Chapter Twenty-Four

Once, centuries ago, when Anjeline had been free and still swept across deserts and faraway lands using wish upon wish to keep peace on the horizon, Solomon had asked her if Jinn mistrusted one another. If a Jinn had ever loved a human. She’d lived long and seen many epic things, and the King of Wisdom cared not to speak of wars and rulers, armies and magicians, but instead, something else. Hope, of a kind, was what he was after, hope of the Jinn and humans living as one.

“Your head’s in the clouds,” she had said. “It is forbidden.”

The boy king had looked confused, as he sat atop his palace’s roof, scratching the wisdom he’d been gifted with down on a papyrus scroll. “Forbidden why?”

Anjeline had slipped from the air as an enormous roc bird, changing into girl form and coming to sit beside him. She’d served the young magician for years, becoming his Jinn Batal, a champion guide he liked to think. But he never understood the rules. “To care for humans who have captured Jinn for our power would be a betrayal.”

“A betrayal to be my friend? Did not the Creator make us both, Wishmaker?”

She’d narrowed her eyes in amusement. Clever boy. But she’d glanced over the land, where fiery beings caressed the sky, to the shaitan who were bound under his power. They worked their magic tirelessly to fashion his glorious temple, their punishment for attacking his kingdom. “And what do you know of the cost of wishes and trust?” she’d asked. “You’ve charmed the shaitan, charmed daughters with your poems, but you’re still human. Many will seem trustful, and then they are not.”

Madrath, in all his Jinn potentate wisdom, had taught her as much.

The boy king had brushed a hair from his brow, and the ring on his finger glinted. “But I am your friend. Have I bound you, asked you to be anything else? You’ve helped save my people not because I forced you, but because you know humans. Know some shine brighter than most. As not all Jinn are destructive shaitan.”

She’d laughed, wanting to believe his words. “Wise and true, my friend.”

A small grin had come over the boy king’s face. “Perhaps you’ll meet one who will really make you believe it. Someday, you’ll meet your match. Someone who will challenge you, gain your trust more than me. I hope you meet them soon.”

It had not been soon. It had taken centuries.

Now, as Anjeline curled in the mermaid’s cage, a silence fell in the tunnel chamber, save for the sounds of the river. Her eyes dried of tears, but she still stared at the tunnel’s mouth, clenching Rebel’s book against her breast as if she could press Solomon’s words into her. She’d known her place then, knew the rest of the world lay under her feet as one of the most feared, most powerful wishmakers. But her heart had changed, or at least she understood it better, because deep down, she’d begun dreaming of a world where humans and Jinn existed side by side.

She thought she’d found the one. Told Rebel things she’d never voiced. Not since Solomon had she found a friend, let alone a person who cared enough to hear. For that she’d been foolish enough, arrogant enough, to let herself trust a thief.

Would you think me naive, Solomon?

Madrath surely would. She clenched her eyes shut, remembering how cold Rebel’s cheek had been, needing warmth. Her heart might have been flawed, but Anjeline suspected it might still be good. Might come back for her. She shook her head. No one is that good. Especially humans. Several sprites began fluttering about their pens, whispering at her. She shooed them, holding the book tighter.

Another noise came.

Piran brushed back his bangs and squinted. “Wishmaker, looky there…”

Turning in the direction he pointed, Anjeline detected a dark shape beneath the water. The faint bit of torchlight illuminated the tunnel, casting over a murky figure swimming under the bells, struggling against the current—and heading straight at the eels.

A hand broke through the water’s surface. A human hand. And it held a trout. It hurled the fish down the tunnel and the eels wading below chased it.

At the same time, the dark figure swam in the opposite direction, en route to the floating table. The hand came up again, felt around the tabletop until it touched the pendant, snatched it up, and disappeared into the water. Anjeline bit her lip, watching a trail of bubbles wading toward the cages, her face tightening as the figure closed in.

The water split, and a head bobbed up.

…

Rebel coughed and inhaled deeply. “Thought I could hold my breath longer.” She sputtered. Her teeth were chattering, but when she saw Anjeline, a smile cracked her frozenness. “You should see the look on your face.”

“You…” was all Anjeline said.

With shaking fingers, Rebel worked her switchblade on the cage’s lock, sliding the tension wrench into the slot, and wiggled. The lock clicked. She yanked the door open, but before she could utter a single word, Anjeline’s arms wrapped around her.

She stiffened. “Settle down there, jinni. Conjure a girl dinner first.”

Hugs weren’t something Rebel knew. In fact, she couldn’t remember a time where she had ever been hugged, even as a child. Hot breath caressed her neck as Anjeline held on to her. Warm skin against cold. Those tingles surfaced and her body began to melt. She reached with stiff arms around Anjeline, pressing closer. So warm and soft. Then she felt softer things pressing against her. Her body flushed, working red spots on her face, heating her from the inside out.

“You came back,” Anjeline whispered against her ear.

Rebel shuddered but drew away to look at her. “Came back? I didn’t leave,” she said. A tear still clung to Anjeline’s eyes. And hurt, she noticed—hurt she had put there. “You thought I wouldn’t return?” The idea was absurd, causing her gut to twist.

“You’re a good egg,” Piran voiced, grinning.

“I didn’t know…” Anjeline stared at her for a second and seemed to think better of whatever she was going to say. She slapped Rebel’s arm instead.

Rebel jerked back. “What was that for?”

“For leaving me.”

“I left as a diversion. You know? A ruse?”

“I know what a ruse is. You should’ve told me.”

“I did. I gave you a wink.”

Anjeline paused. “A wink?”

“Yes, a wink to indicate the ruse.” She winked twice in indication.

A laugh was her response.

It trickled out of Anjeline like spun silk, the most genuine thing she’d done since Rebel had laid eyes on her the first time. “You beautiful schemer,” she said. Her taut expression dissolved as she seemed to remember the gesture. But she added, “I’m still angry with you.”

“What? Why?”

“Don’t know, but I’m sure I’ll find a reason.” She reached out to touch Rebel’s face. “You feel like an icicle.” At once, a flourish of heat swept over Rebel’s body—a rush of sizzling air—from her head to her toes, heating her in all the right places. No longer were her clothes soaked to the bone, her hair dripping, or her fingers an icicle blue.

“Bless your fiery soul.” Rebel sighed, wanting to bathe in her heat.

With no time to lose, she unbolted the next cage faster than she’d ever thought possible and snatched the vase, now seeing it as more of an extension to Anjeline’s lifeline. A hand squeezed her arm, and Anjeline shivered, Rebel’s imprint now back on it. She shoved the vessel into her satchel and turned to Piran’s cage, unlocking it.

“Hurry before the mermaid returns,” Anjeline told him.

“The old bat slumbers at the bottom of the sea for a long while.” Piran stretched his wings through his leather jacket, elongating them like elastic. He hovered over the water to the wall, gripping along it like a bat, and grabbed the rope attached to the foam float, bringing it near.

Anjeline and Rebel climbed on, and he floated them to the other penned creatures. Rebel went to work, popping the locks for each cage. A shimmer of light was unleashed as the sprites twittered through the air.

“Take the sides…” Piran waved his hand at two creatures buzzing around, commanding them to the float. The sprites floated near in a hummingbird-like sound, coming into full view for Rebel. Multicolored eyespots laced along their wings, matching their sparkling eyes, and in a moment, they grabbed the ropes tethering the float and heaved.

Piran’s own pinions worked at wild back beats, wagging so fast they turned into blurs, propelling them up through the tunnels faster than they could ever swim. They glided until the waters decreased, passing rubbish piles and slime, and the float skidded forward on a patch of fish bones. Another tunnel came into view where the waters were low enough, enabling them to go on foot. The sprites lit the way as Rebel and Anjeline trudged through puddles with Piran at the head, his metallic hair glinting like a compass.

At last they came to the flagstone stairs leading up into London above, the stairs where Jaxon had led them to Rebel’s ultimate betrayal. They mounted the steps, striding over slime, which she now realized came from the mermaids shedding their scales. Her boot struck the same patch as before, and she swayed. A hand snatched her arm. Anjeline steadied her, keeping her upright. “For having magical hands and feet, you’re horribly clumsy,” she said.

Rebel smiled. “Here I thought you adored me for my scheming.”

“Well, you are cuter when you’re overthinking,” Anjeline said. Though Rebel should’ve been focused on their situation, she found herself staring shyly, with nothing to say.

In several more steps, the city air hit them.

Clock towers rang out across the sky, and the sight of Tower Bridge gave them relief. The buzzing sprites hovered near and Piran bowed to Rebel. “You’ve liberated us. We offer you protection where no commoners set foot.”

“Where’s that, exactly?” she asked warily.

“A safe haven. Our Court.”

Anjeline petted a sprite on her shoulder and explained, “The blessed Sidhe Court.” She met Rebel’s eyes, seeming to gauge whether there would be an argument this time.

“Whatever you’ve heard,” he told Rebel. “we return human kindness with favors.”

“Though”—Anjeline eyed him—“it’s just as dangerous to befriend them as it is to offend them.”

“Sidhe don’t lie. We equivocate.” Piran grinned. “But one cannot pass into the Court unless they are guided by one of us. Or a magician.”

Cock-up. Rebel sighed. It seemed inevitable. “How are we getting there?”

Removing his jacket, Piran loosened his wings in a playful shake of his head, and a wicked grin turned up his lips. “They have the strength of a hundred men,” he said and gestured to the sprites. “To fly you, of course.”

Her heart tripped in a beat. “Fly?”

She felt a feather-soft touch as an arm hooked around her shoulders, and then tiny hands were clutching at her jacket and legs, lifting her and Anjeline into the air. Rebel opened her mouth to speak, but when she did, her mouth filled with wind.

They took to the sky.