She made her way through the upstairs corridor to her apartments, which were in the state she’d left them in. There in the center of the room was the low-rising table where she and Qadir tested their relics and ate their meals together, and there was the divan by the window, where Loulie liked to lounge in the sun. To the right: a series of tome-filled shelves that contained everything from maps to stories to philosophical musings. Her walls were home to a collection of tapestries featuring desert landscapes, and an assortment of rugs, most of which had been purchased from the Bedouin tribes selling out of Madinne’s market, lay scattered on the floor.
It was small, familiar, and comfortable. A good place to rest between ventures.
As Loulie set down the bag of infinite space by the table, her eyes went to the single item on display that belonged to Qadir. It was tucked into a corner, barely noticeable from the door, but there was the shamshir she had purchased for him years ago, mounted on the wall beside the shelves. It was a simple but elegant thing, a steel blade with an ivory grip that had a single red gem on its guard. Qadir rarely wore the blade, preferring a bow when he had to rely on a weapon and couldn’t use magic, but Loulie had never regretted gifting it to him.
It had been the first thing she’d ever purchased for the jinn with her own means. She would always remember his delighted surprise, as well as the uncharacteristically fullmouthed grin that had been on his face when he accepted the blade from her. Those smiles of his were rare, and Loulie felt accomplished when she was able to coax them out of him. Never mind that the blade was mostly used as décor now. Qadir treasured it in his own way, and that was enough.
Loulie closed the door, made her way into the room, and threw herself on the divan by the window. “Home. Finally.” She sighed as she stretched out on the pillows.
“We could have been back sooner, but you insisted on chasing a man around the souk.”
She looked up and saw Qadir looming over her in his human form. As always, he looked unimpressed. “Last I recall, there was a vengeful jinn involved,” she said.
Qadir frowned. “What you did today was dangerous.”
“Yes, I know. You’ve told me a thousand and one times.”
“What did you gain by intervening?”
“I gained nothing, but a man got to keep his life. Though…” She sat up and brushed her curls out of her eyes. “I told you earlier that the shadow jinn said something strange.”
Qadir seated himself on a cushion beside their table. “About the cutthroats in black? It means nothing. Perhaps killers favor the color.”
Loulie glanced out the window. At this time of night, the streets were filled with drunken men—many coming from Dahlia’s tavern. She could hear them downstairs thumping tables and singing loudly, badly.
She swallowed. “Perhaps.” She could not shake the feeling that the jinn had been on the cusp of revealing important information. Loulie had watched her tribe’s murderers die, but no matter how much distance she put between herself and the past, the memories would always be there.
“They are dead, Loulie.” Qadir had been in the middle of organizing their relics; now he stopped to look at her. “I made sure of it.”
His confidence eased the tension in her heart, even if she was still wary. She nodded, then joined him at the table to help sort their inventory. Most of the relics in their bag were unspectacular: an hourglass filled with endless sand; a dusty mirror that offered a reflection of the person one loved most; and a string of beads that, when rubbed together, created a gentle sound that lulled one to sleep.
But there were other, more useful relics too. Loulie’s personal favorite was an orb cushioned between two luminous wings. It glowed when touched and became steadily brighter when she pressed her palm to it. She and Qadir used it to light their way through the desert.
Now she sat sullenly staring at the shadows it cast upon the walls, thinking of everything that had happened today. She considered Prince Omar. If he was so competent a hunter, why had he not captured the shadow jinn before she came to Madinne? Why had he not captured any of the jinn supposedly infesting the city?
“Princes,” Loulie grumbled.
Qadir raised a brow. “I hear Prince Mazen and Prince Hakim are not so terrible.”
“How would anyone know? Neither of them ever leaves the palace.” Loulie folded her arms on the table and set her chin atop them. “Do you think Omar knows the shadow jinn is in Madinne?” She couldn’t stop thinking of his comment about the shadows.