work for this, aren’t you?” He set down his wine. “Let’s get started, then.”
20
NAHRI
In the dim light of the ship’s tiny cabin, Nahri pressed her fingers against the pulse in Ali’s wrist.
“Your heart sounds okay,” she murmured, moving her examination up to study the bruised knot on his temple where she’d hit him with the oar. “How’s the bump?”
Ali’s groggy eyes rolled up to meet her gaze. “Well, there’s no longer two of you.”
Guilt rushed over her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. You were fighting us, and I was so worried that if you went overboard—”
He touched her wrist. “It’s all right. Really.” It looked like Ali was trying to smile, but then he winced, the movement clearly pulling at the sizable swollen egg still rising on his face. “I’ll take getting knocked out over being lured into the sea by mysterious voices any day.”
Nahri went to move her hand to his heart. “Do you want me to try and heal—”
“No.” His fingers instantly tightened on her wrist. “Don’t heal me. I don’t think we should be doing any healing magic while we’re still at sea. Not after the way Sobek spoke about the Nahids. I don’t want any new marid learning about you, especially not while we’re floating in their realm.”
She sat back. “So you do think it was the marid who possessed you last night?”
“I think it was the marid, but I’m not sure they possessed me.” Ali shivered, water beading on his brow. “When the marid took me on the lake, when Sobek rooted through my memories, I knew what was happening. I could feel their intrusion. Last night wasn’t that. I was myself the entire time. I wanted to throw myself in the ocean. I wanted to drown al Mudhib and his men. To devour them,” he whispered, sounding sick. “When I looked at you, it was like you were a stranger.” He met her gaze, and the open fear in his eyes sent ice flooding through every inch of her body. “I don’t know what that means, Nahri.”
She had never seen him sound so afraid—and she and Ali had faced a lot together. Nahri suddenly saw him falling to his knees as Manizheh tortured him, heard him crying out as he vanished beneath a mob of ravenous ghouls.
She took a sharp breath against the dread barreling through her chest. “It means no more marid magic. Not at sea and not when we get back to shore. Don’t use it again. Not ever.”
Ali sighed. “We’re at war, and it’s the only power I have.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter. We have an entire city to—”
“It doesn’t matter. You don’t want any more marid learning about me? Well, I don’t want any more luring you to your death. We’ll find another way to fight, okay?” Still seeing reluctance in his expression, Nahri added more urgently. “Please.” She leaned forward, pulling a blanket she’d borrowed from the crew over Ali’s body and tucking it in place around his shoulders. “I don’t want to lose you. I can’t.”
The fervor in her response seemed to take Ali aback. This close, Nahri could feel the steamy heat rising from his skin beneath the thin blanket. He tried to smile again. “You really never are letting me out of your debt, are you?”
It was clearly a joke, but Nahri felt like she’d just been kicked in the heart. The sight of him attempting to smile, sick and weak, made her feel helpless.
It made her feel something she was not ready to, like she’d unknowingly taken a couple steps on a path Nahri realized only now was unsteady, with no way to go back.
No. Don’t do this. Not again. Not now.
Nahri shot to her feet. “I’m going to see if I can’t steep some willow bark,” she said, forcing a strained professionalism into her voice. Work, her most favored distancing technique. “It will help with your pain. No, don’t talk—” she added, raising a hand when Ali opened his mouth. “Just rest. Doctor’s orders.”
Then she slipped out of the cabin, shut the door, and leaned against it, closing her eyes. It was fine. Everything was fine. Her heart was a goddamned unreliable traitor, but that was fine too—Nahri was well experienced at ignoring its foolish, irrational impulses. She opened her eyes, hoping the sight of the bright, sunlit sea might help clear her head.
Everything was not fine.
The water was unnaturally still, a flat plain of pale glass that reflected broken