the disguise. The fiery skin doesn’t lend itself to hunting.”
At the word “hunting,” Ali edged in front of Nahri. The ifrit’s gleaming orange eyes locked on the prince, and her lips twisted into a snarl.
“Suleiman’s mark,” Qandisha sneered. “Are you that djinn king, then?” She regarded them with a hungry, amused curiosity, like how a cat might watch an insect. “Oh, Aeshma …” She chuckled. “Whatever has gone wrong with your grand plan?”
Ali drew his zulfiqar. “And what plan would that be?”
“One that should have ended with both of you dead.” Qandisha’s voice turned alluring. “There’s not much you can do with that blade all the way out there, little mortal. Why don’t you come closer? I have been aching for some company.”
Nahri stepped back, dread crawling up her chest. “Ali, I don’t care what magic you have to use. Get us out of here.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Qandisha warned. “We’ve not yet finished our conversation.” She snapped her fingers, making a beckoning motion at the water. “My friends will find you rude.” She spread her hands, illuminating the river.
Nahri let out a strangled gasp.
The pale humps floating in the water were not rocks. They were bodies, at least a score of them, in various states of decay. Slain human men who abruptly raised their heads from the water and stared at her with sightless eyes.
Qandisha dropped her hands, and the bodies fell back into the water with a sickening unified splash. “Your countrymen are so welcoming,” she goaded. “‘Ya, sayyida, do you need help?’” she mocked in Egyptian Arabic. “And so very eager to share their whispers of a boat reputed to fly across the Nile as though enchanted.” She tsked. “I’ve been roaming these lands for thousands of years in search of djinn slaves. You really should have taken better care to mask your presence.”
Nahri swore under her breath, cursing herself for her misstep. That it was Qandisha who’d caught them made it worse. Nahri still remembered how easily Qandisha had overpowered Dara at the Gozan, nearly drowning him before the marid made the river rise. She and Ali might have been safe with the thick band of the Nile separating them from the ifrit, but Nahri didn’t like their odds should a mob of ghouls swarm the boat.
And they weren’t just ghouls. They were her countrymen. Innocent humans, Egyptians who shared her tongue and her land, killed to slake an ifrit’s curiosity.
Hatred rushed through her. “I take it Aeshma left you out of his plan if you’re out here murdering defenseless humans. Was your company so unbearable?”
The ifrit shrugged. “A concession to your Afshin. It’s a shame he’s so disinterested in recovering his memories of our time together. He was glorious.” Cruelty flickered in her eyes. “He must be crushed to have lost you again. You were the first one he begged for, you know. No sooner dragged back to life than he was weeping, ‘Nahri! Where’s Nahri?’”
The words had been meant to cut deep, and they did, memories of Dara’s pleas tumbling through her. Nahri fought for a response, angry denial coming first. “Dara serves my mother now. He’s a murderer. They both are.”
The ifrit laughed, but there was a new coldness in it. “So are you, but no matter. Darayavahoush clearly meant just as little to your ancestors. A shame, truly, to waste such loyalty … and talent.”
Qandisha licked her lips as she said it, but Nahri refused to indulge that line of provocation. “I’m no murderer,” she said instead.
“No? You killed Sakhr in cold blood.” When Nahri frowned, the name confusing her, genuine anger flashed in Qandisha’s eyes. “You don’t even remember his name, do you? A man you blood-poisoned and left for his brother to find.”
Blood-poisoned. Sakhr, the ifrit who’d attacked her at the Gozan, of course—years ago.
Nahri shook her head, still defiant. “He was no man, he was an ifrit. A monster.”
Qandisha growled. “Who are you to decide who is a monster? You are a slip of time, a little mortal girl foul with the taint of humanity and descended from a traitor. Sakhr was worshipped as a god. He battled with prophets and roamed the northern winds. He was my friend,” she snapped, all trace of humor gone. “A companion during these long centuries.”
“Nahri …” Ali moved toward her, a warning in his voice.
“Interrupt again, djinn, and I will have you dragged beneath the waves.” Qandisha’s gaze was for Nahri alone. “How very Nahid of you to flit between djinn and