Chapter 19
We fled through the night as fast as we could, following the villagers along a dizzying trail of hills and groves, wadis and
beaches they said the Frank and his men would not be able to trace. After some time, Raksh dropped me to the ground without
warning, complaining of my weight. My knee was in active agony, but I staggered on, wanting nothing more than to get off Socotra.
Day was breaking when we stopped at a quiet lagoon, the still water painted with the colors of sunrise and surrounded by spiky
black shadows of rustling trees and shrubs. Through a narrow break in the cliffs, I could see where the lagoon trickled out
in a tidal creek to meet the ocean.
“This is where we part,” the village man I’d originally spoken to announced after exchanging some quiet words with Dalila.
He had not given his name and I had not asked—judging from the cautious yet empathetic looks his people had been casting,
I suspected they knew some of what happened to me at Falco’s hands. “We will go to the pirate clans in the west, for they
owe us protection, but they are wary of strangers and will be more so when they learn what happened here. I could not assure
your safety.”
“Then perhaps it’s best not to mention us at all,” I cautioned. “Do you think they will be able to protect you? The Frank
mentioned trying to steal a ship from them.”
He scoffed. “I should like to see him try. The clans are more than capable of defending themselves.”
“And your village?” I hesitated, thinking of the burned huts and three fresh graves. “Will you go back?”
“When God wills it,” the man said, with conviction. “That fiend was not the first to invade our lives with violence and he
will not be the last. But this is our land, our island, and we will not leave it for foreign greed.” Grief twisted his face.
“Though should the clan decide swifter vengeance is needed, I will not argue.”
Nor would I. The prospect of Socotran pirates mopping up whatever remained of Falco and his men was about the only thing that
gave me comfort right now. “Then God bless and preserve you,” I said, touching my heart. The place where Raksh had pulled
the stinger from my chest was still cold through my garments.
“And you as well, nakhudha.” The man’s gaze flickered to mine. “Will you go after their scribe? The girl you were seeking?”
My heart sank. “We will try.”
“I wish you luck, then.” He led his people away from the cove.
My companions and I delayed only long enough to eat and pray. I was weary to the bone, my soul drained, and yet I would have
walked for days straight if it got us to the Marawati faster. We had to cross the damnable island again, and Dalila and Tinbu prodded me for plans, clearly troubled by my distressed
manner and sparse, faltering explanation for what had happened with Falco.
But I had energy only to go forward. Not dwell on the disgusting thing that had been forced upon me, or my panic at being
at the mercy of those men. I woke screaming at night and saw blurred visions of enormous snakes and scorpions twining over
the landscape. When I was awake, I felt little better. Whether it was the brush with death or nearly being turned into something
monstrous, I was sick with how close I had come to leaving Marjana motherless. What had I been thinking taking this job— before Salima had given me no choice? And how could I have left Marjana without a single word—a single word!—about her origins?
For Raksh’s return had brought forth a cruel truth: If I died out here, there would be no one who could tell Marjana who her
father was. What he was. No one to aid her if eventually her supernatural heritage did manifest. I’d been an ignorant, arrogant fool to convince
myself I would never need to face this part of my girl’s life, to let my hatred of magic blind me to the fact that Raksh’s
blood did flow through our daughter. Now if I failed to return home, she would have no warning at all.
On his part, however, Raksh behaved, becoming astonishingly helpful. He found springs to refill our waterskins, caught a hare
for a meal, and even offered to massage my legs. Twice. (I took him up on it the second time, aching muscles winning out over
pride, and the bastard promptly did something to my knee that reduced the pain by half, giving me a smirk so smug the relief
was almost not worth it. Almost.) I was no fool—the demon was only briefly being good in hopes of being permitted on the Marawati . But it didn’t matter. I’d made my decision when he explained how he’d known to pull the stinger from my chest.
“I did warn you Falco had been trying to possess a marid,” he’d said nonchalantly as he set the spiked hare over a small fire.
“But that kind of magic takes more than the blood he spilled in the cave—it needs hosts. Or pawns, rather. People whose life
force he can slowly feed to the marid in exchange for control over all of them.”
“What?” I had asked, helplessly lost.
Raksh had rolled his eyes. “It’s beyond your understanding, but suffice to say Falco would have been able to track and control
you to some degree if that stinger had remained.” He popped the hare’s raw heart into his mouth and gave me a bloody smile.
“Good thing your husband was around to save the day.”
My “husband” was right, as much as I was loath to admit it. We were desperate and outmatched. Dunya had left days ago and could have floated in any direction. There was no time to waste searching, not when I had a creature who could point us in the right direction.
Dalila was the first to call me out on it.
I was building a signal fire for the Marawati when she approached, silently as always, and touched my shoulder. I nearly jumped out of my skin, thrown back into the nightmare
of Falco’s men shoving me to the sand.
“Sorry,” I muttered, flushing in embarrassment.
“You need not apologize.” Dalila crouched beside me. “Did they touch you?” she asked after another moment.
My mouth went dry. We both knew what she was really asking. “No. Not like that,” I replied. “He threatened it... but had
other plans in the end.”
Dalila’s lip curled in disgust. “I wish we could have watched them burn.”
I didn’t disagree, but Raksh chose that unfortunate moment to cross our line of sight, and my companion’s gaze sharpened.
“You’re letting that demon come with us, aren’t you?” she said flatly.
Breaking another branch, I tossed it on the pile. “I have no choice.”
“And why is that?” There was no judgment in her voice, which itself was suspicious. It felt like Dalila was leaving room for
me to explain, something for which she did not typically have patience.
I chose my words with caution. “For one, he would throw a fit worthy of a toddler if we tried to leave him behind and then
undoubtedly find a violent way to force the issue. Second, I truly believe we shall have better luck searching for Dunya if
he is with us. And third...” I exhaled. “Dalila, I don’t know how to fight this Frank if he comes for us again. He has
access to powers I can scarcely imagine.”
“ If he comes for us,” she pointed out. “Falco has no way off Socotra right now, if he’s even alive. And Raksh might be less help
than you think. I would pray that it was exceedingly obvious he holds loyalty to none but himself.”
If only she knew. “I do not trust him one whit. But for the time being, he is more useful on our side than set against us.”
Dalila stared at me. “You are keeping secrets from him. Why do I feel as though you are doing the same with Tinbu and me?”
Because I am. Because I knew what Raksh was when I let him join us and everything that happened after is my fault. I hesitated. Dalila was the one member of my crew who might understand, who might not rush to condemn me. A woman who had
spent years acting in her own self-interest and never apologized for it.
But my shame was still too great. “This is enough wood,” I said, changing the subject. “Let us... let us just return to
the Marawati . Find Dunya. Then we will deal with Raksh.” I lit the signal fire. “Thank you, by the way.”
Dalila sighed, clearly aware I was avoiding her prying. “Thank me for what?”
“For saving my life with the black powder I told you that you couldn’t have and then for being so magnanimous as to not throw
it in my face.”
She let out a barking laugh and some of the tension between us melted away. “Oh, nakhudha, I am merely waiting for the most
profitable moment.”
“I figured as much.” But as I recalled what had originally led to our spat, I could not help but venture, “Can I ask you something
ridiculous?”
“Amuse me.”
“Are you from here?” When the humor vanished from Dalila’s face like a door had been slammed, I quickly added, “The way you
reacted at the village. I thought that-that maybe this was home.”
Dalila pressed her lips in a thin line, gazing at the fire as the kindling caught. Finally she answered. “No. I am not from
Socotra. I am from a Christian village like it.” She paused. “But the people who burned it weren’t Franks. Or Christians.”
Messy guilt snarled through me; I could read her carefully selected words well enough. “I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I didn’t know. I mean, I figured something must have happened to lead to your joining the Banu Sasan, but—”
“I don’t want to talk about that. It’s not—looking backward serves no purpose,” she said more fiercely as a few spots of color
blossomed in her cheeks. “And you don’t need to apologize for things you had nothing to do with. But if you want to make it
up to me... don’t go another decade without corresponding. I have very few friends, you know.”
Oh, Dalila . My heart panged as I looked at her, really looked at her. I had assumed there was some sort of early tragedy in her life, but Dalila had always seemed so unshakably capable, frighteningly
so, at times, given her profession. Her past—her very identity—was a subject strictly off-limits, and I wondered now how much