Mazen blinked. “They?”
Qadir shrugged. “Rijah is whatever Rijah wants to be. Man, woman, child, beast, they are all of those things and more.”
It was a novel concept of identity, and Mazen was thoughtful as they lapsed into peaceful silence. The quiet remained as they traveled through gorges and into flat desert plains, where the sun finally made its reappearance. Mazen would have lain down in the sand and basked in its warmth if the others hadn’t been so set on making good time to their destination. He wished he shared their eagerness, but no, all he had to look forward to was some unknowable punishment.
He sat back in his saddle and tried to ingrain the details of this moment into his mind: the clear and endless sky, the shadows of distant tents on the hazy horizon, the hiss and sigh of the ground beneath his horse’s hooves. He even relished the weight of the sand on his clothing and in his boots, knowing it was a testament to his travels.
This is not a story, he told himself. This is reality, and I am living it right now.
Even if his future was dismal, he was determined to make this final reprieve last as long as he could. And so he focused on his surroundings and the awe they inspired in him. He watched as the landscape became awash in the red-gold shades of sunset, and when the sky darkened, he marveled at the shadows, which spread across the desert like ink stains.
There were stars glimmering in the sky by the time they came to an oasis. The merchant and her bodyguard sped ahead, bantering as they raced toward their destination. Mazen held back a sigh as he watched them go. He wished he had that easygoing repartee with Loulie.
“Your jealousy is showing, sayyidi.” Aisha pulled up beside him. She took a swig from her waterskin before handing it to him. He drank to avoid answering.
Afterward, he swiped a hand across his mouth and said, “What do you make of the news from Madinne? Weren’t you all supposed to stop jinn from breaking into the city?”
“That was the plan. Obviously, something’s gone amiss.”
There was another short silence before Mazen said, “I know you and Tawil were discussing something you didn’t want me to overhear. You were talking about a plan—”
“A plan to lead you through the desert in one piece.”
“That’s not what it sounded like. It sounded like Omar was searching for ifrit relics.”
Aisha sighed. “And? Collecting relics for him is one of my responsibilities.”
“Not ifrit relics.” Mazen frowned. “You’re hiding something from me. There has to be a reason my brother is so wary of Ahmed bin Walid. A reason he’s sneaking out as me.”
Aisha mirrored his frown. “It doesn’t matter what you think. I’m not obligated to tell you anything.” She looked down her nose at him, unimpressed, before riding ahead.
Later, after they set up camp, Mazen sat at the edge of the oasis, beneath the shadow of a date tree, and stared at the stars reflected on the water. He thought about how the first time he’d come to such a place, he’d been his brother. Now he’d regressed into Mazen-sometimes-Yousef, a prince so spineless he couldn’t even demand secrets from his own subjects.
“Can’t sleep, Prince?”
He was startled out of his reverie by the merchant, who suddenly stood beside him, gaze trained on the star-speckled water. She didn’t look at him as she said, “Does this remind you of home? Of the lakes in your palace courtyard made from jinn blood?”
“That’s not fair,” he said quietly. “I haven’t killed any jinn. Why do you assume I share my brother’s morals?”
“Why shouldn’t I assume? You’re both liars who share the same father.”
The accusation made his heart sink. He had been hopeful Loulie was beginning to see him as himself, without any masks. But though it was dispiriting, he supposed it was natural that her animosity toward his family colored her opinion of him.
But Loulie surprised him by continuing, “At least, that’s what I would have said before I heard you in the souk.” Her eyes finally settled on him. “My parents used to say a story could reveal the heart of the teller. I see that truth in you. When you shared your mother’s history, I heard her optimism reflected in your words. You are not like Omar.”
Mazen swallowed. Why did it suddenly feel like his heart was in his throat? “I hope not.” His gaze sank to the water. “In any case, I have more in common with Hakim than Omar, and we don’t share any blood at all.”
“Have the two of you always been close?”