“But I don’t—”
“You are the most courageous person I know, Loulie al-Nazari. Without you, I would still be aimlessly wandering the desert, lost in my grief. You are not weak. That is why I follow where you walk: because I trust you.” His expression softened. “What happened to your family—I truly am sorry. Loulie…”
She did not realize she had started crying again until Qadir ran a thumb over her cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “I would never have followed your family’s trail if I’d known someone was tracking me. I was only walking where the compass bade me to go. I was…”
“Lost?” Loulie rubbed at her eyes. “Yes, I know.” She forced herself to look him in the eyes. To hold his gaze. “It’s not your fault.”
Something inside of her released with the words, leaving her feeling—not empty, but deflated. Not weak, but vulnerable. She could have turned away then. Could have heeded the voice in her mind that said, You should let him go, but she realized she did not want to. She wanted to stay with Qadir. And Qadir—he could have left many times. But he was still here.
“You’re not going to disappear on me again, are you?”
Qadir never broke her gaze. “No.”
“Even if the compass leads you somewhere else?”
“I told you before, didn’t I? We are connected. The compass led me to you, and it is with you I shall stay until destiny demands we part ways.”
“You make it sound like it’s not your choice to stay or go.”
“Some things are out of our control. You know that just as well as I. All we can do is make choices based on the cards fate deals us. But so long as fate allows me to stay with you, I will not leave you, Loulie. That is a promise.”
It was the most Qadir-like answer, and it made her laugh despite herself. It was more a choking sound than a chuckle, but it was enough to make her smile. “I will kick your ass if you lie to me again, Qadir.”
Qadir shrugged. “Fair enough.” He stood and held out his hand.
In response, Loulie grabbed his tunic up off the ground and threw it at him. “Put your shirt on. You’re indecent.” She gathered her own layers as she glanced down at the city, which, after everything that had happened, suddenly seemed more energetic. More inviting.
“Loulie. Something for your troubles.” Qadir was holding something out to her. Her heart lifted at the sight of the two-faced coin.
“I didn’t realize you had more than one,” she said as she took it from him.
Qadir pulled his tunic over his head with a shrug. “You never asked. But this is the last one, so do not lose it.”
Loulie looked at the gold. Is Qadir telling the truth about wanting to stay with me?
She flipped the coin. It came down on the human side. She stifled a sigh of relief. “Fine. Let’s go. We’ve wasted enough time.”
Qadir raised a brow. “Time to make some gold?”
Loulie grinned through her tears. “Yes. Let’s go sell a relic.”
55
AISHA
Aisha had never liked Tawil. No, dislike was insufficient. Hate was more accurate. She’d hated Tawil ever since Omar had made him a thief. He was an insufferably cocky bastard who killed jinn for glory rather than justice. A show-off who made every murder a spectacle.
This kill was, like the others, a performance. Tawil took the jinn boy into the souk, bled him out in front of an audience, and afterward, had the audacity to bow. Worse, people clapped for him. Before, Aisha would have found this reception annoying. Now it made a deep, dark rage boil in her blood. She blamed the Resurrectionist, whose hatred fueled her own.
What a despicable human, she hissed in Aisha’s mind. We ought to kill him.
“Don’t tempt me,” Aisha murmured beneath the applause of the crowd.
Afterward, Tawil returned to speak with them. When he asked Aisha why their plan—Omar and Mazen’s switch—had gone awry, Aisha simply said, “There have been some unexpected circumstances.” Tawil barely acknowledged the prince. In fact, he insisted that he and Aisha finish their conversation somewhere more private.
“Thieves’ business” was the excuse he gave Mazen.
The prince’s aggravation was apparent in the dip of his lips. Aisha was almost disappointed when he didn’t object. She’d become convinced he was growing a backbone, but perhaps not.
After promising to find the prince later, Aisha followed Tawil through the souk and across a bridge to another sector of Ghiban. It was easy to keep track of him in the crowds; the city’s separate, capacious isles were easier to navigate than Madinne’s clustered tiers and Dhyme’s winding streets. Though the central souk was the most thriving, each district contained shops and a residential area, making it easier for travelers to stock up on equipment and find accommodations.