“Do not forget it was I who saved him,” Qadir said.
Loulie suppressed a sigh. Qadir had already explained this to her. While she’d been suffocating beneath the jinn’s magic, Qadir had pulled Yousef from his trance and led him to the doors and to the sunlight that had—temporarily—vanquished the jinn. He’d returned to Loulie’s shoulder before they exited the place of worship.
“You couldn’t have helped me yourself?” she’d asked him earlier, at Old Rhuba’s stall.
“And reveal myself to another jinn? Never.”
“I could have died.”
“And it would have been your own damn fault for ignoring me.”
And so here they were, chasing after Yousef in the hopes of discovering why the jinn had mistaken him for a hunter in the first place. Loulie’s gold was on family ties.
Eventually, the dirt paths of the commoners’ quarters gave way to paved cobblestone streets, and the ramshackle houses became small box-shaped manors with impressive gilded doorways and beautiful latticed windows. The more extravagant homes had multiple floors and fenced-off gardens. One especially lavish dwelling even had two balconies.
Loulie shifted her attention away from the ostentatious buildings and back to Yousef, who was seamlessly ducking into the alleyways between them.
Definitely a man of secrets.
She had just followed him around the corner of a particularly narrow alley when she saw a man leaning against one of the walls and stopped. The moment he looked up, her heart jumped into her throat.
Omar bin Malik, the sultan’s eldest son, regarded her with a dazzling smile.
When he moved, he seemed to glimmer; Loulie saw silver rings on his fingers and a belt of daggers at his waist. Even his earring, a crescent that curved around his earlobe, seemed to glint menacingly beneath the moonlight.
Loulie was not taken in by his smile. Though Omar bin Malik had a reputation for being charismatic, he was also, above all else, a hunter. And not just any hunter, but the King of the Forty Thieves—the most prestigious band of jinn killers in the desert.
She surveyed him warily, taking in features she’d only ever observed from a distance. Olive skin, almond-colored eyes, hair cut close to his neck, and a stunning smile that somehow did not reach his eyes.
She briefly considered feigning naivete, then decided on humility.
She fell to her knees. “High Prince!”
The prince chuckled. “In the flesh.”
“It is an honor, sayyidi.” She tried not to tremble as he approached. Here was one of the most feared hunters in the desert, and sitting on her shoulder was a jinn he would kill in a heartbeat just to add to his tally. Qadir, thankfully, had scrambled down her neck and out of sight.
“I suppose it must be.” She could make out the dirt on his boots as he stopped in front of her. “Please, rise. You’ll get your robes dirty.”
She stood with as much pride as she could muster. The high prince was still smiling at her, but his brows were raised just enough to make it into a look of condescension. He reached into one of his pockets and withdrew a few copper coins. “Here,” he said. “For your trouble.”
She blinked. He thought she was a beggar?
“Oh, no, sayyidi, I’m—”
“I insist.” He jiggled the coins in his palm and waited, still with that arrogant smile on his face, for her to take them. Was it better to look right at him or away?
The best and worst thing would be to punch him, she thought with irritation.
She settled on looking through him and tried not to flinch when their fingers brushed. Afterward, he drew his hand away and said, “Return home. It is getting late, and dangerous things stalk the streets at night.”
She bristled at what was clearly a command but forced herself to nod and turn away. The prince called after her. “Be wary of shadows. That is where jinn roam.”
Loulie turned, but the high prince was already walking away, hands tucked into his pockets. She did not know how long she stood there, waiting for his shadow to disappear, but it occurred to her afterward that she’d lost Yousef.
She could use the compass to pick up his trail again, but—no, there would be time later.
“Let’s go home,” she muttered to the air.
“Yes,” Qadir said softly. “Let’s.”
Exhaustion settled on Loulie’s shoulders like a heavy blanket as she made her way back to Dahlia’s tavern.
Stars had overtaken the night sky by the time they returned. Loulie popped a pistachio into her mouth as she tried and failed to focus on the constellations. After the run-in with the jinn, it had been difficult to turn her mind away from the memory of her family’s death. Somehow, the shadow jinn had seen the killers in her mind and recognized them.
She frowned at the sky. She must have run into them before Qadir killed them.
Qadir made a sound in his throat that might have been a cough but sounded like a wheeze. “Remember to go into the tavern through the back door this time.”
Loulie sighed. “Yes, yes.” She diverted her attention to the tavern, an unspectacular two-story building with a slanted, dilapidated roof. Lanterns hung from the low scaffolding, illuminating dusty glass windows. Loulie could just barely make out the drunken crowds hooting and trilling inside. It was the beginning of the Cold Season, which meant Dahlia had just received a new shipment of wine—and that was always cause for celebration. Loulie had no doubt the revelers were drinking themselves into a stupor.
“Do not make the same mistake as last time.” Loulie flicked his tail but Qadir continued, undeterred. “‘No one will notice a girl plain as me,’ you said. And then I had to bite a man.”
She was glad Qadir was not in his man shape; he would have teased her for the flush in her cheeks.
The jinn had already crawled into their bag and retrieved the key they needed when they reached the back door. Loulie unlocked it and passed through a storage room packed with wine barrels to the staircase at the back of the building. Inside, the boisterous voices grew louder until she could make out verses of poetry. Though she herself preferred to deal in coin rather than words, she enjoyed listening to the impromptu poetry contests at the tavern. Tonight, however, she was too exhausted to make an appearance. She would converse with Dahlia tomorrow.
She made her way through the upstairs corridor to her apartments, which were in the state she’d left them in. There in the center of the room was the low-rising table where she and Qadir tested their relics and ate their meals together, and there was the divan by the window, where Loulie liked to lounge in the sun. To the right: a series of tome-filled shelves that contained everything from maps to stories to philosophical musings. Her walls were home to a collection of tapestries featuring desert landscapes, and an assortment of rugs, most of which had been purchased from the Bedouin tribes selling out of Madinne’s market, lay scattered on the floor.
It was small, familiar, and comfortable. A good place to rest between ventures.
As Loulie set down the bag of infinite space by the table, her eyes went to the single item on display that belonged to Qadir. It was tucked into a corner, barely noticeable from the door, but there was the shamshir she had purchased for him years ago, mounted on the wall beside the shelves. It was a simple but elegant thing, a steel blade with an ivory grip that had a single red gem on its guard. Qadir rarely wore the blade, preferring a bow when he had to rely on a weapon and couldn’t use magic, but Loulie had never regretted gifting it to him.