“Stay behind me.” She made her way back into the fight. When she glanced over her shoulder, the prince had disappeared, but he was close enough she could hear his breathing.
Omar was everywhere and nowhere. Sometimes he grinned at her mockingly from a distance. Other times he was in the thick of battle, disappearing moments before his opponents struck him. An illusion, Loulie realized.
She cast a look over her shoulder at the crumbling landscape. Qadir stood in the center of the chaos, tendrils of smoke unrolling from his body as he faced his opponents with his blade. Though he was still burning holes into the sand, the reinforcements were never-ending, and it was clear his strength was waning. Who were these jinn the prince was working with? How had he found them in the first place?
“You look lost, al-Nazari.” Loulie whirled to see Omar standing behind her, a patronizing grin on his lips. “Why not use that compass of yours to find me?” He chuckled at the surprise on her face. “Oh yes, Aisha told me all about your magic.”
Loulie flinched. In all this chaos, she had forgotten about the compass. That she’d left it with Mazen. She nearly cast a look over her shoulder but stopped herself. If Omar was suggesting it, it had to be a trap.
“No? Then try your luck.” The prince raised his hands.
Loulie ran toward him, brandishing the flaming dagger. Just as it had before, Qadir’s blade went right through him. Omar chuckled as she pitched forward. She fell, and when she looked up, there were three of him standing around her in a circle, each with his black knife angled at her.
“Goodbye, merchant,” they said in a voice that echoed three times over. Loulie fell to her knees just fast enough to avoid the arc of their blades. Her eyes slid to the sandy ground.
To the single reflection of Omar looming above her.
The epiphany hit like lightning as Mazen, invisible but yelling, ran forward and shoved into the illusions. All three were shocked.
Loulie felt an invisible hand on her shoulder.
“Akhi!” Omar’s eyes were bright, his smile stretched so wide it was almost manic. All three princes wore the same expression. “Aisha told me you had stolen the shadow jinn’s relic. What a perfect magic for you!”
Loulie’s mind whirred. The reflection—the reflection was the key. The ifrit’s relic could conjure Omar’s likeness, but it could not replicate a reflection. Her eyes darted between the phantoms and the reflection, until she saw the real Omar: the one approaching from their left. He would put up a fight, but Loulie could best him. She could…
No. She dug her fingers into the sand. How many times had she leapt into danger to prove that she was invincible, only to have to be rescued?
It is not weakness to rely on others for help, Qadir had said.
“The reflection,” she murmured. “The real one has a reflection.” She shuddered. And then she spoke words she had never spoken before: “Help me.”
The prince squeezed her shoulder, and then his hand was gone.
“I know why you killed the sultan.” Mazen’s disembodied voice came from somewhere to her right. One of the princes, not the real one, turned to face him. The others continued to stare pointedly at her, eyes narrowed. As if they were suspicious of her.
“I knew you would see in time,” said the Omar that had turned to him.
“He killed your mother?” Mazen was circling the area. Another illusion shifted, searching for him.
“He did,” Omar said lightly. “He told everyone she died in childbirth, but the truth is that he saw her bleeding silver and murdered her.” He laughed. “Do you know why the sultan killed so many of his wives, Mazen? It is because, after his second wife’s betrayal, he was convinced my mother was possessing them out of vengeance.”
Somewhere nearby, Mazen inhaled sharply. “How would you know?”
One of the princes scoffed. “Because he told me. You know how the sultan liked to boast about his kills. He told me she was a monster and that if I wanted to prove we were not the same, I had to kill for him.”
“And did he tell you to kill my mother?”
All three princes smiled. Loulie’s panic faded to shock.
“Did you show me that memory out of spite, Omar? To break me?”
One of the princes chuckled. “Nothing so convoluted as that. I just enjoy seeing you angry.”
Another illusion lunged forward but struck air. Mazen’s voice came from somewhere nearby: “Maybe our father was a monster, but you’re a monster too.” The second Omar struck. This time Loulie heard a yelp, scrambled footsteps. “You told everyone you were going to save Madinne from jinn, but you led them to the city, didn’t you? The shadow jinn—you provoked her. You brought her to our home. All so you could convince the sultan to put your thieves into his army. All so you could trick him.”
The shadow jinn had warned Loulie of killers in black. Now she realized the jinn had not been referring to the thieves that had murdered her tribe, but to Omar’s own forty thieves.
The prince inhaled sharply. “And Hakim, he never did anything to you. And yet you—”
The third Omar hissed. “That bastard escaped. Ahmed bin Walid doomed himself when he stepped in to protect him. He died for your pathetic, inconsequential brother.”
Loulie dug her hands into the sand. Tears burned behind her eyes, but she would not cry. The wali of Dhyme had always been loyal to the crown. All Loulie could do was hope he had found some peace in sacrificing himself for one of the princes.
And she—she would make his sacrifice worth it. Somehow.
Loulie couldn’t see Mazen, but she could hear the shaky relief in his voice when he responded, “Ahmed bin Walid was a loyal man. But you… Father would never endanger Madinne. You’re worse than he was.”
“Sometimes,” Omar said quietly, “you must burn and remake a city to save it.” He moved then, and his shadows moved with him, all of them stabbing the same space.
Mazen screamed.
Loulie rushed forward. She threw herself on the real prince.
Omar had just enough time to look startled before she dug the knife into his throat—or tried to. The prince shoved her off, and the knife went into his shoulder instead. But it was enough to unbalance him. Enough of an opening for Mazen to grab him from behind as the shadow fell from his shoulders.
“I don’t care how many injustices you’ve suffered.” He looped his arms around Omar’s throat. “You stole everything from me!” He pulled.
Loulie pounced again on Omar. She’d just barely managed to pull the knife from his shoulder when he kicked her, hard, in the stomach. She gasped as pain flared through her body. The shock of it drove the air from her lungs, and she crumpled to her knees. There were tears in her eyes when she looked up and watched Omar throw Mazen off him with a roar of rage. Mazen clung to his legs and pulled him to the ground.
The illusions had disappeared, but there were other, physical reinforcements approaching. Loulie put them out of her mind as she crawled toward Omar.
Mazen was still clinging to him, trying to grasp Omar’s ear. “You stole my mother. But you still have yours, don’t you? In this damned relic!”
Loulie saw the glint of silver in Omar’s ear. His crescent earring. The ifrit’s relic. The godsdamned magic behind all these illusions.
Loulie braced herself. She gritted her teeth against the pain and sprang at the prince. Reached for his ear. Omar elbowed her in the gut. Loulie hissed and hung on until, until, until—
She tore the earring out of his ear.
Omar screamed.
Loulie staggered away, the bloody earring clenched in her fist. One of the reinforcements grabbed her from behind.
Blood trickled down the side of the prince’s face as he approached. “I’m going to kill you.” His voice was soft, calm. Behind him, Mazen was on his knees, hand pressed to an injury on his arm. He looked at Loulie in silent desperation.