He’d managed to avoid Aisha last night, but he couldn’t ignore her penetrating gaze now.
“You gave away a priceless relic yesterday,” she snapped.
“It was never ours.”
“You found it—”
“And I gave it away to the merchant. I would rather not be possessed by a vengeful jinn, shukran.”
“You’re a coward.”
The accusation startled him. It hardly mattered that it was the truth. “You weren’t there when the wali was first possessed. Not even a sliver of his consciousness remained. You would risk that danger?”
“Yes.” Her response was so immediate and sure it shocked him into silence. “I am one of the forty thieves. It’s my job to collect relics for my king.”
King. Mazen hated that title. It gave his brother an authority he did not deserve. He glanced at his shadow and thought of the dream that had plagued him since the shadow jinn’s demise, the one he now recognized as her memory. His brother had killed her—ruthlessly. And the part of her that remained had somehow attached itself to his shadow. Had somehow changed it into a relic.
After witnessing the shadow jinn’s memory and hearing the Queen of Dunes’ words, he had no doubts. He didn’t know how jinn magic worked beyond the miracle of their blood, but this at least explained his new power. He’d briefly contemplated telling Aisha about the shadow, but now he reconsidered.
If she knew it existed, she would try to steal it. Never mind the impossibility of the act. If anyone could find a way to steal a shadow, it was Aisha bint Louas.
He looked at her now, trying to gauge her awareness. “Do you know what they are? The relics you’re collecting for my brother?”
“Speak plainly, Prince.”
Haltingly, he told her about what he’d realized in the diwan. Aisha was completely unfazed by his explanation, which meant she thought he was lying, or…
“So you know,” he said softly.
“Of course I know.” She rolled her shoulders in a shrug. “Our king is the most accomplished hunter in the desert. Do you know how many relics he’s stolen off corpses? He surmised there were souls in them long ago.”
Mazen stared at her, horrified. “Do all hunters know?”
“None that I’ve met. But a wise one would know to check a corpse for magic regardless.”
He must have been wearing a gloomy expression, because she sniffed and said, “Wipe that sour look off your face. The jinn are monsters. We use their blood to return nature to the world; what does it matter if we use their soul magic too?” She leaned against the door, pinched the bridge of her nose. “Do you ever think things through?”
He bristled. “At least I am not single-minded like you.” The words stunned him nearly as much as they did Aisha. When had he become so blunt?
The thief recovered her composure quickly enough. “I, at least, know how to take my obligations seriously. I don’t go around forgetting relics in other people’s homes.”
Mazen flinched. Because of his forgetfulness, people were dead. The epiphany was so heavy it stole the breath from his lungs. Last night, all he had seen in the darkness behind his lids was carnage. Blood on the walls and corpses with torn bodies and glassy eyes.
My fault, my fault. His heart burned with remorse. “I never wanted the responsibility of that relic,” he murmured.
“If you had told me it was missing, I would have stopped the bloodshed before it began.”
“And if we’d given the relic to the merchant in the first place, we could have avoided this situation entirely.” Mazen’s irritation intensified into an impending headache. He rubbed at his temples. “At least I tried to make that decision for myself.”
Aisha glowered at him. “What are you implying?”
“That I don’t go around doing things only because Omar told me to. All you ever speak about are relics and your obligations to my brother.”
“I don’t owe it to you to speak about anything else,” Aisha snapped as she reached for the doorknob. “My king ordered me to be your bodyguard, not your friend.”
Mazen stepped forward as she turned the knob. “Why do you call him that? King.” Aisha paused to glance at him over her shoulder. “You speak as if you’re his servant, not his comrade.”
Aisha smiled at him. A mocking smile. “You think we’re friends? You’re even more foolish than I thought, Prince.”
“But you willingly joined Omar—”
“To kill jinn. So long as his orders allow me to do that, I will follow them without question. My only goal is to kill jinn. I am more than happy to let my king keep the spoils if there are any to be found.”
“But why?”
Aisha scoffed as she opened the door. “My reasons are none of your business.”
She had just stepped outside when Mazen called her back. Although he did not want to mention his shadow, he’d decided earlier there was one secret he needed to share with her.
“Wait! Before you go…” He pulled one of Omar’s knives out of his belt and, after some hesitation—It’s just a shallow wound—drew it across his palm. Even though he’d purposely nicked himself with a blade in various places since the incident last night, his heart still fell at the sight of the black blood. He held his hand up to Aisha, who closed the door, face paling.
She strode across the room and took his hand. “When did you discover this?” She swiped at the blood with her finger. It looked like a smudge of dirt on her skin.
“Last night, when the wali cut my shoulder.” He recalled the panic pulsing in his chest when he’d washed it, alone and away from prying eyes, at the wali’s manor.
Aisha considered the blood for a long moment before tapping the bangle on his wrist. “Take it off,” she said.
Mazen blinked. “What?”
“Do it. I want to see something.”
Mazen moved away from the window and, after throwing one last surreptitious glance at the door, pulled the bangle from his arm. The familiar and uncomfortable sensation of not belonging in his own skin returned, followed by a nausea that forced him to seek balance against the wall. Trembling, he looked down at his hand. It was no longer calloused, no longer Omar’s. But most importantly, the blood on his palm was no longer black.
Aisha shook her head. “The black blood looks to be a side effect of the jinn magic.”
Mazen pushed his bloodied hand through his hair—his hair!—and nearly cried at the feeling of it beneath his fingers. It had been so long since he’d been himself.
“I didn’t realize relics had side effects,” he said softly.
“Neither did I.” Aisha grabbed the bangle from him, squinted at it as she turned it over in her hands. “So long as the blood’s not poisonous and has no ill effects, I don’t think it matters.” She handed it back to him, but when she commanded him to put it back on, he hesitated.
Though Omar’s reflexes had helped him survive this far, he missed feeling at home in his own body. “Just for a few minutes, I’d like to take a break from all this treachery.”
Aisha scoffed. “Fine.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Anything else you want to tell me before I run some errands and find the merchant?”
He blinked at her. “Errands?”
“Have you forgotten that I need to buy another horse?”
Mazen flushed. He had forgotten. Aisha’s runaway horse had been the last thing on his mind when they fled from the ruins. The merchant had barely been conscious, so Qadir had chosen to seat her in front of him so he could hold her on the way to Dhyme while Aisha rode Loulie’s horse.
“Such an impressive memory you have.” Aisha snorted. “So? Any other revelations?”
Again, he found his eyes wandering to his shadow, a muted silhouette on the colorless wall. He shook his head. “No, but don’t worry about calling the merchant. Let me find her. I know where she is.”
He’d seen her storming away from the inn and heading back in the direction of the wali’s residence when he returned last night.