The musing made a wild terror rise up inside her. “No,” Loulie said. It was her longing for that fragile, frightening vulnerability that pulled her away. “Not tonight.”
She rushed through the crowds and out the diwan before he could call her back.
27
MAZEN
Mazen had never liked Ahmed bin Walid.
His dislike went back many years, to the first time Ahmed had come to Madinne with his father, the then wali of Dhyme. Mazen, only ten years old at the time, had been commanded by his father to watch over Ahmed. He’d taken the responsibility very seriously. Ahmed, who had been a scrawny child of thirteen years with a too-wide smile, had not. Mazen had quickly discovered Ahmed was what people called a free spirit, a sprightly boy who preferred to do anything other than what he was ordered.
Unlike Mazen, who got in trouble for disobeying his father’s orders, Ahmed was never chastened. Every time he disappeared and Mazen tracked him down, the older boy would smile innocently and say, Ya Mazen! I thought you were behind me this whole time! Where have you been? Later, when Ahmed offered that explanation to the adults, they forgave him and turned their ire on Mazen.
Smiles were Ahmed’s preferred currency. With them, he could buy anything he wanted: affections, possessions, even connections. Everyone was taken in by his smiles—everyone except Mazen.
Even now, sitting before Ahmed in Omar’s body, he could not shake his dislike. It was the wali’s godsdamned smile. It was too wide, too bright—a strained, jovial mask. He was wearing that smile now as they sat in his diwan the morning after the gathering and spoke at length about things Mazen did not care about. “You remember the hunter with the sweet tooth? Issa? He came to see me before he traveled north.”
Mazen supposed if he were Omar, he would know what Ahmed was talking about. This was why he pretended to listen, nodding his head and offering a comment when he thought it safe. But his mind was elsewhere. It had been ever since the incident in the dune. He could not stop thinking about the collar. He was still trying to convince Aisha to dispose of it.
Earlier, when he confessed to her that he’d nearly been possessed, Aisha had just rolled her eyes and said, “You are always almost possessed.” She told him that collecting relics for Omar was part of her responsibilities as a thief. And then she ignored him. She was still ignoring him, which was why she had opted to wait for him on the diwan steps rather than join him inside.
“But enough about me.” Ahmed reclined on his divan, lips curled in a satisfied smile. “Tell me about your recent journeys, sayyidi. I see you’ve found a new relic?” Mazen nearly choked on his breath when he realized Ahmed was eyeing the enchanted bangle on his arm.
“If only.” He pressed his fingers to it. “I’m afraid this is just a flashy family heirloom.”
Ahmed laughed—a soft, breezy sound that made Mazen bristle. “And here I thought you favored utility over sentimentality. The only flourish I’ve ever seen you allow yourself is your earring.” He tapped his ear, raised a brow. “Have you traded one piece of jewelry for another?”
Mazen swallowed a nervous laugh. Omar had insisted no one would notice the missing earring, but of course the annoyingly attentive wali of Dhyme was an exception. “You are as sharp-eyed as always. I removed it when we were traveling to the city; we had to weather a sandstorm, and I thought the earring was safer where the elements couldn’t reach it.”
It was a spontaneous and shoddy fiction, so Mazen was relieved when the wali grinned and said, “Ah, a sandstorm. A great way to start a quest, to be sure. I hope the rest of your journey has been more pleasant?”
It’s been hellish. Mazen cleared his throat. “It’s been, ah, tedious.”
“Oh?”
“I told you yesterday. We ran into some trouble on our way here.”
“You told me you had to deal with a troublesome jinn, but didn’t elaborate.” Ahmed leaned forward, arms draped across his knees. Somehow, he managed to make the slouch look refined. “But you must enlighten me! What happened?”
Mazen hesitated. What was the danger in bragging? He had overheard his brother boast to Ahmed about his kills before, after all. He reached into his satchel for the relic, which Aisha had packed with the rest of his belongings in case questions of ownership were asked. They both knew Omar would never have yielded a relic to one of his thieves for safekeeping.
Of course, that didn’t stop Aisha from holding on to the satchel when they weren’t in someone else’s company.