“I do not.” Aisha uttered the claim so quickly even she seemed surprised. She straightened. Again, there was that flicker of irritation across her features. “The jinn wrongly thought you were murderers because of the relics you carried. But I am the jinn hunter. If she wanted vengeance on anyone, it would be me.” A sardonic smile flitted across her face. “But instead, we made a deal. You can see her priorities have changed.”
There was a beat of silence as they stared at each other. Though Mazen felt slightly more at ease, Loulie regarded Aisha with stony skepticism. “Then tell us the rest of the story. What happened to the jinn that gave you the collar?” Qadir. Mazen heard his name, even unspoken.
Aisha raised her brows, inclined her head. “What is he to you, merchant?”
Loulie frowned. “I see no reason to answer your question if you will not answer mine.”
Aisha crossed her arms. “He left. Disappeared. But he would have come back for me.” She scowled. “For the collar. He and”—she clenched her hands—“the queen know each other. He used her power to control the ghouls in the treasure chamber.”
The memory unfurled in Mazen’s mind. He was back in Imad’s pitch-black treasure chamber as some invisible force brushed past him. Only, in this recollection, he saw the force was Qadir and that he was walking through the dark with the collar around his neck, humming a soundless song. The Queen of Dunes’ song. Mazen wondered how long it had taken for the cutthroats to realize the ghouls had turned on them.
“I should have realized something was amiss when Imad didn’t mention finding the collar,” Loulie mumbled. “But I never thought Qadir would be…” She trailed off, gaze blank.
Aisha eyed the dagger in Loulie’s hands. “So your bodyguard was a jinn.”
Was. Mazen did not miss the way the merchant’s eyes flashed at the word. But she said nothing, only glared silently, knife gripped between trembling fingers.
“It sounds as if you knew Qadir even before we recovered your relic from the ruins.” Mazen found his gaze straying to Aisha’s darker eye when he spoke. If there was any piece of her that belonged to the jinn, it was that eye.
Aisha’s lips quirked. It was nothing but a twitch, there one moment and gone the next, but Mazen experienced the disconcerting feeling of being judged by not one, but two women. “Yes,” she said. “But I cannot tell that story without his permission.” She stood and stretched, then began to walk away.
“Wait!” Mazen stood and followed her. “Where are you going? You can’t just—”
She turned to face him. “When was the last time you ate?”
The question took him by surprise. His stomach, which had been tight with nerves, suddenly churned with hunger. How long had it been?
“Exactly. We can continue this discussion after I hunt.” Mazen eyed her blood-drenched clothing. As far as he could see, she had no weapons. She must have read the question on his face. “Humans use falcons to hunt.” She gestured outside with a thumb. “I have ghouls.”
Mazen edged his way to the entrance. The moment he saw the six ghouls standing sentinel outside, he fell back with a cry.
Aisha sighed. “How do you think I got out of the ruins? Ghouls are very good at digging.” When he simply stared at her, she added, “Imad forced them to do his bidding with a relic he stole”—her voice dripped with disgust—“but I can summon and dismiss them with my magic, so long as they are nearby.”
“But—” He had so many buts, he didn’t even know where to begin. He glanced helplessly at Loulie, but she was not looking at him. Her attention was fixed on the dagger. He realized, with some shock, that there were tears on her cheeks.
Aisha slapped a hand on his shoulder. “Join me, Prince.”
“But,” he said again. He was not keen on being alone with a deadly jinn.
Caution battled with guilt. In the ruins, Aisha had saved him. He wanted to trust her. Wanted to believe that if she was strong enough to circumvent death, she was strong enough to keep her mind intact. He cast another nervous look over his shoulder at Loulie.
“The ghouls will be standing outside,” Aisha said. She’ll be fine was the unspoken claim, but Mazen was still worried.
Aisha gave him no chance to reconsider; she pulled him out of the cave before he could protest again.
49
LOULIE
Once she was alone, Loulie raised the dagger and murmured, “Qadir?”
There was no response.
In the ruins, he had returned for her. He had been smoke and fire and shadow, but he’d been alive. Now even his reflection was gone.
“You sank ruins to save me.” She rubbed furiously at her cheeks, despising her tears but unable to stop them from falling. “And now, what, you’re just going to fade away? I thought you were stronger than that.” The tears came quicker, shaking her body and making her vision blur.
You are the weak one, said a small voice inside her head.
And it was that confession, that truth, that finally broke her. All these years she’d been trying to distance herself from her past failures. Layla had been too young and helpless to save everyone she loved. So as Loulie, she’d vowed to become stronger, wiser. Someone who, unbeholden to anyone, would be able to rescue herself without worrying about losing others.
But she had failed—to save both herself and Qadir.
She did not know how long she sat there crying, only that by the time her tears had dried, the prince and the thief had not returned. She didn’t care.
The emptiness was a chasm inside her, and it grew deeper and deeper until it swallowed her whole, pulling her into a dismal, fragmented sleep. When the nightmares continued to wake her, she gave up on slumber and decided to search for the missing prince and thief. She moved to stand—and cried out when excruciating pain shot through her ankles.
Her legs. She had forgotten.
She looked up at the sound of footsteps. They were soft, so faint she could barely hear them. She saw a hazy shape. A man-shaped shadow.
She squinted. “Prince?”
The man stepped forward, and in the flickering firelight she saw it was not Prince Mazen. No, this man was badly burned and wounded, and barely standing upright.
Her heartbeat tripped. “No, but—you’re dead.” She scrambled back, only to find herself up against the cave wall, legs quivering with pain.
The man she had burned, the man she had killed, drew closer, knife raised. “If I must die,” Imad rasped, “I shall take you with me.” He lunged.
Loulie screamed as a hand came down on her shoulder. She gasped and tried to wiggle away. “No!” The word was a plea, a prayer. “No, no—”
“Loulie, you’re dreaming.” The voice was so soft it was barely audible, and yet it washed over her like a soothing wave, smoothing the edges of her panic. She eased her eyes open.
A red-eyed shadow sat before her. Another blink, and the shadow became a solid man with umber skin and faded tattoos. She focused on his eyes: soft and brown and human.
“You were making a face in your sleep,” Qadir said. “I thought it rude to keep staring.”
Loulie threw herself at him with a choked sob. Pain lanced through her ankles, but in that moment, the injury did not matter. She waited for Qadir to dissipate into smoke. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. He didn’t say anything, just sat there quietly as she cried into his shoulder. For a time, they stayed like that, the silence broken only by her hiccups and, when she had quieted, the crackle of the campfire.
There was silence. Soft and comfortable.
Eventually, Loulie pulled away to look at his face. He looked perfectly human. She reached out to touch his cheek. Perfectly solid.
His expression softened. “You were dreaming, so I woke you.”
Loulie stared at him, daring the planes of his face to crumble to dust. But he remained. “You died,” she said at last, voice hoarse.
She did not realize she had pulled away until Qadir reached out to set his hand atop hers. “Never dead. Incapacitated, but not dead. I am sorry it took me so long to find you.”
“But the trap—”
“Enough to wound me. Slow me down.”
“You were smoke…”
“It is no simple thing, re-forming a body so badly damaged.”
Loulie swallowed. “But the swords were made of iron.”
Qadir scoffed. “Who do you think I am?”