Circle of Jinn by Lori Goldstein

not opening yourself up to magic but you learning how to employ hadi that allowed your memories to return to you all on your own. Father had to use a spell to make mine return to me.”
    But I had traces before I learned to use mind control.
    â€œYou never felt anything before?” I ask. “No thoughts or weird feelings?”
    Zak shakes his head. “Did you?”
    I pause, and my mother draws in a breath. “Azra, why didn’t you tell me?”
    â€œBecause I didn’t know what I was feeling. It only started recently. After my birthday.”
    â€œIt must be the release of your powers that triggered it, then,” Zak says. “That permitted the memories to begin to return to you.”
    My powers that I’ve actually always had. This is the one thing that remains unsaid. My mother doesn’t bring it up and neither do I.
    My father’s mind control left my mother feeling like something was off; it went a step further and left me with ghosts of my past. I hope it has something to do with my unfettered ability to do magic or even my Afrit heritage. Because I’d hate for this to happen to Nate or Megan or George or Goldie. For them to be left with perpetual déjà vu because of me.
    Did I always know, deep down, that something was missing? Is that why I pushed so hard against everything Jinn, including my Zar sisters? The lies my mother told me made me who I am. What if I had known? Would I still be me?
    Like cars on a Ferris wheel, my emotions go round and round. Hurt, anger, shock, joy, longing, fear. Just when I think one car has settled on the ground and off-loaded its passengers, it finds its way back to the tippy top. Right now, feeling left out is riding high.
    I face my mother. “Did you ever want to tell me the truth?”
    â€œEvery morning, every afternoon, and every night,” she says.
    â€œWe could have shared it,” I say.
    Zak pours himself more wine. “She shared everything else with you, Azra. She shared herself, which she didn’t have to do.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” I say. Zak’s lips flatten into a thin line. I ask my mother. “What does he mean?”
    She ignores me and kneels in front of Zak. “Your father told you?”
    Zak takes a swig of wine and nods.
    â€œI’m sorry,” she says softly. “It … it was an impossible choice.”
    I bend down and cram my face so close to my mother’s that our noses touch. “What choice? What are you talking about?”
    My mother swats me away. “The only thing I couldn’t bring myself to put in writing. And don’t think we won’t talk about you using spells and reading my diary, Azra.” Then, with a deep breath, she begins to speak slowly, unable to look directly at me or Zak. “Your father being an Afrit came with some advantages. He and Zak did have to leave here. There was no way around that. But…”
    â€œBut what?” I prod.
    â€œShe could have left too,” Zak says briskly. “She could have left here and lived in Janna with our father and—”
    â€œYou,” I say.
    â€œOr remain in this world with—”
    â€œMe.” Suddenly I feel like I’m two inches tall.
    My mother chose me. Over my brother. Over my father. She chose me. Every time I lashed out at her, blamed her, made her hurt, made her angry, made her cry, did she regret it?
    Though he speaks to me, Zak’s eyes are focused on the glass he has just placed on the table. “Her choice came with lying to you in order to keep you safe. You can’t resent her for that any more than I can resent you for being what made her stay.”
    My mother takes his hands. “But you resent me, don’t you? At least a little?”
    Zak shrugs, but it’s clearly a “yes” shrug. “But I understand. That’s the way it was. That’s the way it still is. And that’s what Father is trying