of the ifrit who enslaved him? And they’re happy to help her, their mortal enemy?”
Ali had betrayed no surprise when she said she wasn’t going back to Egypt—perhaps he really was starting to read her—but looked unconvinced at her other words. “Your mother was clever enough to outwit my father. Do you really think she’d fall for an ifrit scheme?”
“I think the ifrit were scheming for millennia before we were born. And yes, I think Manizheh might have been so hungry for power and revenge that she didn’t care about the costs. Or perhaps she thought she could outwit them as well. Either way …” Nahri’s throat constricted in fear, her body far more reasonable that her stupid, suicidal heart. “I can’t sit this out. Daevabad is my home. Our home.” She laced her fingers through his again. “The Qahtanis and the Nahids got us here. I think it should be an al Qahtani and a Nahid who fix it. Or more likely die trying in some horrible fashion.”
He squeezed her hand. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that last part. But—oh!” Ali dropped her hand. “I nearly forgot!” He rose to his feet and loped off.
“Forgot what?” Nahri called.
But he was already returning. “I hung it on a tree to dry out.”
Nahri recognized the black bag in his hands. “My instruments!” she exclaimed in delight. She jumped up and pulled the bag from him, quickly examining it. All seemed in order, and she breathed a sigh of relief, the sight of the tools lightening the mantle of despair heavy upon her. “Oh, Ali … thank you!” she said, throwing her arms around his neck. “How in God’s name did you find this?”
“I …” She seemed to have caught him off guard. Then Nahri was suddenly very aware of his shirtless state. She blushed, stepping back, and Ali continued. “Sobek—the marid found it for me. I asked him to retrieve it.”
“You asked a marid to fetch my bag?” Nahri shuddered. “You frighten me sometimes. But thank you. And thank you as well for all that back on the beach,” she added, her cheeks going warmer with embarrassment. “You’re a good friend. Probably the best one I’ve ever had.” She hardened her voice. “But if you tell anyone I cried, I’ll kill you.”
Ali looked like he was trying not to smile. “Consider me properly threatened.”
“Good. Let’s go, then. We’ve wasted enough time, and I’d like to know what happened last night that left you on a first-name basis with a marid.”
“It’s a long story.”
“Ali, nothing about this trip has gone well. You know we have a long walk.”
NAHRI STEPPED OVER THE ROTTING REMAINS OF A fallen palm tree, pushing a sweat-soaked tendril of hair from her face. Leery of walking on the open beach, they’d stuck to the edge of the forest. “So he was a crocodile or just looked like one?”
Ahead, Ali cut through a net of green vines. “He seemed like something in between,” he answered. “Like he was both at once. The more I tried to look at him, the harder it became to distinguish.”
“And he knew of me?”
“He claimed he was the marid who cursed your appearance. He said it was part of a pact with your human kin, meant to protect you.”
“My human kin?” Nahri stopped in her tracks. “I have family in Egypt? Did he tell you anything else?”
Ali glanced back, apologetic. “He said they were dead. I’m sorry, Nahri. He refused to tell me anything more. That’s why he put you to sleep. He said it was best you didn’t remember.”
I had family in Egypt. I am Egyptian—truly. It was a bittersweet revelation, because deep in her heart, Nahri feared she’d never see Egypt again. And yet it only threw another knot into the tangled tapestry of her past. Her mother was a Daevabad-raised Banu Nahida whose every movement had been watched. Nahri had supposedly been born in Daevastana, on the road between Daevabad and Zariaspa. Where in that story was there room for an Egyptian father, a shafit? And how had Nahri been returned to his homeland as a child?
“Every time I learn something new, it just dredges up more questions.” Nahri kicked a desiccated coconut. “I hate it. I hate puzzles. You can’t come up with a plan if you don’t have all the pieces.”
“For what it’s worth, he confirmed some of what we thought about the marid’s involvement in the city’s fall. He accused Anahid of stealing the lake and