“You told me you had to deal with a troublesome jinn, but didn’t elaborate.” Ahmed leaned forward, arms draped across his knees. Somehow, he managed to make the slouch look refined. “But you must enlighten me! What happened?”
Mazen hesitated. What was the danger in bragging? He had overheard his brother boast to Ahmed about his kills before, after all. He reached into his satchel for the relic, which Aisha had packed with the rest of his belongings in case questions of ownership were asked. They both knew Omar would never have yielded a relic to one of his thieves for safekeeping.
Of course, that didn’t stop Aisha from holding on to the satchel when they weren’t in someone else’s company.
“It’s quite the story…” He gave Ahmed the short version, omitting the bits about him and Loulie being possessed. At the end, Ahmed released a low whistle and eagerly held out his hand for the relic. Mazen handed it over.
“Amazing…” Ahmed turned the collar over in his hands. “To think such a small thing could contain such power.”
Mazen shrugged. He hoped it looked characteristically nonchalant. “Isn’t that the way it always is with relics? It is impossible to tell their worth through appearance alone.” He could not stop his eyes from wandering to the bangle as he spoke. It was hard to believe his own body was a hair’s breadth away, that all he would have to do to be himself was remove it.
Ahmed looked thoughtful. “True enough. Though I can’t say I’ve come across enough of them to know for certain.” He laughed as he set the collar on his lap. “I’m amazed the Midnight Merchant hasn’t tried to barter this off you.”
Oh, she’s tried. Her and her bodyguard both.
He quickly changed the subject. “You seem to know al-Nazari well. Do you do business with her often?”
“I have seen the Midnight Merchant on many occasions, but no, I have never purchased anything from her. I prefer not to rely on jinn magic I do not understand.”
Mazen raised a brow. “What point is there in meeting with a merchant if not to buy something from them?”
Ahmed smiled. “I enjoy her company.”
Mazen opened his mouth to say something. And said nothing. Ahmed chuckled at his confusion. “Is it so strange I enjoy spending time with her? Loulie al-Nazari is like a candle; she lights up even the darkest of nights with her smile.”
Loulie al-Nazari, a candle in the night? She had seemed anything but warm to Ahmed at the gathering last night. Was the man simply in denial?
Ahmed either didn’t register Mazen’s shock or ignored it. “I think the two of us are well matched,” he said with a dreamy look on his face. “At least, I like to hope so.”
Mazen tried to imagine Loulie al-Nazari, perpetual storm cloud, standing beside the ever-shining Ahmed bin Walid. He did not realize he was laughing until the smile faded from Ahmed’s face. “Does something amuse you, sayyidi?”
“You amuse me, Ahmed. Loulie al-Nazari is a wanderer. If she’s married to anything, it’s the desert.”
The look on Ahmed’s face was uncharacteristically stoic. “You speak as if you know her, sayyidi, but is she not just a pawn for you, a means to an end?”
Mazen stared. How did he respond to that honesty? How did Omar respond to it?
“My relationship with the merchant is none of your business.” He did not have to put effort into making the words icy. “What does this have to do with your infatuation?”
Ahmed considered him for a few moments before leaning back and loosing a breath. “Nothing. I only meant to imply she has other sides of which you are unaware. If you knew about them, you would not find our relationship so strange.” He smiled, but it was a smile that did not reach his eyes.
The awkward silence that ensued was proof that neither of them was eager to continue the conversation. It was the opening Mazen had been waiting for. He stood with a sigh, stretching slowly to make it seem as if he had not been anticipating this moment since his arrival. “I am too restless for these domestic scenes, I think.” He flashed what he hoped was a convincingly Omar-like smile. “I thank you for your hospitality, but I’m afraid I must be going now. I need to map out our travel route before we leave tomorrow.”
Ahmed’s responding smile was stiff. “Of course, sayyidi. Will you at least be able to attend the meeting with the other hunters tonight?”
The meeting of the jinn hunters was apparently a monthly gathering in Dhyme. Aisha had provided an explanation last night after Ahmed personally invited them. Neither Mazen nor Aisha was keen on Mazen’s attendance. Mazen because the last thing he wanted was to listen to killers brag about the blood on their hands, and Aisha because she doubted his ability to lie convincingly about having that blood on his hands.
Mazen settled for a noncommittal answer. “Time permitting, I will be there.”
A dent appeared between Ahmed’s brows at the response. Mazen cringed. Stupid! Why would Omar pass up the opportunity to flaunt his prowess? But it was too late to take the words back, so he did the next best thing: he fled before he could dig himself into a deeper hole.
28
AISHA
When Aisha and the prince returned to the Wanderer’s Sanctuary tavern, the small room was packed with marketgoers and travelers and filled with the sounds of clinking glass and ringing laughter. The chaos made her miss the quiet, safe solitude of her bedroom. Now she could not afford to let her guard down. The prince—and the damned talking relic—were a constant concern. She was beginning to wonder if staying in Madinne would have been the less annoying choice after all.
They had just stepped into the tavern when the prince froze. Aisha followed his gaze to the staircase, where Loulie al-Nazari was descending in her brown robe. Her face was unpainted, her eyes cracked with red as if she hadn’t slept. Her bodyguard was nowhere in sight.
Aisha glanced at the prince. The expression of longing on his face was almost embarrassing to witness. When the merchant approached, he opened his mouth as if to say something but then just ended up offering a cordial nod as she walked out the door without acknowledging them. He looked crestfallen.
Aisha nudged him. “Your lovesickness is showing, sayyidi.”
The prince flushed. “I’m not…”
But she was uninterested in his excuse and already walking toward the stairs. By the time he caught up to her, she’d used a spare key to enter his room, and spread Prince Hakim’s map on his bed. “I hope you didn’t embarrass yourself too badly in front of the wali.” She pointed to the room’s desk, and he set his satchel atop and sighed.
“If you were so worried, you should have been there,” he mumbled. “It would have been more productive than sulking on the stairs.”
“Omar did not send me here to babysit you.”
“No? That’s what he told me. ‘Leave the fighting to Aisha,’ he said. ‘She’ll protect you.’”
“I think you’re confusing bodyguard with nursemaid. Now, come.” She patted the edge of the bed. “Let’s get this over with.”
The prince obediently sat as she outlined what would be the fastest route to their final destination. She started by pointing out settlements and Bedouin campsites they would be able to rest at during their upcoming ride to Ghiban, the city of waterfalls. Aisha was impressed; Prince Hakim’s renderings of the cliffs and rivers were so detailed they could have been pulled from her memories. She paused, finger hovering over Ghiban. “Interesting.”
Prince Mazen looked up. “What is?”
“Your brother.” When the prince simply blinked at her, she raised a brow and said, “How is it that a trapped man knows the desert so well?”