‘Ahmed.’ His name came out more prayer than plea. ‘It’s done.’ The tears were coming hard and fast now, streaking down my face.

Ahmed looked shocked, his hands digging into my arms. ‘But you love him,’ he said softly. ‘You love him, and you should save him. That’s what people do with those they love, Amani – they save them.’

No, it wasn’t. Sam had taught me that. Great love stories ended in death. All stories ended in death sooner or later. Ours was ending sooner.

I could feel grief hammering at me now, like waves against a ship. Like the sandstorm tearing at the walls of the camp. ‘I’m making the choice he would have made.’ The words wouldn’t come any more. ‘The choice we all made. That we would die for you.’

‘Ahmed.’ Jin still couldn’t move, but he found his voice. ‘I would always have died protecting you. You must know that.’

Ahmed’s chest rose and fell like he was trying to catch his breath. He moved over to Jin shakily. He placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘I would’ve died for you, brother. In a heartbeat.’

‘I know,’ Jin said. ‘But you’re not going to.’ And then he embraced him. They gripped each other like they were still young boys, like they could pour every bit of strength and life they had into each other. ‘Go do something worth dying for,’ Jin said, releasing him.

The red-eyed Djinni raised his arms.

I saw the rising panic in Ahmed as he scrambled for everything he wanted to say to his brother. ‘Jin—’ He stepped forward urgently just as the Djinni brought his arms down. And just like that, Ahmed was gone, air rushing in to fill the space where he’d been. Jin’s shoulders sagged, the strength leaving him, everything he’d been holding on to for Ahmed’s sake fleeing him.

His eyes landed on me.

I closed the distance between us, Jin pulling me close to him as soon as I was within reach, until every single part of us was pressed together and I felt whatever strength I had left leave me, too.

‘I’m sorry.’ The words came out a sob into his shirt as he tightened his arms around me. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘I’m sorry, too.’ He spoke into my hair, pressing his mouth close to my ear. ‘I promised to teach you how to swim. I don’t like breaking my promises.’

The laugh that came out of me was short and ugly through the sobs. But I saw Jin smile as he tilted my head back up towards him, his thumbs wiping away the tears. He smiled faintly. I knew what he was thinking. I had some saltwater in my soul after all. ‘You should go,’ he said. You shouldn’t have to watch this.

‘No.’ I’m not going to let you die alone.

He pulled me suddenly, violently forwards. There was no gentleness in that kiss. Nothing but desperation and anger and fear. Knowing it was our last.

‘I love you. I love you. I love you.’ I wasn’t sure which one of us was saying which words. Pressing them hard against each other’s mouths in the last moment we had left. I could feel tears streaming down my face. I could taste blood.

We were ripped apart. Not by hands, but by air. By a power greater than us. And I was staring at him, suddenly dragged far away from me. I watched him through tears. A blade appeared out of nowhere. It wasn’t made of iron, I realised. It was made of sand – a sharpened blade made from the desert itself. The Djinni holding it was Bahadur.

My father gazed at me with ancient, pitiless eyes. ‘You don’t have to watch this, daughter. We can send you far away.’

‘I’m staying,’ I said, never taking my eyes off Jin, trying to drink him in until the very last second. ‘Until the end.’

And then my father plunged the knife through Jin’s stomach, driving it in to the hilt. And I felt my own insides rip open.

Chapter 43

I was bleeding.

It was soaking through my shirt and on to my hands. My fingers were stained bright red. And somehow I’d fallen to my knees.

I realised it all distantly, as if I was in a dream where everything was a little bit less clear.

I wasn’t just imagining the pain. My hands were wet with blood as I pulled them away from my stomach.

I pushed my shirt up hurriedly. There was a slice in my side exactly where the knife had gone into Jin. Exactly where my scar from the bullet in Iliaz was. Like an old wound torn open. Except this one was brand new.

The Djinn were looking down at us curiously. Even after all this time, they seemed unable to tear their eyes away from us. From our pain. Our anguish. All the experiences they hadn’t known before we brought them into the world.

‘You married him,’ one of the Djinn said matter-of-factly.

No.

Except the denial wouldn’t come.

All that I am I give to you, and all that I have is yours.

We had never knelt side by side in front of fires with my face covered, but we had said the words. Not in front of a Holy Father, but last night, tangled up in

Jin’s tent.

Until the day we die.

It was the words that mattered. I had tied our lives together when I said those words. When I made them truth. And I’d knotted our deaths, too.

‘Your daughters tend to lose their hearts very easily, Bahadur.’ One of the Djinn spoke to my father, a hint of mockery in his voice. ‘And their lives with them.’