Truly, she should not have taken this journey. But she had to. To prove to herself she was capable. That she did not need to rely on Qadir.
And yet here they were. Both of them. Qadir had refused to let her go alone and was trailing her from a distance, watching silently as she struggled. He did not try to help her, and because it was clear she was in no mood for conversation, he did not speak to her. Even yesterday in the souk, he had been quiet, content to accompany her just to make sure neither she nor the prince “did anything stupid,” as he put it.
Loulie was so trapped in her thoughts, she did not notice the dip in the cliff ledge. She stepped too hard and would have slipped off the edge had Qadir not grabbed her from behind. She realized only belatedly that she had reached for him at the same moment.
The two of them stood there, trembling, staring at each other.
And then Loulie pulled away, curled her fingers into a fist, and kept walking.
She was still shaken when they reached the top of the cliff, a plateau so high she could see the entirety of Ghiban: the winding streams, the patches of green, and the vibrant souk in the center, filled with crowds of people and charming displays. She glanced at the water crashing down the cliff, then looked at its source: a large lake only steps away.
“The water is infinite,” Qadir said when he saw the confusion on her face. “Created by jinn blood, no doubt.”
Like that damn forever-refilling hourglass. Once, she’d thought it worthless. Now that she knew the true nature of relics, she realized it was anything but.
She pulled out the compass—the last magic she had left besides Qadir’s knife—and squinted at the arrow. It was pointing at the lake. Of course the relic was underwater.
“Ideas?” Qadir stood behind her, glaring at the lake. He’d never liked water.
Loulie sighed as she began pulling off layers. When she was down to her most basic garments, she slid out of her shoes, set down the compass and knife, and edged toward the water.
“Be careful,” Qadir called.
Wet sand gathered between her toes as she stepped into the lake. She saw rocks, moss, and then, there—a glimmer of silver. From this distance, she could not tell what it was, only that it was buried beneath silt. She stepped forward. Once, twice, and then the sand shifted beneath her feet and she slid. By the time she caught herself, the water had risen to her chest.
She cursed beneath her breath.
“Loulie?” Qadir called from the bank.
“I’m fine,” she mumbled, and continued walking. Soon the water was up to her chin, but the relic was close. She could see now that it was a ring.
She paused to count down in her head—Thalathah, ithnan, wahid—and dove. She plunged into a darkness that grabbed at her with cold, invisible hands. She shoved down her fear as she swam deeper, clawing through the sand in her blind search for the ring. Pressure built in her ears. It had a sound: a moan that penetrated deep into her bones.
Come on, come on…
She felt something cold and hard beneath her fingers and grasped at it desperately. Relief flooded her body as she caught hold of it.
And then the thing moved. It wasn’t a ring. It was too large, too slippery. Too sharp.
She jerked away, but too late. The thing grabbed her wrist and pulled her down. Her eyes shot open. She stared into the darkness, and the darkness stared back. Milky-white eyes with dilated pupils blinked at her from the gloom. And beneath those eyes: a crescent-shaped mouth filled with rows of sharp teeth.
No. She dug her nails into its scaled flesh. It only tightened its grip.
No! The sharpened teeth parted beneath her feet and the glazed white eyes blinked, inches from her own. Loulie scraped at them, desperate, and the beast roared, making the entire lake shudder. Cracks of silver speared through the darkness. Fins, she realized. Large, razor-sharp fins shimmering with dull scales. And one of those oddly shaped fins was just beginning to loosen around her wrist.
Loulie clenched her teeth and kicked. The silver-tipped darkness thrashed against her, but she was persistent. Another kick, and she managed to pull free. Her lungs were starved of air and her ankles were on fire, but she pushed herself up toward the surface. Or at least, she tried to. But her body was suddenly heavy, and the water was pulling her down, down, down…
When the thing grabbed her again, she was too weak to fight back.
But no, wait—it was pulling her… up?
She crashed through the surface of the water with a gasp, even as someone—Qadir?—pulled her to shore. He set her down at the water’s edge and ordered her to breathe until the pressure in her lungs eased and she stopped coughing up water.
When he spoke, his voice was jagged at the edges. “Loulie?”
He sat shuddering beside her, rivulets of water trickling down his muscled back and chest. Though he’d avoided soaking his shirt, she had the impression he had drenched more than just his skin, for his eyes were a pale, feeble yellow. The color of a dying flame.
“So you do know how to swim.” Her words were barely a rasp, and for some reason, that made her laugh. It made her laugh so hard she started crying.
Qadir pulled her to him. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I did not realize there was anything in the water.”
“What?” was all she managed between her hiccups.
“A dendan,” Qadir said. “You remember the stories Old Rhuba used to tell?”
Loulie did remember. Old Rhuba had always described the dendan as a monster fish, a creature big enough to eat ships whole. But in his stories, the creature died after devouring human flesh or hearing a human voice. This monster did not seem so feeble to her.
“Jinn blood changes living things,” Qadir said, as if sensing her thoughts. He cast a forlorn look over his shoulder at the still water. “Like ghouls, all kinds of creatures are drawn to our magic. This is what happens when such a monster has been drenched in jinn blood.”
Loulie thought of the massacre between the marid and the humans. How the mythical dendan had found its way here into fresh water, she did not know, but if it was sensitive to the lamentations of the dead, then she could see why it had developed a taste for human flesh. It was no wonder this relic had been here for so long.
The relic! She pushed herself away from Qadir and glanced at the water, heart sinking. She had failed. She had failed in this one simple thing…
“Looking for this?” Qadir held out a glimmering object: a ring inlaid with a cerulean-blue jewel. Loulie grabbed it from him, eyes wide.
“How did you get this?” She slid the ring onto her finger. Nothing happened.
“The dendan had eyes only for you.” He leaned over her shoulder to tap the gem at the center. “It allows you to breathe underwater. I slid it onto my finger when I was under the surface. The magic did not last long. Maybe seven or eight heartbeats, at most.”
It was, like the hourglass, a humble magic. And yet she was relieved. “It will sell, then.”
“You know magic always sells.”
She nodded quietly. Now that the danger had passed, she realized with greater clarity where she was. Who she was with. She had come here to prove to herself she was not useless. And yet, again, she had needed Qadir’s help.
Her shoulders slumped as she looked away. “Thank you for saving me.”
“You look disappointed.”
Not disappointed, just ashamed.
“Loulie.” He slid closer, until their shoulders were touching. “Talk to me.”
Loulie pulled her knees to her chest and stared resolutely at the water. “There’s nothing to say.” The words caught in her throat as she said them. The truth was that she missed talking to Qadir. She missed him.