The entrance burst open, and a rosy-cheeked man stumbled inside.
In a heartbeat, Aisha had grabbed the newly sharpened shamshir off her wall and was approaching with the blade pointed at his chest. The man looked up and stared at her owlishly.
Aisha stared at him in shock. “Prince Mazen?”
The bumbling prince was dressed in a blue-black robe that looked sizes too big for him. His golden eyes were unfocused, and he blinked at her slowly, as if coming out of a daze. Behind him, Samar inched into the room. Aisha shot him a look, but the thief just shrugged. If this was some kind of prank, she was going to kill him.
“O-oh,” the prince said softly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…” He glanced around the room, and Aisha flinched as his gaze fell on her bare-bones surroundings. There was hardly anything to take in—the place was as impersonal as an inn room, with nothing but a bed, a simple table, and a chest for her clothing. The only individual touch was the sheets of henna patterns hanging on the wall. But that didn’t matter. This was still her room. However the prince had come to be here, she refused to let him stay.
“Get out.”
The prince’s eyes widened as she stepped toward him. “I’m sorry.” He fiddled nervously with a piece of jewelry on his wrist. “Please, let me explain…”
Aisha was feet away from him when she stopped, noticing his bracelet—the jewel-studded bangle Omar had shown her days ago, when he’d come to her with his bizarre request to accompany his brother on a journey. Her eyes settled again on the prince’s face. His lips were curled in an all-too-familiar smirk that did not belong to Prince Mazen.
With an exaggerated bow, he unclasped the bangle from his arm, and between one blink and the next, he was suddenly Omar. The robe was no longer ill fitting, and his eyes were bright with amusement. “What do you think? I make a convincing Prince Mazen, no?”
Aisha returned his smile with a scowl. She had not been expecting Omar until after midnight, when his dinner was over. And she definitely hadn’t been expecting him in disguise.
She shoved him in the shoulder. “I should have stabbed out your eye.”
Samar laughed from the doorway. The big man leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his black tunic. “If it makes you feel any better, he put on the act for all of us. Most of us were fooled.” His dark eyes crinkled with his teasing smile. “Present company excluded. I thought it’d be worth losing an eye to see your reaction.”
Aisha pointed at the door. “I’ll throw you out the window if you don’t leave right now.”
Samar fluttered his lashes at her. “Touchy as always.” He was reaching for the door when she noticed something on his arm—a jagged gash so colorless it looked like a crack in his skin.
“What in nine hells did you do to yourself?”
When Samar only blinked at her in confusion, the prince shook his head and said, “The fool got cut up by a jinn on his way back from a hunt yesterday.”
Samar set a hand on the wound. “Ah, right. I killed the beast, but not before it injured me. It wasn’t my most heroic moment.” He smiled sheepishly. “I was actually about to rebandage it when the prince showed up with… that face. He’s been a terrible distraction.”
Aisha looked skeptically at the wound. “You didn’t mend the cut with jinn blood before it scabbed?”
Samar sighed. “I’d rather not have that vile stuff in my veins. But good thing I have thick skin, sah? Helpful for our occupation.” He cast a look over his shoulder as he exited the room. “Omar told me you agreed to go on his little mission. Good luck out there, little thief. We’ll sing your praises when you return.”
He tipped his head in salute before shutting the door behind him. Aisha scoffed as she placed her shamshir back on the wall beside its twin. “Sing my praises for what? I won’t be doing anything but keeping a pathetic prince safe.” She returned to her window alcove, where her henna brushes and jar still lay. She set them aside as Omar sank onto the pillows across from her.
He arched a brow. “You underestimate the importance of your task. Besides, you did threaten to stab me in the throat if I recruited you into the qaid’s army. I thought sending you out with my brother would be a more pleasant alternative for both of us.”
“You thought correctly.” She rested her drying arms on her knees and turned her gaze to the view outside her window. From her tilted tower room, she could see the whole city—even the distant lights of the lower quarter. It was strange to think she had been living on those streets nine years ago. That it had been where she tried to pick Omar’s pockets. He could have hanged her for the offense. Instead, he had named her the first of his forty thieves.