Imad spun, clutching at something hidden beneath his cloak. Mazen saw a chain hanging from his neck, a glimmer of gold between his fingers. An amulet.
“Attend me,” Imad whispered as he grasped the amulet. His nervous gaze swept across the room. When he next spoke, the guttural syllables of the ghoul language came from his mouth. But the ghouls surrounding the perimeter did not respond. They were frozen, their heads tilted eerily, as if they were listening for something.
There was movement. Not from the fire, which danced wildly on the sconces as if possessed, but from the knife still in Imad’s hand. Mazen saw a pair of blazing eyes blink at him from the surface of the blade.
Behind them, the entrance doors slammed shut, and the fire in the room dimmed, sighed, and died, plunging them into darkness. The chamber went eerily silent.
And then an invisible force swept through the room like a whirlwind, pressing the air from Mazen’s lungs. Chaos unfurled in every direction. Mazen heard the slap of hurried footsteps, the hiss of murmured curses. He heard Imad, speaking into the discord with Omar’s voice. “What sorcery is this? Who—” The thief gasped. “No. No!”
Somewhere nearby, there came an inhuman howl. Mazen heard the chattering of ghouls in the darkness. Shuffling. Tearing. And then a scream.
Imad was mumbling what sounded like a fervent prayer beneath his breath. Mazen heard the thief stumble, and—something metal clattered to the floor.
Imad’s blade?
Mazen reached for it. In his grip it was no longer crescent shaped but, there—a pair of red eyes blinked at him from the faintly glowing surface. Well? said a voice in his mind. Are you just going to sit there? Mazen recognized the voice. The eyes. It was impossible and yet…
Not impossible. Jinn do not die like humans.
He squinted into the dark. “Al-Nazari? Lou—”
Fingers wrapped around his wrist from behind. Mazen whirled in a panic. He relaxed only when, in the dim light coming from the blade, he saw Loulie staring at him with glassy eyes. The moment she saw the knife, she clawed it out of his hands.
Mazen took in the blood on her scarves, her robe. She had never looked so small. So exhausted.
“We need to get out of here,” he said gently. “Can you move?”
A muscle feathered in her jaw. She shook her head.
Mazen glanced at her feet, but he was unable to see anything beneath the bloodied hem of her robe. He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m going to pick you up, okay?”
The merchant said nothing as he curved an arm under her legs and set a hand on her back; she only pressed a palm to his chest as he rose. He wasn’t sure if he or she was trembling more as he turned and stumbled through the dark. The blade, as if to conceal them, had stopped emitting light, making it impossible to see anything—including the exit.
The darkness was impenetrable. Mazen barely managed a few steps before he froze, overwhelmed by the invisible chaos. He heard ghouls wailing, men yelling, swords screeching—
The merchant nudged him, then pressed something round into his hands. Mazen ran his fingers over glass, wood—a compass? He remembered the instrument in Imad’s hands. How in the world had Loulie taken it from him? Before he could ask, a strange thing happened.
The wood beneath his fingers began to warm, and a familiar song pounded through his head. The stars, they burn the night and guide the sheikh’s way…
The world faded. He was drowning. Chained to a boulder, falling beneath the water—
The memory abruptly dissipated.
My apologies. He stopped breathing when he heard the voice in his head. I thought you were someone else, said the Queen of Dunes. I confess, all human men look the same to me.
His mind spun. The voice definitely belonged to the Queen of Dunes, but—how? Had Imad stolen the collar from the merchant’s bag and brought it with him? The question was replaced with a more perplexing realization: for some reason, he suddenly knew how to navigate his way through the dark room. It was as if there were an arrow in his mind, pointing him toward the exit.
By the time he stumbled into the doors, the magic was making his blood hum. He was dizzy as the merchant took the compass back from him and reached for the door—and then drew away with a soundless gasp as the blade in her hand brightened, revealing one of Imad’s men, standing guard.
He blinked, discombobulated, in the hazy light. “You think you can get past me, Prince?” The man raised his weapon. It was at that exact moment the doors behind him burst open. The killer was knocked off his feet and stabbed in the back. Aisha stood behind him, clutching the sword driven through his chest.