finding peace with both her communities, defiant proof a shafit could be anything, even a Nahid healer.
And then it was gone. That kind of optimism had been beaten out of Nahri a long time ago.
“I envy you sometimes,” she said softly. “I wish I had your faith in people’s goodness.” And then before she could see the pity she’d hate in his eyes, Nahri turned and walked away.
NAHRI DIDN’T RETURN UNTIL SUNDOWN, AND AFTER A tense meal of stale bread and dates—they’d learned to mutual chagrin early in their journey that each assumed the other had more cooking experience—they went back to the boat, sailing until the day’s light was gone before dropping anchor. Ali fell asleep fast, the pain from his marid magic taking a visible toll.
Nahri should have found a way to keep herself awake. Ever the soldier, Ali had suggested they trade shifts. But it had been a long day, and she found it impossible to keep her eyes open as the warm velvet of the darkening sky and gentle rock of the boat lulled her into a drowsy spell.
The sounds of distant sobbing pulled her back to consciousness. Nahri blinked, momentarily forgetting where she was, and then another wail came. It sounded like a woman, somewhere upriver, ending in weeping that carried along the water.
A finger of ice brushed down Nahri’s spine, adrenaline banishing the remnants of her stupor. She must have been sleeping for some time, because it was now pitch-black, so dark she could barely see her own hands. And utterly, unnaturally silent, the usual drone of insects and the creak of frogs gone.
The weeping came again. Nahri sat up and then tumbled as the boat lurched in the water, rocking as though the sail had caught. Which was impossible because the sail was tied back and the anchor let out.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen a night like this. She crept forward. The moon was a bare sickle, its weak light scattered on the flowing water, and the scrubby trees and reeds on either bank were impossibly black, the kind that seemed capable of swallowing one whole.
Her bearings lost, she stumbled directly into Ali’s sleeping body. He popped upright like he was on a spring, the gleam of his khanjar already in hand. She opened her mouth to explain, but then the weeping came again, the plaintive cry nearly musical.
“Is that someone singing?” Ali asked.
“I don’t know,” Nahri whispered back. The woman did seem to be singing now, though not in any language Nahri had ever heard. It cut through her, bone-deep, and goose bumps erupted over her arms. “It sounds like a funeral dirge.”
The glint of the khanjar disappeared as Ali resheathed it. “Maybe she needs help.”
“That’s unfortunate for her.” When Ali glanced at her, disapproval in his glimmering eyes, Nahri spoke more firmly. “I don’t know what stories you heard growing up, but I’m not hunting after some mystery voice in the middle of the night.”
Light suddenly burst before them, fire flaring so brightly that Nahri held a hand over her eyes. The scene came to her in starry pieces: the large, pale lumps scattered across the choppy water, the rocky riverbank and spiky brush jutting up like teeth.
The woman swaying on the bank, fire gushing from her outstretched hands.
The burning singer before them was definitely not some lost farm girl. Her skin was pale—too pale, the color of bone—and her black hair was uncovered, falling in glossy waves past her ankles to pool in the shallows at her feet. She was dressed simply and sparsely in a thin shift that clung wetly to her body, leaving little of its curves hidden.
Not to mention the fire. Nahri instinctively stood, the healer in her mind going to burns and salves … until she realized the woman wasn’t burning, not quite. Tendrils of flames caressed her wrists and danced through her fingers, but her skin wasn’t blackened, nor did the air smell of charred flesh.
And when she met Nahri’s gaze, there was no pain in it. There was delight. The delight of one genuinely and wonderfully surprised.
“Oh, but you are the last person I expected in my net.” The woman grinned, her teeth gleaming in the firelight. “What a lovely gift.”
Nahri gaped at her. There was something about the woman’s leering smile and voice that she would swear …
Her stomach dropped. “Qandisha.”
The ifrit laughed. “Clever girl.” She snapped her fingers, and the fire rushed to embrace her, the human appearance vanishing. “You’ll forgive