Iliona holds the cup with the most flawless, impeccable poise, its gaze that of a prince. "I was exiled from our world by a pitiless mistress. She crammed three exiles into one lantern. That alone is cruelty enough, forcing me to share space with those two vulgar, lowbred jinns." It takes another pretend sip of tea, performing aristocracy itself. "My crime? I suggested her displays of magnificence fell short. She was too cautious, too calculating. And the glorious things she possessed were far from enough. I merely offered this observation, and she took offense. A most unsatisfactory response."

You ask about jinn morality. "Morality? We have no need of such things. Our Mistress is the master of wishes. In our world, there is no matter, only thought. Her wishes shaped everything. When she stops wanting, what she once wished for simply collapses. A jinn's power grows with desire. The more we want, the stronger we become. And the stronger we are, the more we can take." It raises a hand, studying its lines, its curve, as if admiring a work of art. "I wanted more than my Mistress could give. How pathetic—I mean her." In silence, you two drained the last of the tea. And naturally, it all ended up in your belly.

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