“You need to be alive to do that.” He glanced over her shoulder. Omar was recovering his balance on solid land. His reinforcements stood around him, weapons drawn, awaiting orders. Somewhere in the distance, fires raged. Aisha bint Louas was a blur of color, hiding behind an undead army. “Please,” Qadir said, voice breaking.
The harried rukh landed beside them again, Mazen on its back. It shuddered with exhaustion as it lowered a wing.
“I trust you,” Loulie said softly. “Promise not to die.”
Qadir leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers. One last time, she felt his warmth envelop her. “I promise,” he murmured. And then he drew away. “Take care of them, Rijah. And… I’m sorry.”
The great bird bowed its head. “IT SHALL BE DONE.” Their bright eyes glinted with impatience as Loulie stepped onto their wing and settled on their back. She fixed her eyes on Omar as the bird rose into the air. Held the earring up for him to see, then tucked it into her pocket. She wasn’t running. She was simply retreating to live another day.
“Wait.” Mazen shifted. Loulie followed his gaze and saw Aisha bint Louas standing a short distance away from her undead army, looking at them. “We can’t just leave her here,” he whispered. “We have to save her.”
Aisha bint Louas stared at them a moment longer.
Then she turned and walked back toward her army.
Loulie blinked. “I don’t think she wants to be saved.”
Arrows cut through the air before the prince could protest again. Rijah swerved to avoid them, and she and Mazen both barely managed to stay on their back.
“HOLD ON,” the gigantic bird screeched.
Loulie had just enough time to grasp the rukh’s quills before it plummeted down one of the holes. The last thing she saw before the world disappeared was Qadir, facing the gathering army with his blade. And then there was darkness, and a terrible heat was chasing them down the void. Mazen clasped his hands over hers. Loulie gripped them back.
They fell and fell, the sand following them down, blocking the light and their way back. They fell for a long time. So long Loulie feared there was no end. But then—sand. Blessed, blessed sand. Ground beneath their feet. An end.
Or, perhaps, a beginning.
70
LOULIE
At the bottom of the hole lay a cave so cold it immediately leeched the heat from Loulie’s body. She was shuddering as she slid off the rukh, the tears that had been running down her cheeks freezing as soon as she fell to the ground. Mazen followed, his face smeared with blood.
He stared past Loulie at the hole, gaze blank.
“ARE YOU STUPID?” the great bird bellowed. “MOVE.”
On cue, there came a low groaning sound, and then the sand that had been chasing them down the hole rushed toward them in a torrent. Rijah swept them out of the way with a flap of their wing. Loulie fell against the cave wall and watched as the sand piled, the mound growing higher and higher until it was a column that went to and through the ceiling.
The bird loosed a sigh. “HUMAN FOOLS.” They began to shrink, their quills softening into skin, their body collapsing until it was human shaped. All of this happened in moments. Loulie was amazed when the ifrit cracked their now very human neck and groaned. They had shifted into the form of a man with high cheekbones, fierce eyebrows, and long brown hair. The injuries hidden beneath their feathers were now gory badges somewhat concealed by plain garments. Rijah saw her looking at the wounds and scowled.
“What? You look like shit too,” they said.
“I didn’t say anything,” she snapped back. But the fight had left her body. When she thought about Qadir fighting a horde of jinn…
“Are you coming, humans?” Rijah had walked on ahead and paused only to glance back at them. A blue flame slithered between their fingers like a snake. The jinn raised a brow. “I was commanded by my king to watch over you, but I do not intend to baby you.”
Loulie was preparing another retort when the weight of Rijah’s words sank in. “What do you mean, king?” The word was a whisper on her lips. “You’re all jinn kings. You’re all ifrit.”
Rijah looked at her like she was stupid. “What, did he not tell you?”
Secrets, secrets. So many secrets. She had thought Qadir had revealed everything to her when he confessed that he was an ifrit. But now she remembered the tale he’d told about the seven jinn kings. He had fooled her into thinking there were seven ifrit, with an eighth king to rule them. But the human story had always been about seven jinn.