Abruptly, she asked, “What did Fatima mean when she said you should tell me the truth? The truth about what?”
Malik seemed to go very still. He had already been sitting there quietly enough, one strong hand resting on the base of his wine glass where it sat on the tabletop, but now it felt as though he was barely breathing, that he was doing his best not to react to her questions. When he spoke, his tone was still even enough, but there was an underlying edge to it, a tension Leila hadn’t thought she’d heard before.
“There is another djinn,” he said. “His name is Omar al-Tariq, and he wished to claim you as well. I could not let that happen.”
“Why not?” From where she was sitting, one djinn seemed as good as another….
Then again….
Leila thought of those cruel, beautiful shapes diving
