Aisha blinked, hard and slow. “Wait. Imad?”
The hunter did not respond. Not in their language, at least. Strange guttural sounds escaped his throat—more growls than words. The two ghouls holding Aisha pushed her head down until she was prostrated on the ground.
“The very same. I am humbled one of Omar’s thieves remembers my name.” The hunter’s voice dripped with venom. He looked away, back to the prince. Omar looked like he wanted to sink into the sand. Imad looked like he wanted to bury him in it.
“How ironic that our positions are now reversed, Prince. Do you remember our last meeting? When you forced me to grovel and beg forgiveness for your crimes?” He stepped forward, feet gliding soundlessly across the sand. Loulie’s eyes snagged on his hands, which were bandaged and misshapen.
“Well?” Imad glared at the prince. Omar stared back at him helplessly. There was no recognition in his eyes.
“My king need not waste his breath speaking to a traitor like you,” Aisha snapped.
Imad did not even turn to face her. “I will not warn you again, little thief. Seal your lips, or I will make sure you never flap them again.”
Aisha’s eyes flared with defiance, but the prince sharply said, “For gods’ sake, Aisha, heed the man.” He faced Imad with a bravado that quickly wilted beneath his gaze. “What is it you want? If it’s gold—”
“Gold? Ha! You could offer me your entire kingdom, and I would not bat a lash. No, I do not care for your gold. I want you.” He paused, his gaze straying to Loulie. “And her.”
“Go die in a hole.” The words escaped Loulie’s mouth before she could think them.
Imad reached up and withdrew the scarf from around his mouth to reveal a slanted smile of glimmering, crooked teeth. “Like your pathetic jinn friend?”
Loulie’s vision bloomed red. She lurched forward with a scream, knocking one of the ghouls off its feet. She managed only a single step before three ghouls detached from the watching group to restrain her. One knocked a bony fist into her stomach, and she keeled over.
Imad sighed. “Are all women this unruly now?”
Tears rolled down Loulie’s cheeks, but they were not from the pain. “Give him back,” she whispered.
Imad raised a brow. “You think me a god? I am flattered, merchant. But while it is in my profession to take lives, I’m afraid I am not in the business of giving them back.”
The last vestiges of Loulie’s rage burned away, leaving behind nothing but a damp sorrow. The tidal wave of grief washed over her suddenly, taking with it the last of her strength. She collapsed to her knees with a sob.
“I hadn’t expected the mighty King of the Forty Thieves to travel with a jinn.” Imad’s voice was quiet beneath her screaming grief. “I didn’t believe my ghouls when they said they’d smelled one. But then I thought, what’s the harm in setting up a trap? I’m glad I did. I don’t want to think about the chaos your jinn would have wreaked with its magic.”
Imad snapped his fingers and said something in the strange foreign language made up of garbles and grunts. A command, Loulie realized as the ghouls poked and prodded her. They stole Qadir’s dagger and peeled the rings off her fingers. One of them grabbed the bag of infinite space from her saddle.
She watched blankly as they stole Aisha’s blades and Omar’s belt of black daggers. The prince shuddered as they reached for the bangle on his arm. He mumbled something—a prayer—beneath his breath. The ghoul unclasped the armlet.
One moment Loulie saw the high prince. The next, Omar was gone, replaced by a man with bright golden eyes. She stared, uncomprehending, at Prince Mazen.
Imad’s smile faded abruptly. “What trickery is this?”
The man in front of her was undeniably the bumbling, curious prince she’d rescued in the souk. The sheltered storyteller yearning for adventure. The only royal whose company Loulie had found tolerable.
No matter how many times she blinked, Prince Mazen remained. The stories, the softness around the edges—it hadn’t made sense to her. Until now.
This whole time, she’d been traveling with the wrong prince.
The prince did not answer, only eyed Imad warily.
“But how?” Imad reached forward, as if to touch him.
Many things happened then.
Aisha bint Louas, who’d been keeled over on the ground, suddenly lunged toward one of the ghouls. She stole one of her blades back and lopped off its head. There was a blur of movement as she swung her shamshir at Imad. And then—