And she could not afford to question things, not now.
She squinted at a blur of motion on the horizon and blinked a few times to make sure she was not seeing things. But no, there was the shadow. As it drew closer, Aisha saw it was Tawil riding toward her. A falcon rested on his shoulder, but the moment he stopped at the cave, the bird flitted to the ground. It plucked at the bangle hanging from its leg, and then it transformed into a man. A man Aisha respected. A man she feared.
Instinctually, she got down on one knee and dipped her head.
“What’s this? You know better than to bow to me, Aisha. Rise.” When she looked up, Prince Omar was smiling at her. He hardly looked like royalty in his simple tunic and pants. But he did look the part of a thief with the belt of daggers around his waist.
“Are you not the sultan now? I ought to show you the proper respect.”
Omar laughed. “How can I be sultan when I am journeying with the Midnight Merchant?” His eyes glittered with mirth. “No, it will be weeks before the honor passes to me.”
Aisha rose to her feet. Normally, she could look Omar in the eye without batting a lash. Now she found it difficult to hold his gaze. “I… lost the bangle,” she murmured.
Omar held up his relic. “A small sacrifice. I have its twin. Besides.” He stepped forward, that easygoing smile on his face as he reached toward her. “Junaid and Tawil told me you have something far more valuable.” He pushed away her scarf. Aisha was aware of the coolness of the collar around her throat.
Omar touched a finger to the relic.
Aisha became inexplicably, violently sick. The world blurred. She closed her eyes with a hiss. No, the Resurrectionist said. Look.
Aisha forced her eyes open.
And saw a phantom. A beautiful woman with soft brown eyes stood behind Omar, watching Aisha over his shoulder. Aisha did not know her, and yet she recognized her.
Once, they had been friends. While they both dealt in memories, Aisha—the Resurrectionist—had been death, and this woman’s magic had been life. I love humans, she’d once said. They are the gods’ creatures, same as us, so why should we harm them?
Because they seek to destroy us, the Resurrectionist had replied.
But her friend, ever the pacifist, had refused to believe this. They only fear us because we are more powerful. If we show them we are equals, they will not harm us.
And they had tried. Their king had tried. But the humans had abused his kindness. They had slaughtered jinn and stolen relics, and still Aisha’s friend had said, I do not believe they are irredeemable. Those had been the last words she spoke to her before their world sank and she disappeared forever. Later, the Resurrectionist felt her friend’s death from a distance. But she had never known where or what her relic was.
Aisha stared. The ifrit—the Mystic, she had once been called—smiled at her sadly.
And then she was gone, dissipated into thin air as Omar drew his hand away. “Have you heard a single thing I’ve said, Aisha?”
She swallowed. “Yes. I was just… distracted by the voices.”
Omar raised a brow. “Voices?”
“The dead,” Aisha clarified. “The relic lets me hear their voices.”
Omar stared at her. She knew that look; it was the stoic fa?ade he wore to stop others from gauging his reaction. Aisha forced herself to hold his gaze.
Why was an ifrit following him? He had promised he would tell them when he found a king’s relic. And she knew Omar; he would never allow anyone to tail him, not even a ghost.
“In my personal opinion, sayyidi…” Tawil smirked. “I don’t think bint Louas can handle the relic. Even in Ghiban, she was a little foggy-eyed.”
Aisha scowled. “Me, foggy-eyed? You’re the one who had their treasure stolen.”
She could still remember his face when he’d apprehended her the morning after the merchant’s sale. He’d been panicked, stuttering over his words as he cursed her. Now his face contorted again as he glared at her.
“That’s because you—”
“Enough.” Omar’s voice was soft but dangerous, and Tawil stopped talking. “We have no time to bicker. I’ve called for reinforcements, and I do not want to be late for our rendezvous.” He frowned. “You know how long I have searched for this lamp. I will wait no longer.”
She did know. Omar had scavenged this area for years, looking for the relic. But it had not been until just recently, when the sultan commanded Prince Hakim to chart the location based on Amir’s writings, that Omar had finally pinpointed its location. Aisha wondered if he’d held off killing the sultan for those coordinates. If he’d waited patiently for an opportunity to frame his brother for his murder.