Page 46 of The Wishless Ones
“Jafar! What are you doing?”
Jafar lifted a brow. “Following you. Did you think I’d know how to get in there?”
The pounding in Rohan’s chest careened from fear into anger—at himself. How could he have been so stupid? Not only had he been usedagain, but he’d done exactly what Jafar had thought he would.
“Now come,” Jafar said.
“Come?” Rohan seethed, his voice so hushed that it sounded like a rat skittering in the dark. “You can’t just take over—”
“I didn’t,” Jafar said. “It’s no one’s fault you’re being predictable, andyou’rethe one who told me about the prisoner. I did nothing but pay heed to what my brother had to say, and now I want to see him. If you don’t want to come, you’re more than welcome to sit this one out. Iago, will you help my brother find his way back?”
“I don’t need your pet’s help,” Rohan snapped. “Let’s just go.”
He stomped ahead of Jafar, still squinting through the shadows. The floor disappeared under his next step and he nearly plummeted down a set of stairs.Gah!This was all Jafar’s fault.I’m behaving just like Baba,Rohan thought,blaming others for the consequences of my own actions.
And yet, he was surprised to find he wasn’t as bothered by that realization as he would have expected to be.
There was a door at the very end of the steps, heavy and black. Rohan knew this because it was ajar, because there was a line of light slipping from its other side, flickering in shades of orange and red. Like the fire that had taken Baba from them. The one Rohan had wished for.
His throat closed, cinching his lungs tight, denying him another exhale.
“Breathe,” Jafar whispered to him kindly, gently. It took everything in Rohan not to step closer to him, back in his shadow, in his protection.
Baba was gone; there was no use blaming himself for it. No point stifling himself with his fear.
Rohan opened the door. More stairs. Shadows grew and folded, dragging a shiver out of him. It was desolate and pitiful, a cold that dug into his bones.
“I was thinking,” Jafar began. He sounded distant and unaffected. “Baba was most horriblewitha soul. Imagine asking a genie to bring him back. Imagine Babawithouta soul.”
A chill crept down Rohan’s spine, freezing into the divots. Was Jafar trying to make him uneasy?
“Hmm?” Jafar asked when Rohan didn’t respond. “Let’s see your prisoner.”
A low keening reverberated through the walls. Rohan shivered. Iago didn’t look too happy to be here, either.
“He isn’tmyprisoner,” Rohan said, glancing back. His voice caught when the keening sounded again. “Maybe this was a bad idea. We probably shouldn’t be here.”
Jafar was utterly unfazed. “I thought about what you said. About combining the spells to make someone speak.”
Rohan took a careful step back, but Jafar didn’t move. His eyes took on a reddish hue, his features still as stone.
“I think we can use that to get the Sultana her secret,” Jafar said.
Whatever happened to wanting to leave the palace? Rohan didn’t know what Jafar was planning, buthewanted to be useful to the Sultana.Hewanted to be the diplomat and question the prisoner.
Not let Jafar do it.
That was Rohan’s gift to give, but Jafar was already squeezing past him, sweeping down the stairs as if he owned the place.
“What for?” Rohan asked
“We could use it to barter, I’m sure,” Jafar answered without breaking stride. It was a guarded response, mired in another secret Jafar was clearly keeping from him.
Rohan stared after him. This was beginning to feel less diplomatic and more reckless. He wanted no part in the cold hollow in Jafar’s voice. Jafar was scaring him, and he was ready to run back to their rooms and burrow back under the covers.
But like any good shadow, Rohan disappeared after his brother.
The walls pressed tight. Rohan stretched his arms, and stone greeted him on either side, rough and damp. His footfalls echoed behind Jafar’s until the stairs spat the three of them out into a large room. Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the dim, greedily seeking out the lone lantern. It cast off the metal bars that formed cell after cell. A forlorn leak squeezed into a tin pail somewhere in the darkness, and that low keening began again, so helpless that Rohan wanted to cover his ears.
