They had just stepped into the tavern when the prince froze. Aisha followed his gaze to the staircase, where Loulie al-Nazari was descending in her brown robe. Her face was unpainted, her eyes cracked with red as if she hadn’t slept. Her bodyguard was nowhere in sight.
Aisha glanced at the prince. The expression of longing on his face was almost embarrassing to witness. When the merchant approached, he opened his mouth as if to say something but then just ended up offering a cordial nod as she walked out the door without acknowledging them. He looked crestfallen.
Aisha nudged him. “Your lovesickness is showing, sayyidi.”
The prince flushed. “I’m not…”
But she was uninterested in his excuse and already walking toward the stairs. By the time he caught up to her, she’d used a spare key to enter his room, and spread Prince Hakim’s map on his bed. “I hope you didn’t embarrass yourself too badly in front of the wali.” She pointed to the room’s desk, and he set his satchel atop and sighed.
“If you were so worried, you should have been there,” he mumbled. “It would have been more productive than sulking on the stairs.”
“Omar did not send me here to babysit you.”
“No? That’s what he told me. ‘Leave the fighting to Aisha,’ he said. ‘She’ll protect you.’”
“I think you’re confusing bodyguard with nursemaid. Now, come.” She patted the edge of the bed. “Let’s get this over with.”
The prince obediently sat as she outlined what would be the fastest route to their final destination. She started by pointing out settlements and Bedouin campsites they would be able to rest at during their upcoming ride to Ghiban, the city of waterfalls. Aisha was impressed; Prince Hakim’s renderings of the cliffs and rivers were so detailed they could have been pulled from her memories. She paused, finger hovering over Ghiban. “Interesting.”
Prince Mazen looked up. “What is?”
“Your brother.” When the prince simply blinked at her, she raised a brow and said, “How is it that a trapped man knows the desert so well?”
The question seemed to take him by surprise. He squinted at the map as if he could unearth an answer from between the layers of lines and colors. Then, softly, he said, “Before my brother came to Madinne, he traveled the desert with his mother’s tribe. He’s seen much more of the world than I.” A fond, distinctly un-Omar-like smile tugged at his lips.
Aisha looked at him skeptically. It was impossible for a mapmaker to draw from memory when the landscape changed so often. After all, new oases sprang from the blood of slain jinn every day, and human villages were wiped off the map in the blink of an eye. Once, before it had been burned to the ground, her own village had been on a map like this.
Aisha shook off the memory of Sameesh before it could settle. Prince Hakim’s cartography skills were none of her concern. All that mattered was that his map was reliable.
She returned her attention to the route. “There will be fewer oases once we leave Ghiban, but there are caves built into the cliffs that will provide good shelter.” She traced the cliffs to the outskirts of the Western Sandsea. “The last outpost is right here, at the edge of the Sandsea.” She circled the area with her finger. “Your brother has marked caves that might lead beneath the Sandsea, but there’s nothing conclusive. We’ll have to search by foot when we arrive.”
The prince nodded absently. He was taking in the map like a starving man took in a feast. She forgot that while this trip was just another journey for her, the prince had never ventured far from Madinne. That this was, more or less, an introduction to a whole new world for him.
“So if Dhyme is here”—he pinned the city with his finger—“then the ruin where we found the relic is—” He abruptly went silent, expression morphing from one of wonder to horror.
Aisha was immediately suspicious. “What’s that expression for? You look guilty.”
He swallowed. “Guilty? No, the only thing I’m guilty of is injuring the merchant, and she’s fine now.”
Aisha watched him carefully. “You’re still thinking about that? It could be worse than injuring someone, you know.” She raised her brows. “You could be expected to kill them.”
“That’s different. You choose to kill jinn.”
The comment, said so flippantly, should not have bothered her. But perhaps because the memory of Sameesh was so raw, the words caused her thoughts to scatter.