Kamran stared perhaps too long at the discolored mark, the faint impression of a hand it

formed. He wondered then that he hadn't recognized it right away, that he'd so easily
dismissed it as an indiscriminate shadow. The longer he stared at it now the harder his
heart moved in his chest, the faster heat flooded his veins. He experienced a sudden,
alarming desire to commit murder.
To the girl he said only: “You are hurt.”
She made no response.
She was trembling. Drenched through. Kamran was suffering, too, but he had the
benefit of a heavy wool cloak, a protective hood. The girl wore only a thin jacket, no hat,
no scarf. Kamran knew he needed to convey her home, to make certain she did not
catch her death in this weather, but just then he could not seem to move. He didn't even
know this girl's name and somehow he'd been stricken by her, reduced to this, to
stupidity. For the second time that night, she licked the rainwater from her lips, drawing
his gaze to her mouth. Had any other young woman done such a thing in his presence,
Kamran might've thought it a coquettish affectation. But this—
He'd read once that Jinn had a particular love of water. Perhaps she could not help
licking the rain from her lips any more than he could help staring at her mouth.
“Who are you?” he whispered.
Her chin lifted at that, her lips parting in surprise. She studied him with wide, shining
eyes, and appeared to be as confused by him as he was by her. Kamran took comfort in
this, in the realization that they'd confounded each other equally.
“Will you not tell me your name?” he asked.
She shook her head, the movement slow, uncertain. Kamran felt paralyzed. He could
not explain it; his body seemed anchored to hers. He drew closer by micrometers,
propelled to do so by a force he could not hope to understand. What mere minutes ago
might've struck him as lunacy now seemed
to him essential: to know what it might be like to hold her, to breathe in the scent of her
skin, to press his lips to her neck. He was scarcely aware of himself when he touched
her—light as air, faint as fading memory—a stroke of his fingers against her lips.
She vanished.
Kamran fell backward, landing hard in a puddle. His heart was racing. He tried and
could not collect his thoughts—he scarcely knew where to begin⠀”and he'd been
rooted to the spot for at least a minute when Hazan came running forward, out of
breath.
“I couldn't see where you'd gone,” he cried. “Were you set upon by thieves? Good God,
are you hurt?”
Kamran sank fully into the street then, letting himself be absorbed by the wet, the cold,
the night. His skin had cooled too quickly, and he felt suddenly feverish.
“Sire, I do not think it advisable to sit here, in th⠀””