For the next several days—
I died repeatedly.
Not literally.
That would have been considerably less exhausting.
Mother died.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Every time I closed my eyes.
Sometimes we were back in the Ntruba.
Sometimes I reached her before the arrow.
Sometimes I didn't.
Sometimes my hands actually worked.
That was the cruelest version.
In those dreams, I pressed my palms against the wound and felt warmth pour through my fingers.
Flesh closed.
Blood stopped.
Mother breathed.
Her silver eyes opened.
She smiled at me.
"Dama."
And I believed it.
Every time.
Then I woke.
And she was dead again.
The first morning aboard Pir's ship, I vomited over the side six times.
The second morning—
nine.
By the third, I stopped counting because numbers had begun feeling judgmental.
Apparently I possessed mysterious Jinnblood capable of making dead flowers bloom—
but my stomach remained completely defenseless against waves.
Magic had priorities.
Mine were terrible.
I barely left the cabin Pir had given me.
That had surprised me.
I'd expected a hammock.
Possibly a crate.
Definitely rats.
Instead, the room was small but beautiful.
Dark polished wood covered the walls.
A narrow bed had been built directly into one side of the cabin beneath a round brass-framed window. Heavy blankets covered it in shades of deep blue and red. A washbasin had been bolted to the floor.
Smart.
Everything was bolted to the floor.
Also smart.
A small cabinet contained clean clothing.
A shelf held books.
Actual books.
Maps.
A lantern hung inside a protective brass cage overhead.
Pir's ship was nothing like the filthy smuggling vessel I'd imagined after realizing I'd boarded it illegally.
The ship itself was enormous.
Three towering masts rose above a hull painted almost black, their sails a deep wine-red that looked nearly crimson whenever sunlight passed through them.
Gold designs curled along the outer hull.
Not Gonaran gold.
Not the obscene look-at-me gold of Idias's palace.
This was older.
Weathered.
Sea dragons twisted around waves.
Stars surrounded crescent moons.
Strange creatures with long tails and enormous fins disappeared beneath carved water.
The figurehead was a woman.
Or perhaps a Jinn.
She rose from the bow with both arms stretched forward, long carved hair transforming into waves around the ship beneath her.
Pearls had been set into her eyes.
Someone had once painted her skin blue.
Most of the paint had been worn away by storms.
The decks were broad enough for dozens of sailors to work without constantly colliding. Brass lanterns hung from curved posts. Thick ropes were kept in perfect coils. Cannons rested behind carved shutters.
The captain's quarters occupied nearly the entire rear section of the upper deck.
There was even a second smaller deck above it.
This wasn't some desperate pirate ship held together with rope, stolen nails, and optimism.
It was a floating fortress.
A beautiful one.
Pir's crew treated it like a home.
Which meant they also treated me like the strange injured animal their captain had unexpectedly brought aboard.
Food appeared outside my door.
Water.
Tea.
Once, a bucket.
I appreciated the bucket most.
Nobody asked questions.
Pir checked on me twice.
The first time, I threw a pillow at her.
She caught it.
The second time, I told her I would poison her if she asked whether I was feeling better.
She nodded thoughtfully.
"Good talk."
Then left.
I liked her.
Unfortunately.
On the fourth morning—
I woke without immediately wanting to vomit.
I lay still.
Suspicious.
The ship moved beneath me.
Up.
Down.
Up.
Down.
My stomach remained where biology had originally placed it.
Interesting.
I waited.
Nothing.
I slowly sat.
Still nothing.
"Ha."
Victory.
Small.
Pathetic.
Mine.
Then sunlight touched the floor.
And I remembered another morning.
White flowers.
Blood.
Mother's hand.
Empty.
My breath caught.
No.
The memory came anyway.
Her body.
The arrow.
My hands pressing against her.
Warm blood between my fingers.
You were always mine.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
"Stop."
My chest tightened.
For several breaths, I was back there.
Forest.
Blood.
Silver hair.
Then—
knock.
I opened my eyes.
Another knock.
Three quick strikes.
Then two.
Then one.
Who knocked like that?
"Dama?"
Pir.
Of course.
"Are you alive?"
I considered.
"Unfortunately."
"Excellent."
The door opened.
I stared.
Pir leaned halfway through.
"You didn't wait."
"You answered."
"I said unfortunately."
"Sounded alive."
She entered.
Today she wore dark trousers tucked into weathered knee-high boots.
No dress.
No skirt.
No attempt whatsoever to resemble the women I'd grown up around.
A loose white shirt hung partially unlaced beneath a fitted leather vest, sleeves rolled above her elbows.
Her coat was missing.
So was approximately half her usual collection of weapons.
She still had three knives.
And a rapier.
Apparently that counted as casual.
Her black hair had been pulled into a high ponytail with the same narrow golden ribbon I'd noticed before.
There was dried blood along one edge.
I still hadn't asked whose.
Her scar cut down the left side of her face, tugging the corner of her mouth into a permanent suggestion that she knew something amusing and had no intention of sharing.
And her eyes—
incarnadine.
Not brown.
Not ordinary red.
Bright, vivid crimson.
They reminded me of embers beneath ash.
She looked like someone who had fought the ocean personally and been disappointed it hadn't put up more of a challenge.
Pir leaned one shoulder against the wall.
"You look terrible."
"Thank you."
"Better than yesterday."
"An improvement."
"You were green."
"I was not green."
"You were."
"People aren't green."
"You were making a determined attempt."
I glared.
Pir grinned.
Different.
That was what struck me about her.
She wasn't graceful like Queen Keila.
She wasn't soft and clever like Mother.
She wasn't polished like the women of the Golden Veil who'd learned to make every movement beautiful because beauty meant money.
Pir occupied space like she'd fought for the right to have it.
Legs apart.
Shoulders loose.
Hands scarred.
Boots loud.
She sat on tables instead of chairs.
Swore when ropes tangled.
Ate apples with a knife.
Apparently slept with a sword.
Yesterday I'd watched her climb halfway up the mainmast because one of her sailors had tied something incorrectly.
The sailor had shouted that someone else could fix it.
Pir had shouted back—
"I am someone else."
Then kept climbing.
There was nothing delicate about her.
Even her beauty seemed irritated by the concept.
Pir jerked her head toward the door.
"Come on."
"Where?"
"My quarters."
Suspicion returned immediately.
"Why?"
"Because you've been hiding in here for four days."
Four.
I blinked.
"Four?"
Pir stopped.
"Yes."
"What day is it?"
She told me.
I stared.
No.
I counted backward.
Gonaro.
The Ntruba.
Mother.
Palace.
Escape.
Ship.
One day.
Then—
four.
My stomach dropped.
"That's wrong."
Pir frowned.
"Usually I'd blame rum, but I'm fairly confident."
"No."
I counted again.
Tomorrow I turn twenty.
Mother's voice.
Tomorrow.
But tomorrow had—
My twentieth birthday had passed.
Somewhere between vomiting into a bucket and waking from nightmares about Mother's death—
I had turned twenty.
I hadn't noticed.
No cake.
No Mother.
No ridiculous comment about becoming old.
No small gift hidden somewhere I would pretend not to know about.
Nothing.
Twenty had arrived while I was sick in a stranger's cabin.
And Mother had been dead for all of it.
"Oh."
Pir's expression changed.
"What?"
"I turned twenty."
Silence.
"When?"
"Apparently three days ago."
Her crimson eyes sharpened.
Something passed across her face.
Understanding.
Then concern.
"Three days?"
"Yes."
Pir became very still.
I hated when knowledgeable people did that.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"That was absolutely something."
"We should talk."
"I am becoming deeply suspicious of that sentence."
"So am I."
She pushed away from the wall.
"Captain's quarters."
I stared at her.
"Am I being kidnapped again?"
Pir snorted.
"You're already on my ship."
"That isn't reassuring."
"You boarded voluntarily."
"I was fleeing soldiers."
"You trespassed voluntarily."
"Under emotional duress."
"Still counts."
"Legally?"
"I'm a pirate."
I paused.
"Fair."
Pir grinned.
"Come on, Silver."
"No."
She stopped.
"Silver?"
"No nicknames."
"Noted."
She made it three steps.
"Herb Witch?"
"Pir."
"Fine."
She looked wounded.
"Extremely restrictive environment."
I followed her.
For the first time since boarding—
I actually saw the ship.
And immediately realized I'd underestimated it.
Considerably.
The vessel was grand.
Not merely large.
Grand.
The main deck stretched beneath three enormous masts carrying layers of crimson sail. Sailors moved through rigging high above us like spiders.
The railings had been carved with waves, serpents, sea birds, and creatures I couldn't name.
Brass gleamed beneath the sun.
Cannons rested behind polished darkwood shutters.
A second staircase descended toward the lower decks.
Through one open hatch I glimpsed rows of hammocks.
Another revealed barrels and supplies.
Another—
weapons.
Many weapons.
I looked at Pir.
"How many people are on this ship?"
"One hundred and seventeen."
I stopped.
"One hundred and seventeen?"
"One hundred and eighteen now."
"I'm not crew."
"You eat our food."
"Temporarily."
"That's how it starts."
Pir continued walking.
Sailors greeted her as we passed.
Not with bows.
Interesting.
"Morning, Captain."
"Pir."
"Captain."
One man held up a broken pulley.
Pir pointed at it.
"You break that?"
"No."
"You lying?"
"Yes."
"Fix it."
"Yes, Captain."
She kept walking.
No fear.
Respect.
Different from Idias.
Very different.
We climbed toward the stern.
Pir's quarters occupied the grandest cabin aboard.
Naturally.
Two broad windows curved along the rear wall, overlooking the ocean.
Maps covered almost every available surface.
Not decorative maps.
Used ones.
Edges worn.
Ink markings everywhere.
Routes.
Symbols.
Notes.
Pins.
A massive table occupied the center of the room, bolted into the floor.
Shelves contained books, navigation instruments, bottles, shells, weapons, strange artifacts, and enough stolen jewelry to purchase several houses.
A chandelier made from dark metal and sea glass swung gently overhead.
A huge blue-and-gold rug covered the floor.
One wall displayed swords.
Another displayed maps.
A third—
more swords.
I looked around.
"Compensating?"
Pir followed my gaze.
"For what?"
"The swords."
"No."
She dropped into a chair.
Not properly.
Sideways.
One boot immediately landed on the table.
I stared.
She noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Pir reached toward a bowl.
Took an apple.
Bit directly into it.
Then gestured toward the chair opposite.
"Sit."
"That sounded like an order."
"Please sit."
"Better."
I sat.
Pir chewed.
I waited.
She chewed longer.
"Are you going to explain?"
"Finishing my apple."
"You summoned me."
"Invited."
"You entered my room."
"My ship."
"Pir."
She grinned.
Then tossed the apple core through the open window.
I stared.
"Ocean."
"Yes."
"You just threw garbage into it."
"It's an apple."
"Still rude."
"The fish will eat it."
"Do fish eat apples?"
"One of them probably does."
I was beginning to understand why she had become a pirate.
Rules had clearly failed to take hold during childhood.
Pir leaned forward.
The humor faded.
"Your birthday matters."
"I gathered that from Mother's near panic."
"She knew what you were."
"Jinnblood."
"Yes."
Pir rested her forearms against the table.
"How much did she tell you?"
"Very little."
"Jinn?"
"Magical creatures."
Pir grimaced.
"Offensive."
"I learned yesterday."
"Four days ago."
"Time has been difficult."
Her expression softened.
Right.
Mother.
Pir didn't apologize again.
I appreciated that.
Instead she tapped the table.
"Start simple."
I waited.
"Jinn aren't monsters."
"I didn't say they were."
"Humans do."
She leaned back.
"Now, anyway."
Something changed in her voice.
Not scholarly.
Not ceremonial.
This sounded inherited.
A story told around fires.
On docks.
During storms.
"Before humanity called them monsters, they called them guardians."
Pir looked toward the ocean beyond the windows.
"Before they called them myths, they called them Jinn."
Her fingers tapped once against the table.
"And before the world forgot them—"
Her crimson eyes returned to mine.
"the Jinn went to war."
I said nothing.
Pir stood.
Apparently sitting had become intolerable.
She crossed toward one of the maps.
"There are two worlds."
She tapped Uniyani.
"This one."
Then pointed toward empty parchment beyond the known seas.
"And another."
"Klysium."
Pir looked back.
"So your mother told you something."
"Very little."
"Klysium is where the Jinn come from. Not another continent. Not some island sailors haven't found."
She tapped the map.
"Another realm."
I thought of my dreams.
Purple skies.
Floating mountains.
Rivers moving upward.
My skin prickled.
"I've seen it."
Pir stopped.
"What?"
"In dreams."
Her stare sharpened.
"Since when?"
"Years."
"Years?"
"Not clearly."
Pir muttered something unpleasant.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"People keep doing that."
"You'll survive."
"Debatable."
She returned to the table.
"The Jinn weren't one people. Still aren't."
She began counting against scarred fingers.
"Amalaq. Rhazeth. Mazharb. Zafirah. Narath. Tahlryn. Zhalar. Ilmar."
A pause.
"Shathyr."
Her expression changed slightly.
"Ghouls."
Then—
"Yfryths."
That one sounded different.
Harder.
I remembered Mother's stories.
"Different kinds of Jinn."
"Species."
"Families?"
"No."
Pir shook her head.
"That's important. Jinn don't work like human bloodlines. Magic made them. One might crawl out of a storm. Another wakes beneath a mountain. Another simply appears because magic somewhere became powerful enough to start thinking."
That was—
a lot.
"So two Mazharb aren't necessarily related."
"Exactly."
"And a Jinn's Qarin isn't necessarily descended from the same species."
Pir pointed at me.
"Exactly."
I frowned.
"I thought—"
"Most people do."
She dropped into the chair again.
"My father is Mazharb."
I stared.
Pir smiled.
There was something proud in it.
"The enormous water Jinn."
"I remember."
"Good."
"Your father is a Jinn?"
"Full Jinn."
"And your mother?"
"Human."
"His Qarin."
Pir nodded.
"But my mother's Jinnblood didn't come from Mazharb."
"What did it come from?"
Something shuttered behind her eyes.
Fast.
Interesting.
"I don't know."
Lie.
Not entirely.
But enough.
I didn't push.
Not yet.
Pir noticed that I noticed.
Neither of us commented.
"So Qarins can be anything?"
"The human can carry any Jinn ancestry. Mazharb might find a Qarin descended from an Ilmar. A Narath might find someone with Zhalar blood. An Amalaq could bond with a human descended from something completely different."
"And nobody thinks that's strange?"
"Why would they?"
I considered humanity.
"People find reasons."
"Jinn do too."
Pir shrugged.
"Just different stupid reasons."
Fair.
She stood again.
Apparently chairs offended her.
"My father was born in Klysium."
"How old is he?"
Pir smiled.
"No idea."
"How do you not know?"
"He stopped counting."
"At what age?"
"Also no idea."
I stared.
"Helpful family."
"Extremely."
Pir walked toward the windows.
"The Mazharb belong to water. Oceans mostly. They're huge in their true forms."
"How huge?"
Pir considered.
"Ship."
I waited.
"That's not a measurement."
"It is when your father can pick one up."
I looked toward the ceiling.
Then the ocean.
Then Pir.
"Your father can pick up this ship?"
"This one?"
Pir looked thoughtful.
"Probably."
Probably.
Wonderful.
"They control water?"
Pir's grin appeared.
"Control is a polite word."
Outside, a wave struck the hull.
"My father once moved a river because it irritated him."
I stared.
"Where?"
"About twelve miles east."
"That's not what I meant."
"I know."
I sighed.
Pir laughed.
"The ocean called to me growing up."
Her expression softened.
"I thought that was his blood in me."
"Wasn't it?"
"Maybe partly."
She shrugged.
"I could swim before I could properly walk. Storms never frightened me. Couldn't sleep properly unless I heard water somewhere."
That—
I understood.
"Plants."
Pir looked at me.
"For me."
I rubbed my thumb against my fingers.
"I always knew when something was wrong with them."
Not merely plants.
Living things.
But that distinction still felt too strange to say aloud.
"Even before I understood it."
Pir nodded.
"Exactly."
"The sea feels like that to you."
"Always has."
Her smile became crooked.
"Mother used to say I crawled toward the ocean before I crawled toward her."
"That seems rude."
"She took it personally."
I almost smiled.
Pir saw.
Didn't comment.
Good.
"How did they meet?"
Pir went quiet.
The humor disappeared.
"My mother was twenty."
My stomach tightened.
Twenty.
"She was a runaway."
Pir looked down at her hands.
"From what?"
"She never told me everything."
There it was again.
More to Pir's family than she was offering.
"Only that she'd run until she had nowhere left to run."
Pir's thumb rubbed over one of her rings.
"Then she stole a little fishing boat."
The room became very quiet.
"She sailed until she couldn't see land."
I knew where this was going before Pir said it.
My chest tightened.
"She brought an axe."
Pir's voice remained steady.
"Started breaking the bottom of the boat."
One strike.
Another.
Another.
"Water came through."
Pir stared through the windows.
"She sat down and waited."
I didn't speak.
"The boat sank."
A long pause.
"My father found her four minutes after she stopped breathing."
My throat tightened.
"Four minutes?"
Pir nodded.
"He felt her."
"Qarin."
"Qarin."
She swallowed.
"He found wreckage first."
Her voice became quieter.
"Then her."
I imagined it.
Dark ocean.
Broken wood.
A woman sinking.
A creature large enough to dwarf ships moving through black water.
"My father pulled her from the sea."
Pir's eyes had gone distant.
"He could feel water inside her lungs."
Her fingers curled.
"He dragged it out."
I frowned.
"With magic?"
"Every drop he could."
Pir touched her own chest.
"Then he made himself smaller."
Human-sized.
Careful.
"For her."
Her voice changed.
"He put her on what remained of the boat. Tilted her head back. Breathed air into her."
My own breath caught.
"Nothing happened."
Pir pressed two fingers against the table.
"He pushed against her chest."
Once.
Again.
Again.
"Hard enough to make her body remember what it was supposed to do."
Another breath.
"Then air."
Again.
"Chest."
Again.
"Air."
Pir smiled faintly.
"Father said he was screaming at her by then."
"What?"
"Mostly threats."
Despite everything—
I almost laughed.
"What kind of threats?"
"'If you die after making me cross an entire realm to find you, I will follow you into death and kill you myself.'"
A laugh escaped me.
Small.
Unexpected.
Pir smiled.
"He was emotional."
"Apparently."
"Then Mother coughed."
Pir's smile disappeared.
"Water came out."
She touched her chest again.
"She breathed."
I swallowed.
"She survived."
"Technically."
Pir grimaced.
"She was terribly sick afterward. Fever. Infection. Could barely breathe."
"Salt water in the lungs."
Pir nodded.
"Father found an island."
Something in her expression changed.
Home.
"He carried her there."
"Carried?"
"You keep forgetting the ship-sized part."
"Right."
"He stayed."
"How long?"
"Months."
"Months?"
"Mother wasn't particularly cooperative."
"She had just tried to die."
"Exactly."
Pir looked toward me.
"He didn't understand humans very well."
That sounded dangerous.
"What did he do?"
"Fed her."
A finger.
"Kept her warm."
Another.
"Made sure she drank."
Another.
"Stopped her leaving whenever she was too weak to walk ten feet."
Pir smiled.
"Got insulted constantly."
"Romantic."
"It became romantic eventually."
"Eventually?"
"Very eventually."
Good.
Important distinction.
"He didn't expect her to love him because she was his Qarin?"
Pir's expression sharpened.
"No."
Immediate.
"Qarin doesn't mean ownership."
Something inside me eased.
Pir continued.
"It doesn't even guarantee romance. Counterpart. Equal. Companion. The person whose soul resonates with yours."
She shrugged.
"Sometimes they fall in love."
"Your parents did."
"Eventually."
"How eventually?"
"Long enough that my father learned approximately four hundred human insults."
I laughed.
Actually laughed.
The sound surprised me.
Pir smiled.
"Then they made me."
"Very poetic."
"I thought so."
"And this island?"
Pir's expression brightened.
"That's where we're going."
"What?"
"You need rest."
"I'm fine."
"You've spent four days vomiting and crying in your sleep."
I went still.
Pir's expression immediately changed.
She didn't apologize.
Didn't pity me.
Just continued.
"The island is safe. Nobody knows it exists except my family and a few people I trust."
"Why stop?"
"Because Riedana isn't going anywhere."
Pir's tone hardened.
"And you're in no condition to walk into whatever is waiting there."
"Nayira."
"Your grandmother."
"Possibly."
"Exactly."
She folded her arms.
"Eat. Sleep somewhere that isn't moving. Stop looking like death stole your lunch."
"That's oddly specific."
"I've met Death."
I stared.
Pir paused.
"Oh."
"What?"
"I hadn't gotten there yet."
"Gotten where?"
Pir sighed.
"History."
Wonderful.
She dropped into the chair again.
"Long before humans started rubbing lamps and embarrassing themselves, Jinn walked openly through Uniyani."
"Lamps?"
"Don't."
Pir pointed at me.
"Never joke about lamps around a Jinn."
"I wasn't going to."
"Good."
"Why?"
"Because some Jinn were actually imprisoned inside them."
Oh.
"Right."
"Humans remember fragments."
Pir leaned back.
"Jinn used to advise kings. Protect villages. Marry humans. Fight in mortal wars. Get drunk in taverns. Start fights in marketplaces."
"Guardians."
"Sometimes."
Her mouth twisted.
"Sometimes enormous pains in the ass."
"More believable."
"Then came the Yfryths."
The room changed.
Or perhaps Pir did.
"The hellfire Jinn."
I nodded.
"They believed the Qarin bond made Jinn weak."
"Because they loved humans."
"Because they loved anyone."
Pir's jaw tightened.
"Yfryths believed power existed to dominate."
She tapped the table.
"People."
Another tap.
"Land."
Another.
"Jinn."
Another.
"Qarins."
Her eyes hardened.
"Some enslaved their own."
I felt sick.
"Some killed them."
Pir continued.
"Some split them."
"What?"
"Body. Soul. Magic."
Her voice had gone flat.
"What survived became the Snas."
I remembered the word.
Mother had once muttered it while feverish.
I hadn't known what it meant.
"Half-creatures."
Pir nodded.
"Half a face. Half a body. One arm. One leg."
Her jaw tightened.
"Still alive."
God.
"That started the war?"
"It helped."
Pir's laugh contained no humor.
"Then the Yfryths came into Uniyani and decided humanity would look better kneeling."
Kingdoms burned.
Pir didn't describe every battle.
She didn't need to.
She told me about hellfire.
Fire capable of consuming Jinn completely.
About human kingdoms falling.
About knights who rebelled.
About what happened when they lost.
Pir stopped pacing.
"The Yfryths skinned them."
My stomach turned.
"Alive."
No.
"The horses too."
"Pir—"
"They kept them alive with magic."
Her voice was merciless now.
Not because she enjoyed telling me.
Because she believed I needed to know.
"Then fused them together."
I stared.
"Human and horse."
Bone.
Muscle.
Agony.
"The Ilitriun."
I whispered the name.
Pir nodded.
"The Skinless Army."
My stomach rolled.
Not seasickness.
Something worse.
"They made them go home."
I didn't want the rest.
Pir gave it anyway.
"They remembered their families."
No.
"Their bodies simply didn't obey them."
My hands became cold.
"The Yfryths made them kill everyone they'd fought to protect."
Silence.
"After that, nobody could pretend the war belonged to someone else."
Pir began counting again.
"Rhazeth opened their vaults."
"Treasure guardians."
"And weapons."
"Mazharb?"
"Most stayed neutral at first."
Pir's mouth tightened.
"My father's people aren't proud of that part."
Interesting.
"Their oceans were untouched. Their territories safe. Many decided land problems belonged to land."
"But some fought."
"The ones with Qarins here."
Of course.
"They couldn't watch Uniyani burn while the people they loved were inside it."
Pir looked toward the sea.
"They drowned Yfryth strongholds."
Her eyes flicked toward me.
"Entire armies."
I suddenly understood why people feared Mazharb.
"Narath burned corruption from battlefields. Zafirah carried messages and guided the dead. Ilmar fought hellfire with light. Zhalar killed commanders from shadows. Tahlryn went into enemy minds."
"And the Amalaq?"
Pir looked at my eyes.
"Law."
One word.
Heavy.
"Balance."
My grandmother.
Nayira.
"And the Ghouls."
Pir became quiet.
I remembered.
"They were made."
Her gaze sharpened.
"Who told you that?"
"Mother."
"What else?"
"Yfryths tortured Jinn. Corrupted them. Changed them until they barely resembled what they'd been."
Pir nodded.
"The Yfryths called them monsters."
"The prisoners took the name."
"Ghouls."
I thought of the story.
"Their leader was Vam."
Pir smiled.
Not casually.
Respectfully.
"Lady Vam."
"The Jinn of Death."
"Yes."
"She killed Hashtar."
Pir's smile widened.
"One of the greatest Yfryth generals who ever lived."
I stared.
"You've met her."
Pir's grin became positively obnoxious.
"Several times."
"What is she like?"
"Terrifying."
"Helpful."
"Beautiful."
"Still unhelpful."
"Funny when she doesn't mean to be."
"Pir."
"She threatened to remove my spine once."
I stared.
"Were you afraid?"
"Obviously."
"You don't look afraid telling it."
"She didn't remove it."
Pir shrugged.
"Successful interaction."
I rubbed my forehead.
"Why did you meet the Jinn of Death?"
That killed the humor.
Pir looked toward the maps.
"Because she sent me here."
The hairs along my arms rose.
"Why?"
Pir stood.
Walked toward a cabinet.
Unlocked it.
Inside was a map.
Old.
Very old.
Older than the others.
She spread it across the table.
Most of the markings meant nothing to me.
Several regions had names I didn't recognize.
Some no longer existed on modern maps.
Near one edge—
someone had drawn a black circle.
"After the First War, the Yfryths weren't destroyed."
"Imprisoned."
"Along with surviving Snas and Ilitriun."
"Where?"
Pir tapped the map.
"That's the problem."
Nothing was beneath her finger.
No name.
No mark.
"You don't know."
"Nobody seems to."
"I thought the Jinn imprisoned them."
"They did."
"Then ask them."
Pir gave me a look.
"History survives badly, even when immortals are involved."
Fair.
"Records were destroyed. Kingdoms disappeared. Geography changed. Some information was deliberately hidden."
"Why?"
"Because writing Ancient Hellfire Prison Containing Civilization-Destroying Monsters on a public map seemed unwise."
"Reasonable."
"The Rhazeth know more."
"The treasure Jinn."
"Guardians of relics and knowledge."
"And the prison."
"Some of its greatest guardians."
Pir tapped the map again.
"But something has changed."
My stomach tightened.
"The Azalym."
Pir's crimson eyes met mine.
"Yes."
Descendants of Yfryth-human unions.
Darkness.
"They're searching for the prison."
"To release them?"
"That's what Vam believes."
"And you?"
"I don't sail halfway across Uniyani because I enjoy vague warnings."
"You are a pirate."
"I enjoy profitable vague warnings."
Despite myself—
I smiled.
Pir continued.
"Vam believes the Yfryths will return within our lifetime."
"Our lifetime could become extremely long."
"Exactly."
That wasn't comforting.
"She told me something else."
"What?"
"Seven."
My skin prickled.
"Seven what?"
"Seven Jinnbloods."
I stared.
"Born within the same turning of the prophecy."
"What prophecy?"
"The kind that refuses to explain itself clearly."
"Naturally."
"Seven humans whose dormant blood will awaken."
Pir's voice lowered.
"And seven Jinn who will rise with them."
My stomach became very still.
One man.
A voice.
Ticking.
Finally.
"No."
Pir watched me.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Dama."
"I said nothing."
"Your face said considerably more."
I looked away.
Pir didn't push.
Yet.
"Vam thinks the seven are connected to the coming war."
"And you think I'm one."
Pir didn't answer immediately.
That was answer enough.
"Why?"
"Silver eyes."
"Many people probably have silver eyes."
"Not like yours."
I hated that.
"The plants."
I looked toward the little sprig still tucked into my satchel.
"Your blood awakening."
"I made a flower bloom before twenty."
"Awakening begins before twenty."
Right.
"The dreams."
My heart tightened.
"And your birthday."
Pir leaned closer.
"You turned twenty three days ago."
My fingers went cold.
"So?"
"So somewhere in Klysium—"
Pir's voice became quieter.
"your Jinn is now permitted to come looking for you."
Silence.
The ship creaked around us.
I heard waves against the hull.
My heart.
Nothing else.
"Permitted?"
"Klysium has laws."
"Of course it does."
"Jinn cannot cross into Uniyani searching for their Qarin before the human reaches twenty."
"Even if they know where they are?"
"Even then."
"Even if they're in danger?"
Pir's expression tightened.
"Even then."
I thought of Mother.
Tomorrow you turn twenty.
Her fear.
The pendant.
The voice.
Finally.
My breath caught.
"He knew."
Pir went still.
"Who?"
"The man."
"What man?"
"My dreams."
Pir slowly lowered herself into the chair.
"You hear him?"
"Sometimes."
"Since when?"
"Years."
"Clearly?"
"No."
"What does he say?"
"Not much."
"Anything recently?"
The room felt smaller.
"The pendant."
"What pendant?"
"My grandmother's."
"Nayira's?"
I nodded.
"The first time I touched it properly, everything stopped."
Pir's face emptied.
"What stopped?"
"Everything."
"Dama."
"The curtains. Dust. A bird outside. Mother."
Pir wasn't moving.
"Sound disappeared."
Her crimson eyes had gone very sharp.
"Then I heard ticking."
Pir whispered something.
"What?"
"Continue."
"And he said..."
I swallowed.
"'Finally.'"
Pir stared at me.
For several seconds—
nothing.
Then she leaned back.
"Well."
I hated that word.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Pir."
"Still putting things together."
"Put them together aloud."
"Not until I'm certain."
I glared.
She smiled.
"You're frightening when annoyed."
"I own poison."
"Yes."
"Several."
"I smelled them."
"Stop doing that."
"Can't."
I folded my arms.
"So somewhere in Klysium, some Jinn felt me turn twenty."
"Almost certainly."
"And can now cross."
"Yes."
"Do I know what species he is?"
"No."
"Does he know what species my blood comes from?"
"Maybe."
"Does that tell us what he is?"
"No."
Pir pointed at me.
"Remember what I said. Qarins don't match species. Your Jinn could be Mazharb even if your blood is Amalaq. Ilmar. Narath. Zhalar. Anything."
"Nayira was Amalaq."
Pir froze.
I froze.
Oops.
"You know that?"
"Mother told me."
"When?"
"Before she died."
Pir's expression changed.
"Nayira was full Amalaq?"
"Yes."
"And your grandfather?"
"Jinnblood. Alnohr descent."
Pir stared at me.
Long enough to become rude.
"What?"
"That is an unpleasant amount of magic in one person."
"Thank you?"
"Not a compliment."
"People keep doing that."
Pir opened her mouth—
then stopped.
The ship tilted.
Not dramatically.
Just enough that one hanging lantern shifted.
Pir's head turned.
I barely noticed.
"So Vam has been searching for her Qarin too?"
Pir continued listening to something beyond the cabin.
"Five years."
"Five?"
"Feeling the bond doesn't provide an address."
"Destiny lacks directions."
"Exactly."
Pir stood.
"She's been searching while investigating signs of the Yfryths."
"And she thinks they're coming for Jinnbloods."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Pir finally looked at me.
"Because Jinnbloods are leverage."
My stomach tightened.
"Against their Jinn."
"A Qarin is one of the strongest bonds a Jinn can possess."
Pir's expression became grim.
"The Yfryths learned that during the First War."
"Take the Qarin."
"Control the Jinn."
"Or break them."
"Exactly."
The ship tilted again.
Harder.
A glass slid across the table.
Pir caught it without looking.
I frowned.
"Is that normal?"
"No."
That was not the answer I wanted.
A bell rang above deck.
Once.
Twice.
Then—
three rapid strikes.
Pir's entire body changed.
The pirate disappeared.
Captain.
She moved toward the door.
"What does that mean?"
"Storm."
Another bell.
Pir stopped.
Listened.
Her face hardened.
"No."
"What?"
The ship lurched.
Violently.
The chair beside me overturned.
I grabbed the table.
Outside—
someone screamed:
"CAPTAIN!"
Pir ripped open the door.
Wind exploded into the cabin.
Not wind.
A wall.
Maps tore from the walls.
The chandelier swung sideways.
Rain blasted through the doorway.
Pir grabbed the frame.
"ALL HANDS!"
The ship dropped.
My stomach remained somewhere above us.
Then the hull slammed down.
BOOM.
Wood screamed.
I hit the floor.
Pir caught my arm.
"Move!"
We ran.
The world outside had disappeared.
The sky was black.
Not dark.
Black.
Clouds twisted overhead in enormous rotating walls.
Lightning ripped through them.
White.
Blue.
Violet.
Rain fell sideways hard enough to hurt.
The ocean—
God.
The ocean had become mountains.
Waves rose higher than the ship.
Higher than the masts.
The grand vessel that had seemed enormous minutes earlier suddenly looked tiny.
Fragile.
A toy beneath something ancient and furious.
Sailors ran across the deck.
"REEF THE MAIN!"
"LINE!"
"GET THAT LINE!"
"PORT!"
Pir shoved me toward the stairs leading below.
"Cabin."
"No."
Her head snapped toward me.
"Excuse me?"
"I'm not going below while the ship sinks."
"That is precisely where you're going."
"Why?"
"So I only have one disaster to manage."
Lightning struck the sea.
BOOM.
I flinched.
A wave crashed across the deck.
Water slammed into us.
Pir grabbed the railing with one hand—
and me with the other.
My feet left the deck.
For one terrifying second—
there was nothing beneath me.
Then Pir hauled me back.
"BELOW!"
Fine.
Perhaps she had a point.
Then someone screamed.
A sailor had fallen.
He slid across the deck toward the rail.
I moved.
"Dama!"
Too late.
I caught his wrist.
His weight nearly pulled me down.
Pir caught my belt.
"Got him!"
Together—
we dragged him back.
Another wave rose.
Pir looked up.
Her face changed.
"Hold on."
The wave struck.
Everything became water.
Cold.
Violent.
Impossible.
My hands lost the deck.
Something hit my shoulder.
I spun.
Could not breathe.
Could not see.
Then—
air.
I surfaced against the railing.
Coughed.
The mast groaned overhead.
A crack split through the storm.
Not thunder.
Wood.
Pir looked up.
"DOWN!"
The upper section of the mast snapped.
Sailors scattered.
It crashed across the deck.
Ropes whipped loose.
One struck a man hard enough to throw him sideways.
The ship tilted.
Too far.
Pir swore.
"What?"
"We're losing her."
My blood went cold.
"What does that mean?"
"It means start considering whichever god you dislike least."
"Pir!"
She ran toward the wheel.
I followed because apparently survival instinct had abandoned me entirely.
The helmsman fought it.
Pir shoved beside him.
"WITH ME!"
Together they turned.
Nothing.
The wheel jerked back.
The ocean refused.
A wave appeared through the rain.
I stared.
No.
That wasn't a wave.
That was a wall.
It rose.
And rose.
And rose.
Higher than the mast.
Higher than anything water had a right to become.
Pir stopped fighting the wheel.
Every sailor on deck looked up.
Nobody shouted.
There was nothing left to shout.
The wave began curling over us.
Pir whispered—
"Dad."
The ocean stopped.
I blinked.
The wave hung above the ship.
Millions of tons of water.
Suspended.
Rain froze around it.
Not time.
Water.
Every drop trembled.
Then—
the wave split.
Straight down the center.
Water peeled away from us.
Left.
Right.
An enormous corridor opened through the sea.
The ship dropped into calm water.
Silence.
Not true silence.
Rain still fell.
Thunder still rolled.
But the ocean around us—
calmed.
A circle of perfectly smooth water expanded outward.
One hundred feet.
Two hundred.
Five hundred.
The hurricane raged beyond it.
Inside—
nothing.
Then something moved beneath us.
Something enormous.
I stepped toward the rail.
Pir grabbed my shoulder.
"Don't fall."
"What is that?"
A shadow passed beneath the ship.
Longer than the hull.
Much longer.
The water began glowing.
Blue.
Deep beneath us—
two eyes opened.
I stopped breathing.
They were enormous.
Bright turquoise surrounded by darkness.
One sailor whispered a prayer.
Another bowed.
Pir rolled her eyes.
"He's going to love that."
The shadow rose.
Water lifted.
Not splashed.
Lifted.
Like the sea itself had decided to stand.
A head emerged.
Then shoulders.
Then—
more.
And more.
And more.
My neck hurt from looking upward.
The creature rising from the ocean was humanoid.
Technically.
In the same way a mountain was technically a rock.
Midnight-blue skin gleamed beneath the rain.
Silver-green patterns glowed across his chest and shoulders like living constellations beneath deep water.
Long black hair flowed around him despite the wind, moving as though he remained submerged.
Fin-like ridges swept back from pointed ears.
His eyes burned turquoise.
One hand emerged beside the ship.
The palm alone was large enough to hold several people.
I stared.
Pir cupped both hands around her mouth.
"YOU'RE LATE!"
I slowly turned toward her.
What.
The Mazharb looked down.
His voice rolled across the ocean like distant thunder.
"I was asleep."
Pir threw both arms outward.
"WE ALMOST DIED!"
"You did not."
"The mast broke!"
"I noticed."
"Very observant!"
The enormous Jinn's eyes narrowed.
The hurricane beyond our calm circle weakened.
Just slightly.
Pir pointed upward.
"Don't mood at me!"
I stared at her.
"Don't what?"
"He's sensitive."
Thunder exploded.
Pir looked toward the sky.
"SEE?"
The Mazharb sighed.
The sound created ripples across the sea.
Then his gaze moved.
To me.
Everything changed.
Those enormous glowing eyes narrowed.
Not aggressively.
Curiously.
He leaned closer.
The entire crew collectively stepped backward.
I did too.
Pir didn't.
"Dad."
His attention returned to her.
"This is Dama."
His eyes moved back to me.
I raised one hand.
"Hello."
What else did one say to a ship-sized Jinn?
His nostrils flared.
Once.
Then again.
The water surrounding the vessel rippled.
His expression changed.
"Daughter."
Pir winced.
"Yes."
"What?"
"Don't."
"What is she?"
I frowned.
Pir rubbed her face.
"Subtle as ever."
The Mazharb ignored her.
His enormous gaze remained on me.
"Her blood is awake."
My skin prickled.
"Yes."
"Strong."
Pir folded her arms.
"We noticed."
His eyes narrowed further.
"Amalaq."
I stopped.
Pir did too.
"Partly," she said.
The Mazharb became still.
Then—
something almost like amusement moved across his enormous face.
"Interesting."
I closed my eyes.
"No."
Pir looked at me.
"What?"
"Absolutely not."
Her father tilted his head.
"What did I say?"
"She has developed an aversion to interesting."
"Understandable."
I opened my eyes.
I liked him slightly.
Dangerous.
Pir pointed toward the distant storm.
"Can you fix that?"
The Mazharb looked toward it.
"Yes."
"Please."
He lifted one hand.
That was all.
The ocean obeyed.
The hurricane collapsed.
Not slowly.
Not naturally.
The rotating clouds tore apart.
Waves flattened.
Rain softened.
Wind died.
Within moments—
moonlight appeared between broken clouds.
I stared.
No one spoke.
The Mazharb lowered his hand.
"Done."
Pir nodded.
"Thank you."
His expression softened immediately.
There.
I saw it.
The terrifying thing sailors would call a monster—
looking at his daughter.
Not Qarin.
Daughter.
But love changed him anyway.
His eyes warmed.
His shoulders relaxed.
The ocean around us became gentle.
Pir pointed toward the broken mast.
"Could you also—"
"No."
"Dad."
"You own tools."
"You're holding the ocean."
"And you own tools."
Pir muttered something.
His mouth twitched.
Definitely her father.
Then his body began changing.
Shrinking.
Water spiraled around him.
The colossal shoulders descended.
The enormous head became smaller.
Smaller.
Smaller.
Until a man stood upon the surface of the ocean.
Still extremely tall.
Perhaps seven feet.
Maybe more.
But no longer capable of using our ship as a serving tray.
He stepped onto the water.
Then onto the ship.
Barefoot.
Pir walked toward him.
He looked her over.
Head.
Arms.
Hands.
Face.
Searching for injury.
"I'm fine."
He touched the scar on her face anyway.
Old injury.
Pir tolerated it.
Barely.
Then he pulled her into an enormous hug.
Pir disappeared against his chest.
"Dad."
"You nearly drowned."
"I've nearly drowned before."
"That is not comforting."
"You raised me near an ocean."
"A mistake, apparently."
Pir pushed away.
I stared.
This creature had just dismantled a hurricane.
Pir slapped his arm.
"You scared the crew."
"They are pirates."
"So am I."
"Yes."
His expression suggested this remained a personal disappointment.
Pir grinned.
Then looked toward me.
"Dama."
I straightened.
"My father."
The Mazharb regarded me.
I regarded him.
"Does he have a name?"
Pir opened her mouth.
Her father answered first.
"Yes."
I waited.
He waited.
"Are you going to tell me?"
"No."
Pir burst out laughing.
I stared at him.
His expression remained completely serious.
Then the corner of his mouth moved.
Oh.
I understood.
"You did that deliberately."
"Yes."
"Wonderful."
Pir slapped his shoulder.
"Stop terrorizing my passenger."
"Stowaway."
"Former stowaway."
I looked between them.
"You've discussed me?"
Pir's father glanced toward her.
"She talks too much."
"Traitor."
He looked back at me.
"You are going to the island."
Apparently everyone knew my travel plans except me.
"Yes."
"Good."
"Why?"
"You need land."
"I've gathered."
"And food."
"I eat."
Pir made a sound.
I glared.
Her father continued.
"Sleep."
"I sleep."
Pir made another sound.
"Would you like to return to the hurricane?"
She smiled.
"No."
The Mazharb's gaze settled on me again.
Not invasive.
Assessing.
Old.
Very old.
Then he said quietly—
"You have been grieving while the sea carried you."
My chest tightened.
Pir stopped smiling.
I looked away.
The ocean moved gently against the hull.
"Yes."
He didn't say sorry.
Thank every god available.
Instead he looked toward the horizon.
"The island is quiet."
Something about his voice softened.
"My Qarin healed there once."
Pir's mother.
"It remembers gentleness."
My throat tightened.
I nodded.
"Thank you."
He inclined his head.
Then looked toward Pir.
"Three days."
"Two."
"Three."
"Two."
"You need repairs."
Pir looked toward the broken mast.
"Two and a half."
"Three."
She sighed.
"Fine."
Her father smiled.
Pir turned toward the crew.
"YOU HEARD THE ANNOYING GIANT! GET THE DAMAGE ASSESSED!"
Sailors immediately moved.
The Mazharb stared at his daughter.
"Annoying giant?"
"Term of affection."
"I dislike it."
"You'll recover."
I watched them.
Pir shouting.
Her father correcting sailors who clearly had no idea how to behave around an ancient sea Jinn.
The crew laughing now that death had apparently postponed our appointment.
And for the first time since Mother's death—
something inside my chest loosened.
Not healed.
Nothing was healed.
Grief remained.
It probably always would.
But beneath it—
something else existed.
A direction.
Riedana.
Nayira.
Klysium.
The Yfryths.
Seven Jinnbloods.
A coming war.
And somewhere beyond a veil I couldn't see—
a Jinn who had spent twenty years waiting for me to become old enough for the laws of his world to let him cross.
I had turned twenty without noticing.
Apparently destiny hadn't cared whether I was ready.
Typical.
Pir appeared beside me.
She leaned both elbows against the railing.
For several moments—
neither of us spoke.
Then I asked:
"Do you think I'm one of the seven?"
Pir looked toward the dark horizon.
"Yes."
No hesitation.
I swallowed.
"And you?"
She smiled.
That crooked, scar-pulled smile.
"That's a considerably longer story."
I looked at her.
There it was again.
Her mother.
Her unknown Jinnblood.
Vam.
The mission.
Pir knew more than she was saying.
Fine.
I understood secrets.
I had been raised by one.
"When are you telling me?"
"When I trust you."
Fair.
"And when will that be?"
Pir shrugged.
"Maybe tomorrow."
I waited.
"Maybe ten years."
"Pir."
She laughed.
Then her expression became serious.
"A war is coming, Dama."
The words disappeared into the sea wind.
"The First War nearly destroyed both worlds."
I thought about the Snas.
The Ilitriun.
Hellfire.
Humans slaughtering their own families from inside bodies they couldn't control.
Pir's crimson eyes found mine.
"If Vam is right, the Yfryths aren't going to repeat the same war."
"No?"
"They lost that one."
A chill moved through me.
"They'll change tactics."
"How?"
Pir looked at me.
At my silver eyes.
At the blood neither of us fully understood.
"Us."
My stomach tightened.
"Jinnbloods."
"Qarins."
The word felt heavier now.
"They'll wait for the seven Jinn to find us."
My mouth went dry.
"Why?"
Pir's expression hardened.
"Because a Jinn will destroy armies for their Qarin."
The sea moved beneath us.
"And if you want to control something powerful enough to destroy armies..."
I understood.
"You don't attack the Jinn."
Pir shook her head.
"You take the person they would destroy the world to get back."
Silence.
A war was coming.
Not today.
Maybe not tomorrow.
But somewhere beneath Uniyani—
hellfire was still burning.
Somewhere in Klysium—
seven Jinn were beginning to move.
And somewhere behind me—
Pir's father was arguing with three pirates about whether repairing a mast by controlling the moisture inside the wood counted as cheating.
"It absolutely counts!" Pir shouted.
Her father looked offended.
"I am helping."
"You're showing off!"
"I am Mazharb."
"THOSE ARE NOT THE SAME THING!"
I stared at them.
Then—
despite myself—
laughed.
Mother should have been here.
That thought still hurt.
It would probably hurt tomorrow.
And the day after.
And perhaps a thousand years from now, if everything Pir had told me about Jinnblood was true.
But Mother had told me to find Riedana.
Find Nayira.
Find the man from my dreams.
So I would.
One impossible thing at a time.
First—
the island.
Then Riedana.
Then my grandmother.
Then Klysium.
Then perhaps the mysterious Jinn who had apparently been waiting twenty years for me while failing to provide so much as a name.
I looked toward the dark horizon.
"You're terrible at directions," I murmured.
Pir glanced over.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Far ahead—
beyond the moonlit water—
an island waited.
And somewhere much farther away—
beyond oceans,
beyond stars,
beyond the veil between worlds—
someone had felt the exact moment I turned twenty.
I simply hadn't known it yet.