She felt bolted to the ground.
“Alizeh?” said Cyrus urgently. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”
“You can’t hear that,” she managed to whisper, her heart pounding furiously in her chest. “Can you?”
“Hear what?”
The woman in the street was still screaming, sobbing hysterically and shrieking.
“Alizeh?”
“Cyrus.” She was breathing hard, and reached for his arm without looking, clenching a fistful of his shirtsleeve. “Why didn’t you tell me that Jinn in Tulan were allowed to use their strengths openly?”
“You”—he looked down, confused, at her death grip—“you never asked. And we’ve had a number of other things to...”
Cyrus inhaled sharply.
His eyes went wide as—Alizeh could only imagine—the screaming girl came suddenly into view. The young woman had likely lost control of her invisibility in the furor, and her screams echoed through the avenue now, as people of all kinds came running from every direction. They tried to help the girl up, but she wouldn’t be moved. She shook off their assistance, alternately pointing at Alizeh and dragging her hands down her face.
Alizeh could feel Cyrus panic.
“Let’s go,” he said, “right now—”
“No— I can’t— I can’t just leave her—”
A crowd was gathering now, eyes following the direction of the young woman’s outstretched finger, and as the shouts and whispers reached a stunning crescendo, the screaming woman broke somehow further, a tortured expression overtaking her face—a mix of something like joy and grief—tears still streaking down her cheeks. She finally managed intelligible speech.
“It’s true,” she cried. “They said you were here— I didn’t believe— But it’s true—”
“Who?” someone else called out. “Who is she?”
“The servant boy from the palace,” a man shouted, “he said—”
“No— It can’t be—”
“Alizeh,” Cyrus said urgently, “I know you asked me not to use magic on you, but please, let me get you out of here—”
“In the Ardunian newspaper, from last night—”
“No, long before that, we’ve been hearing whispers for days—”
“I can’t leave,” Alizeh said desperately, her pulse skyrocketing. “Can I? These people, they’re—they’re my responsibility—”
Cyrus tugged her sharply back as the crowd surged forward, and her hat fell to the ground with a dull thud. There was no time to retrieve it. The mass wasted no time swarming her as one, trying to get a better look.
“Her eyes!”
“And her hair! She wears a crown!”
“It’s just as they said—”
“My wife’s cousin in Setar sent her a letter, swore it was her, said it had to be—”
“Heard she was in hiding all this time—”
“I remember those rumors—nearly twenty years ago—”
“Angels above, I heard it, too, but I didn’t believe—”
