She had woken to yet another invitation this morning, to the promise that Ahmed would introduce her to friends of his—potential clients—before she left. Loulie didn’t care about collecting bloodstained gold from jinn killers. In fact, she avoided selling to them when she could. No, there would be no sales tonight. She just missed having the freedom to refuse a deal that didn’t strike her fancy. Tonight, she would wrest back some control of her life.
Qadir sighed. “Last night was pathetic.” When Loulie glared at him, he snorted and said, “There it is again. The murderous look. You don’t look fine.”
“I don’t believe I asked for your opinion.” They rounded a corner and entered the jewelers’ street, where merchants showcased gold and silver trinkets beneath glass cases. Loulie’s eyes flickered absently over necklaces and rings inlaid with sapphires and rubies, over large golden bangles and precious chains that held tiny pearls. Each display was dazzlingly bright beneath the lanterns, enticing up until the moment the jeweler named their absurd price.
Gods help the poor fools who don’t know how to haggle, she thought.
They were nearing the center of Dhyme, where Ahmed’s residence was located amidst a cluster of pretentious mansions, when Qadir stepped in front of her. “This is your last chance. Are you sure you do not want me to accompany you?”
“Yes.” She crossed her arms. “I don’t need you here for a civil discussion, Qadir. I’d much rather you track those rumors about the assassin in black.”
Qadir sighed. “Rumors that will no doubt amount to nothing.”
“It’s still a better way to spend your time. You don’t have to coddle me.” It was what she had been telling him all day. To convince him or herself, she wasn’t sure.
Qadir gave her a hard look. When she didn’t break under his stare, he eventually relented. After he left, she turned toward Ahmed’s residence and took a deep breath.
Ahmed bin Walid is just a man. I don’t need him. She repeated the words in her mind as his guards led her through the courtyard. She heard Ahmed’s guests before she saw them. There were a dozen of them seated around a carpet in the diwan—hunters dressed in expensive silks and jewelry. All wore weapons beneath their layers of finery.
Loulie spared a glance at her surroundings and noted the space had been cleared in her absence. Gone were the stage and the luxurious furniture from the night before. Now there was only the carpet and the decadent killers who sat around it. Ahmed bin Walid sat at the farthest end of the rug. He was in modest clothing today: a simple beige tunic and pants, with a dark blue scarf draped across his shoulders. When he saw her, he smiled—the same familiar smile that made her heart sink and leap. “And so the guest of honor arrives. Welcome, Midnight Merchant.” He gestured to the vacant cushion to his right.
Loulie forced herself to relax as she strode toward him. With an effort, she shoved aside the memory of their intertwined hands and his breath on her neck. She lowered her shoulders and exhaled, releasing a sigh thankfully muffled by the scarf over her mouth as she plopped down on the cushion beside him. “As always, it is a pleasure.” The hunters surveyed her with varying levels of curiosity. One of the men—the youngest, by the look of his face—squinted at her suspiciously. Loulie frowned. “Is something wrong, ya sayyid?”
The hunter flushed. “Forgive me, merchant. You are younger than I expected.”
Loulie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She knew it was not just a matter of youth. Men were praised for being successful at a young age, but a successful woman was a perplexing puzzle. Most men did not know how to respond to her confidence.
She raised a brow. “No, forgive me. I should not have spoken so sharply to a child.”
The hunter’s face burned a deep red when he glared at her. Loulie enjoyed his anger, but she relished the laughter of his companions even more. Even Ahmed was grinning. “One thing you should know about Loulie al-Nazari is that she suffers no insults. Not without reciprocation, anyway.” He glanced around the circle, eyes sparkling. “Well then, it seems we are all here.”
“What of the high prince?” one of the hunters, a grizzled old man with more than a few scars on his face, asked.
Ahmed sighed. “I invited him, but I assume he was too busy to attend.”
Murmurs arose from the group. Loulie wondered at their disgruntlement. Was the prince so close with these men that they expected his presence? Or did they see him as a celebrity?