Mazen found, oddly, that he was enjoying himself.
When a man approached, Mazen slid around to his blind side and nicked him with his sword. The villain turned and slashed at the air. “Shabah!” he yelled, and the men immediately grasped their weapons and scattered.
Only Jassem remained by Aisha. “There’s no such thing, fools,” he snapped.
Mazen approached, gripping his sword tight enough to make his knuckles numb. He honed his fear into conviction. I survived the Queen of Dunes. I survived the shadow jinn. This is nothing.
He sidestepped Jassem and knelt behind Aisha, who stiffened when he sawed at her bindings. She whipped her head around as they fell, and Mazen pushed his sword into her hands. “Run,” he whispered. And though Aisha trembled at the sound of his voice, she did not hesitate. Even bloodied and weak, she rose quickly. Jassem turned, mouth hanging open. “What—”
It was the only word he managed before Aisha slashed at him with the blade, drawing a line of crimson across his chest. The big man recovered quickly, but Mazen tackled him before he could give chase. The criminal fell back with a cry that was more startled than pained.
Mazen used the opening to throw a punch—only to have Jassem catch his wrist midstrike. The shadow parted between Mazen’s fingers like a curtain.
Jassem stared. Mazen imagined what he was seeing: reality parted in front of him, and a sliver of Mazen’s face peeking through. Jassem was too shocked to move. Mazen was not.
He kneed Jassem in the groin. The man released his hand with a roar of pain.
Mazen turned and fled.
43
LOULIE
Loulie knew immediately when Imad returned to her cell that something was wrong.
There were human men with him. Mercenaries or cutthroats, if the weapons at their belts were any sign of their occupation. The men were the first indication that something had changed. The second was Imad’s stormy expression. Before, he had been the picture of calm. Now his eyes—Omar’s eyes—flashed with a dangerous light.
Before Loulie could speak, Imad lurched across the cell and grabbed her by the collar of her robe. “What trickery, merchant?” His words flecked spittle onto her face.
Trickery? Her mind spun even as she glared at him.
He shook her hard enough to make her teeth rattle. “No games!”
Loulie looked him right in the eye and spat in his face. Imad slapped her. Stars burst before her eyes as her head lolled.
“Don’t play dumb with me. You knew about the prince’s relic.”
She gritted her teeth against the pain. Tasted metal in her mouth, realizing she’d accidentally bitten her tongue. “I already told you I know nothing about the damned bangle.”
“Not the bangle.” He pressed her to the wall. “The shadow.”
She stared at him. Has he gone mad?
When she said nothing, Imad shoved her back and stepped away. He looked between the men flanking him. “You’re sure of what you saw?”
They shared a glance over his head. “Yes, it happened shortly after you left. We thought there was a shabah in the room at first,” said the younger. “But then we saw the prince’s face—”
“And he and bint Louas got away?”
The men said nothing, only looked at him helplessly. Imad fixed his scowl on Loulie. Her stomach twisted as he stepped closer. “You knew,” he murmured.
No. She didn’t say the word aloud. Imad wouldn’t believe it. Hell, she didn’t believe it. Any of it. The thief and the prince, escaped? A shadow relic? What did that even mean?
“I do not care if I have to slice the boy’s shadow from his body; I will have it.” The mask of calm had returned to his face. “And you will help me steal it.”
No. She tried to speak, but her throat had gone dry. The more Imad’s glare bored into her, the more difficult it became to breathe. She remembered the edge of a knife against her throat.
Do you desire death or slavery, girl?
She gritted her teeth. No. She was Loulie al-Nazari, and she was not the helpless girl she’d been when her tribe was murdered.
She lunged at Imad. Desperation fueled her as she tore at his robes and gouged gashes into his arms. Imad pushed her away with the same effort one would use to swat away a fly. Loulie came at him again, heedless of reason.
There was only that void of loss and anger inside her. Not again, not again.
Imad’s men grabbed her by the arms. “You want to be difficult, al-Nazari?” His gaze was deadly in its blankness. “Then we will do this the hard way.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew something silver. A shackle, she realized when she saw the chain jutting from its side.
Imad barked a command. The older man withdrew a swath of silk and stuffed it into her mouth. The other held her nose. No, no, no…
Her world went dark.
Loulie awoke in an ancient, extravagant chamber. The ceiling portrayed a war between jinn cloaked in fire and humans wielding iron weapons. The colors were faded, the faces a blur, but the red and silver blood splatters were perfectly rendered. Loulie glanced away from the ghastly depiction as she sat up and looked around her. She saw mountains of gold and sparkling marble columns. Long, beautifully detailed carpets and elaborate tapestries that looked like they belonged in the sultan’s treasury, not this dusty ruin. And then she saw the human men—a little fewer than a dozen, watching her from every corner of the room.
“Welcome, merchant, to our treasure chamber.” The high prince came into view. Loulie startled, then remembered the bangle he was wearing. Not Omar.
Imad smirked. “I confess it is amusing to watch you balk at my appearance.”
Loulie clamped her mouth shut against a retort. She eyed the men stationed around the chamber. “Who are they?”
The moment she spoke, she felt a shocking chill at her neck—a cold so sharp it numbed all other sensation but pain. She keeled over with a soundless gasp.
Imad chuckled. “Sorry. You spoke before I could explain.” He crouched beside her and lifted her chin so he could look her in the eyes. “I thought it would be better if I did most of the talking. And to that end, I have given you a little gift.” Loulie felt his fingernails against her skin. “This relic punishes you for speaking by shooting a needle into your neck.”
She pulled away from him, breathing hard. Imad stood, eyes shining as he gestured at the men watching the spectacle with hungry eyes. “To answer your question: my companions are fellow outlaws. They are the ones who brought me news of your travels.” He angled his head. “These ruins are our sanctuary.”
Loulie knew she should focus. Plan. Escape. No one was coming to save her. The prince wouldn’t put himself in danger for her, and neither would the thief. To them, she was an easily dispensable pawn. The only one who had ever cared was Qadir. And he was…
Dead. The sorrow washed over her anew. He’s dead.
Distantly, she heard Imad talking. He was pacing as he spoke of his plan to capture the prince. She was to be the bait, yes, and he had ghouls—he gestured to them all, hidden in shadowed corners—who would sniff the prince out when he arrived and…
He stopped suddenly. “Let us speak of something more interesting, mm?” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a knife. Loulie balked at the sight of it. Danger, her sluggish mind screamed, and she pushed herself back, away. But then Imad lowered it, and she saw the gold qaf on the hilt. The first letter of Qadir’s name.
“When your jinn companion died, I had my ghouls return to the trap to search for a relic. They found nothing. Only a dead horse and flowers and ivy twisting around the blades. I did not realize why, at first, until I remembered the strange blade you were carrying.” He flipped the dagger back and forth. It shimmered a soft blue beneath the wall sconces.