And yet despite his resolve to apprehend his brother, he still somehow lost him.
When Mazen turned the bend into the rose garden, Omar had vanished. Mazen was baffled, but nonetheless determined. He rushed down the pathways between the flowers, following them through an orchard filled with various fruit-bearing trees, until he reached the sparring pavilion, a large wooden platform surrounded on all sides by tree-shaped columns.
At first, he saw nothing. But then he backtracked and realized there were people standing by the platform. A cloaked woman and, in front of her, Omar. Mazen mentally chided himself for his nearsightedness as he approached.
The two were in the middle of a conversation when Omar abruptly turned toward him, lips curved. “Why, if it isn’t my adventurous little brother.”
It was an effort to return Omar’s smile. “Salaam, Omar. Who’s your friend?” He glanced at his brother’s female companion, whose face was hidden beneath her hood. Mazen could make out dark brown eyes, fierce eyebrows, and an aquiline nose.
“This is Aisha bint Louas,” Omar said. “She is one of my best thieves.”
Mazen blanched. This woman, a hunter? One of Omar’s forty thieves? Mazen had seen the thieves in passing but never spoken to them. In fact, he tried to avoid them at all costs. Most of the time, this was easily accomplished. The thieves did not participate in court life; they were simply here to report to Omar.
Mazen had definitely never seen this woman before. He would have remembered her piercing stare. He put a hand to his chest and bowed. “It is a pleasure.”
Aisha raised a brow. “Is it?”
Mazen blinked, at a loss for how to respond.
Omar just laughed. “Aisha is also my most honest thief. She can cut a man down with her words just as easily as with her knives.” He waved a hand. “You are dismissed, Aisha.”
Aisha bobbed her head and walked off. When she was gone, Omar leaned against a pavilion column and smirked. “Do not take offense, Mazen. Aisha dislikes most men.”
“But not you?”
Omar shrugged. “It hardly matters whether she likes me. She is an excellent hunter and obeys my orders without hesitation. That is all that matters. But…” He cocked a brow. “You are not here to speak about Aisha. What do you want?”
Mazen took a deep, stilted breath. “I want to know why you returned early today.”
“Has your memory failed you? I told you I found all my marks. I have no reason to remain in the desert after my job is done.” He grinned. “I am sure you had a much more interesting day than I. You told me you were going to the souk to find a storyteller, but that is not the whole truth, is it? There was a woman.”
Mazen stared at him. “What?”
“You must have left quite the impression for her to stalk you through the streets.”
Mazen was beginning to feel faint. “What are you talking about?”
“A woman followed you into the noble quarter. I thought you’d broken her heart, the way she was chasing you.”
Layla. Or—the shadow jinn? Mazen shook off his fear before it grew roots. He focused on Omar’s words. What they implied. “You were following me,” he said. “Because you were tracking a jinn, weren’t you?”
Omar didn’t even bat an eyelash. “A valiant pastime, yes?”
Mazen could hear the thud of his heartbeat in his ears. “You knew there was a jinn in the city when I left the palace. You could have told me it was out for your blood. For our blood.”
Omar shrugged. “I may have forgotten to mention it.”
Mazen’s fear burned away, replaced with an anger that shot through his veins like ice. He moved without thinking, grabbing the collar of his brother’s tunic and shoving him into the column. “This is no laughing matter, you ass. I could have died!”
His hand quivered as he looked into his brother’s eyes. Even now, they sparkled with amusement. Mazen wanted to punch him.
“On the contrary, I find it quite entertaining.” Omar set his hand atop Mazen’s. Mazen flinched at the coldness of his fingers. “Seeing you angry is always a good time, akhi. But, as always, you are concerned about the wrong things. Let me worry about the jinn. You should worry about Father finding out what happened. Imagine what he would do if he realized that you had not only left the palace but were attacked in doing so.”
Omar pried Mazen’s fingers from his tunic. “You think he would give you a second chance? No, he will do to you what he has done to Hakim. He will make you a prisoner in this place. There would be no escape, not even with guards.”