The ground groaned and shuddered. She nearly lost her footing as Qadir burned sand inches from her feet. The landscape collapsed, opening up into a massive hole. The second jinn shapeshifted into a bird and flew away before he fell. The one that had faced Qadir with a sword and ground-shifting magic was not so lucky; his scream faded as he tumbled into darkness.
“Qadir!” She sent him a severe look across the hole. Don’t die.
His brow furrowed. You too. He turned to the next battle, shamshir in hand.
Loulie returned her attention to the fighting hordes. Most of the jinn were battling each other—Aisha bint Louas was reanimating every corpse and forcing it to face its once comrades. Loulie could see Rijah as well, tearing and smashing their way through bodies as if they were walls to be destroyed. She used that chaos to her advantage, skirting the edges of the battle and ducking beneath blades in her search for Omar.
She’d just spotted him fighting a corpse when she crashed into someone. She stepped back, flaming knife raised, and saw—nothing.
But then the air in front of her shimmered and parted, and Loulie inexplicably saw golden eyes peering at her through some tear in the world.
“Mazen?” She stared at him.
He opened his mouth to respond, but the words pitched into a scream. “Behind you!” She turned to see a bloodied thief holding a sword inches from her face. He was too close to parry. Too close to block. She squeezed her eyes shut.
And eased them open when the strike did not come. She saw the thief on the ground, struggling against an invisible force.
Mazen. He was invisible, but she could hear him praying beneath his breath.
She lunged toward the fallen thief with her dagger. Its fire was useless against the jinn, but the blade still cut. Right into the jinn’s chest. The jinn retaliated by lashing out at her with his knife. Loulie caught the strike in her arm. Pain blossomed beneath her skin.
Then, abruptly, she and the jinn were both whisked off the ground. A heartbeat later, she collapsed back to the dirt, Qadir’s knife beside her. She looked up and saw the thief. And she saw the gigantic bird clutching him in its talons. “AFWAN,” Rijah said in a loud, booming voice that dripped with disdain. Loulie looked away as they tore the jinn to shreds.
“Shukran,” Mazen called up weakly as the Shapeshifter flew away. The prince turned and approached her, half his face unveiled. It was an eerie sight.
She spoke before pride clogged her throat. “Shukran.” For saving me.
Mazen blinked, nodded. “My brother—you promised me revenge.”
She hesitated. It was strange to see her own vengeance reflected back at her in the eyes of a softhearted storyteller. Violence does not suit him, she thought, but she shoved the thought away. It did not suit anyone.
“Stay behind me.” She made her way back into the fight. When she glanced over her shoulder, the prince had disappeared, but he was close enough she could hear his breathing.
Omar was everywhere and nowhere. Sometimes he grinned at her mockingly from a distance. Other times he was in the thick of battle, disappearing moments before his opponents struck him. An illusion, Loulie realized.
She cast a look over her shoulder at the crumbling landscape. Qadir stood in the center of the chaos, tendrils of smoke unrolling from his body as he faced his opponents with his blade. Though he was still burning holes into the sand, the reinforcements were never-ending, and it was clear his strength was waning. Who were these jinn the prince was working with? How had he found them in the first place?
“You look lost, al-Nazari.” Loulie whirled to see Omar standing behind her, a patronizing grin on his lips. “Why not use that compass of yours to find me?” He chuckled at the surprise on her face. “Oh yes, Aisha told me all about your magic.”
Loulie flinched. In all this chaos, she had forgotten about the compass. That she’d left it with Mazen. She nearly cast a look over her shoulder but stopped herself. If Omar was suggesting it, it had to be a trap.
“No? Then try your luck.” The prince raised his hands.
Loulie ran toward him, brandishing the flaming dagger. Just as it had before, Qadir’s blade went right through him. Omar chuckled as she pitched forward. She fell, and when she looked up, there were three of him standing around her in a circle, each with his black knife angled at her.
“Goodbye, merchant,” they said in a voice that echoed three times over. Loulie fell to her knees just fast enough to avoid the arc of their blades. Her eyes slid to the sandy ground.
To the single reflection of Omar looming above her.