Chapter 44
Zahhak and his army of soldiers, at least a hundred of them, blocked our exit.
They were dressed in armor, swords at the ready.
Zahhak was out of his cloak and wearing similar armor to his men.
His snakes’ hisses were earsplitting, even amid the rumble of the soldiers, the clinking of metal and heavy breathing.
I could feel their hunger, their lust for blood, as thick as the smoke that filled the clouds.
All the jinn magic, I assumed, had resulted in the heavy gray mist above us.
Perhaps even traveling smoke from the festival that had continued all around the Underworld despite what was descending on the palace grounds.
The mist began to move, like it was being pushed aside, and then div sprang free from the sky, falling like rain onto the gardens as they infiltrated Zahhak’s army.
Another round of fighting began.
Zahhak’s army fought against the div, though it took two of his men to handle each div.
No matter how skilled Zahhak’s soldiers were at combat, they lacked the strength to match the div.
For just a second, I watched the div rip apart the soldiers like wild animals.
And with a pang, it dawned on me that that would have been how they killed my mum. We were working with real monsters.
“We’re sitting ducks in here,” Azar hissed. “We need to get out.”
“I don’t want to go out there, do you?” I said.
Zahhak watched as his men fell.
“Our powers don’t work here. That’s why they’re blocking us in. We have to go,” Azar said.
“You two stay here,” Keyon said, moving to the front doors, holding his dagger close to his body.
Zain turned me to face him and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.
“No,” I said, knowing I was being cowardly but not caring. “If you go out there…it’s too dangerous.”
“Roxana, I’m trained to fight, not to stand by and watch. It’s the only way to end this.”
I nodded back against the tears that had escaped my eyes. “Zain, I need to tell you something. I—”
“No,” he interrupted. “Save it for after we win.”
And then he and Keyon went through the doors and into the chaos that abounded outside. Already bodies lay on the ground—not just soldiers but div, too. Azar watched as Keyon fought through the shambles, but my eyes were on Zahhak, who had his sights set on Zain.
It didn’t make sense to me why the Jinn King bothered with warrior garb. His powers offered him so much more protection than that.
Zain waded through the mass of soldiers, pushing them away with ease, dodging their thrusts or grabbing their swords and killing them with their own weapons.
It was like watching a dance, seeing Zain fight, seamless in his movements.
And with each kill, each punch, he gained more weaponry, which he hooked onto his belt.
He now held a sword high as he charged toward Zahhak.
“No,” I heard Azar gasp next to me. I followed her eyes to where Keyon was, several feet from Zain.
He had made good progress battling the soldiers, but he was outnumbered, the div too busy with their own fight to help him.
And perhaps they didn’t want to help Keyon, their aims as jinn too different.
There were three soldiers surrounding Keyon, and he looked to be injured, his side bleeding.
Before I could say anything, Azar ran to him.
I shouted at her to stop, but she didn’t listen.
As she sprinted across the battlefield that had once been a wedding venue, she stooped down to collect a fallen sword.
Without breaking her stride, she dodged the attack of one soldier, blocking his sword with her own, pressing hard on it and letting go, disarming him, then plunging the sword through his torso.
She cleanly withdrew her now-bloodied weapon and waded through the other soldiers, dodging them or meeting them blow for blow until she reached Keyon.
It was like watching a stranger. I had known Azar was skilled in self-defense from her teaching classes in London, but I didn’t know she could fight with a sword.
Then I realized that just like I had memories of my past selves, Azar must have had recollections of herself as a warrior and had tapped into them.
Standing behind one of the soldiers who had his sword raised to Keyon, she lifted her own, her biceps straining with the weight of the heavy metal.
She sliced longways, and the soldier’s head fell to the ground.
The second gawked at her in surprise, hesitation etched on their face.
Could they kill the kind-of granddaughter of Zahhak, a future queen?
Azar seemed to be saying something to them, and their face twisted, their sword whipping toward her.
She shifted to the side impossibly fast—using her power.
Keyon had killed the third soldier and now he and Azar turned on the second.
Crisis temporarily averted, my eyes darted back to Zain and Zahhak.
It seemed Zahhak had realized it was pointless pretending to be a common soldier, because he had dropped his sword to the ground and raised his hand in the air, toward Zain.
It was like he had hooked Zain with an invisible rod and was reeling him across the gardens to where he stood.
I watched on in horror as Zain fought against it, lifting himself high in the air with his wings and breaking whatever bond Zahhak had tried to bridge between them. Zain’s power clearly displeased him.
Zahhak roared, and the ground shook. The snakes’ moans were louder now; they were calling for blood, for my angel’s sweet, heavenly blood.
I ran, barefoot, across the grass, jumping over dead bodies to make my way to Zain and Zahhak. They were by the altar, where only hours earlier I had almost been wed to Keyon.
Sensing me a few steps away, Zain whipped around, his face contorted in a mixture of anger and fear.
“What are you doing?” he shouted.
Zahhak had his hands in the air and, catching Zain unawares, used his powers on him again, dragging him closer with invisible threads. And it was my fault for distracting him—for doing the opposite of what I was meant to do in coming here.
I willed fire into my palms and shot fireball after fireball at Zahhak, the impact blowing him off his feet and sending him tumbling.
The pull he had on Zain broke once more, and Zain fell to the ground. I ran to him.
“Are you okay?” I breathed.
He stood, a thunderous expression on his face. “What are you doing? You’re going to get yourself killed.”
I shook my head. “No, I’m not.” It wasn’t just my current self who said this, but the many versions of me. They surged within me. Their power sang. They had died many times before, and now they willed us to survive.
“I’d like a little privacy,” I heard Zahhak purr behind me. I turned, and his hands were already raised in the air. He threw them down, and it was like we were encased in a bubble of his own making. Just Zain, Zahhak, and me. Beyond us was nothing but smoke.
“What…” I began.
Zain moved himself between me and Zahhak. “He’s blocked us from the rest of them.”
“I want to see your face, dear Roxana, when I kill your angel. With no interruptions, no disturbances,” Zahhak cooed, taking steps toward us.
“Then I will kill you. It’s a shame, but maybe I will try again in the next cycle.
Maybe your next self will be less…pathetic.
Less of a traitor. Though that’s doubtful. ”
I squared my shoulders.
“Things are different this time,” I whispered.
“I can’t hear you, azizam,” Zahhak said with a laugh. “But anyway, first things first.” In his hands were daggers, which he tossed up. They stopped midair, hovering. Then he waved his hand, and they flew toward us. Zain shoved me back, away from them. Knives dug into each of his wings.
He yelled in pain, falling to his knees.
“Exactly what I thought you would do,” Zahhak said.
“Zain!” I cried. His face was instantly drained of blood.
“It is very easy to knock an angel down,” Zahhak mused. “Embarrassingly so. Their wings are so sensitive.”
Zain drew a breath and yanked the dagger out of his left wing, grunting gutturally as he did so. He was still on his knees, though. He needed time to recover.
Kill them, the snakes seemed to be hissing.
No.
The rush of Rabiya rumbled within me at the sight of Zain hurting, his wings bleeding, staining the white feathers crimson. While my heart broke at the sight, hers hardened. No, she said within me.
No, Bahar breathed.
No, Sahra roared.
No, Mahsa yelled.
No, Gol cried.
No, Anahita screamed.
All the versions of me after Rabiya said no. Enough. And I felt all the other versions of me, predating Rabiya, who never met Zain but who felt our trauma, course through my body, willing the cycle to end.
I took a step forward, raging, and my flames erupted around us, creating another circle enclosing us. This time, Zain was outside the bubble, protected from Zahhak. Safe.
This was between me and the Jinn King.
“She’s learning,” Zahhak cooed, eyes darkening.
“She is going to kill you,” I said coolly, my voice not even my own. My body was engulfed in flames. I felt the heat from every pore—it flooded my mind—and each breath sent more fire through the air. Zahhak narrowly missed each flame I threw his way. I’d caught him off guard.
He waved one hand toward me, flicking his wrist upward. Invisible bonds clung to my waist, and with just a tightening of his fingers, the bonds around my body became suffocatingly tight.
It felt as though my bones were shattering. I gasped, desperate for air, for something that would take away this feeling.
The moon shone above us, bearing witness as it had when we died three hundred years ago.
“Roxana!” I heard Zain call. “Release the fire. Let me in. He’ll kill you!”
I shook my head. I couldn’t. Zahhak would kill Zain first— I knew that. And I’d rather die than let that happen.
A wash of heat ran through my entire body, my power burning me from within and in turn breaking the bonds that Zahhak had placed around me.