit.”
“An ifrit. And that’s…”
“A different type of djinn. Colder. More ruthless and crueler than I could ever be.” Kasim shouldn’t be one either, but that is the price for my failure. “But even so… He’s still my brother. And when you called about the harpy murder…”
Iris’s eyes widen. “Oh. So that’s what this is about. That’s the real reason I was the loose end.”
I nod. There’s so much I want to tell her, a million apologies I want to make. ButI’m sorryis hardly good enough. “That’s right. Iris, I know what I’ve done. I kept the truth from you. And I haven’t managed to keep you safe. But it won’t happen again. I promise you—”
“You don’t have to promise me anything.” She cuts me off. “I understand, and I don’t blame you. Even if he is an ifrit, you love him. Just as he loves you.”
I can’t help but let out a bitter laugh. “Sometimes, love isn’t enough.”
“And sometimes, it is. Otherwise, humans and monsters could have never learned to live together.”
