A shadow passed over Omar’s face as he looked at her. “Not all of us are lucky enough to die martyrs. For most, death is only ever happenstance. You think you are special, al-Nazari? That your tribe was special? You are all only human. Weak, fallible, and mortal.” His eyes flashed. “Ahmed believed himself to be invincible too. That conviction was his downfall.”
The merchant stiffened, her face going dangerously blank. “What did you do to Ahmed?”
“The wali was too curious for his own good. He thought to sneak around my palace and unravel my plans. He came close.” He sighed. “But even hunters can be cut down.”
Aisha, trapped in her own mind, did not see the merchant shift until it was too late.
Loulie lunged toward Omar, her dagger burning bright with fire as she thrust it forward—
And stabbed the prince in the shoulder.
Aisha was too shocked to move. Fire licked at her king’s clothes and face as he stared at the blade impaled in his shoulder. And then he smiled.
And disappeared.
A relic? Aisha thought at the same time the queen said, His earring. It is ifrit magic.
The merchant fell, still clutching the dagger she had driven into Omar’s shoulder. Aisha whirled at the sound of Omar’s voice, which was coming from her right. “Tell me, bodyguard. Are you the jinn king I sent my thieves to find all those years ago?” The prince stood in front of Qadir, completely unharmed. Aisha stared, uncomprehending.
Qadir did not respond with words. His eyes flashed red as he cut a hand through the air.
And set the prince on fire.
This time, Aisha saw Omar ripple like water before he disappeared. She startled when he appeared right beside her. “No matter.” He smiled. “My thieves may have failed me then, but I will have your relic now.” In a single motion, he pulled a dagger from his sleeve and ran it across his palm, drawing… black blood?
A memory sparked in her mind of black blood oozing from Prince Mazen’s wound. He had been in Omar’s body then. Aisha had assumed it was a side effect of the relic, but there was no bangle on Omar’s arm when he pressed his bloodied hand to the lamp.
There was a beat of silence, followed by a rush of intense heat. Aisha braced her feet as a dense smoke burst from the lamp and swept across the area. She could barely see, could barely breathe. But she could hear Omar’s voice beneath the crackling storm. “Jinn king!” he yelled. “You are bound to me and you will serve me.”
All at once the smoke withdrew. Aisha gasped air in through her lungs as she looked up.
The creature standing beside Omar was a silhouette of smoke, features undefined except for its eyes, which were a turquoise blue that glittered like diamonds. Its body was made up of undulating storm clouds, and the fire pulsing beneath its skin flashed like lightning.
Aisha dared a glance at the others. The merchant and the prince both looked spellbound, staring at the ifrit with their mouths hanging open.
Tawil was in a similar state of shock. “The Shapeshifter,” he murmured.
The title made Aisha’s skin prickle; she recognized it.
Omar turned to Qadir, who had risen to his feet and was pulling Tawil’s arrows from his skin. Silver blood gushed from his wounds as they began to heal. “Rijah,” he said softly.
Rijah. The Resurrectionist’s voice was a sad echo, her grief a hole in Aisha’s heart.
The mass of smoke shuddered at the name.
“Jinn of the lamp,” Omar said. “I command you to kill the jinn king before me.”
Without preamble, the creature of smoke pounced, transforming into a panther that knocked Qadir to the ground. Qadir grabbed the panther’s jaws as it lunged for his throat, but his hands were quivering, his face blanched with terror.
The merchant stumbled to her feet and rushed toward him. Unthinkingly, Aisha gave chase. It was easier to act than to think. Easier to follow the plan than to question it.
The Resurrectionist’s voice brushed through her empty mind. And here I thought you had returned to life to carve your own path.
“My path, not yours,” Aisha snapped. She gained on the merchant until she was close enough to tackle her from behind. She pressed a sword to her throat. Loulie struggled, but to no avail. Together, they watched Qadir battle the ifrit. When he conjured a wall of flame, the ifrit pushed past it in the form of a great, flaming bird and rushed at his face with its talons, shrieking as Qadir held out a hand and threw a gust of wind at it.
“Give it up, merchant.” She heard Tawil’s voice behind her. “Sit back and enjoy the show. The Shapeshifter is sure to give us a good one.”