Nahri could no more explain the way she healed and sensed illness than she could explain how her eyes and ears worked. Her abilities had so long been a part of her that she had simply stopped questioning their existence. It had taken her years as a child—and a number of painful lessons—to even realize how different she was from the people around her, like being the only sighted person in a world of the blind. And her abilities were so natural, so organic, that it was impossible to think of them as anything out of the ordinary.

“So you just live quietly with these powers?” he demanded. “Haven’t you ever wondered why you have them? Suleiman’s eye . . . you could be overthrowing governments, and instead you steal from peasants!”

He hadn’t lived her life, the constant rush of business she had to bring in to keep herself afloat, her bribes paid. There wasn’t time for anything else. All that mattered were the coins in her hand, the only true power she had.

Nahri had spent her entire life trying to blend in with those around her just to survive. Those instincts were warring even now: her thrill at learning what she was and her urge to flee back to the life she’d worked so hard to establish for herself in Cairo.