Loulie stared, startled by the prince’s admission. Even Ahmed looked up abruptly. His cheeks were flushed, though whether with embarrassment or relief, Loulie could not tell. “Please, sayyidi, there is no need for that. You did not submit to the jinn. I did.”
The apprehensive wrinkle between Omar’s brows became an irritated crease. “Are you disputing the importance of my account, bin Walid?”
Ahmed stiffened. “No, of course not. I am grateful for your honesty, sayyidi.”
Omar’s lips quirked slightly. “Humility doesn’t suit you.” The half smirk faded as he turned to Loulie. “You, on the other hand, stole the show, al-Nazari. I’m impressed. I’ve never seen anyone wield a dagger so well with an injured hand.”
Her heart halted, shuddered. Shit. She had forgotten about the nonexistent injury. All her focus during the fight had been on keeping her and Ahmed alive.
Why does he have to be so damn observant?
She noticed even Ahmed was looking at her curiously now, his sleep-shadowed eyes flitting to her hand. After a second of hesitation, she raised her bandaged hand and wiggled her fingers. “Jinn blood is always very useful to have on hand.” Her heart thundered so loudly in her chest it seemed impossible no one heard it in the silence. “You didn’t think I would have given the only blood I have to Rasul al-Jasheen?”
“I would think you had no reason to hide the existence of such blood.”
Loulie snorted. She hoped to the gods she wasn’t sweating as much as she feared. “Alert you to an invaluable stash of jinn blood so you could steal it from me? I’m no fool.”
Except she was a fool. She was so much a fool she wanted to laugh at herself.
Omar looked skeptical of her claim, but he mercifully let her excuse go. Their conversation moved from the courtyard to the diwan and then into the corridors as Ahmed offered them provisions for the rest of their trip. The next—and last—city they would pass through was Ghiban, and it would be at least a week before they reached it.
The talk between the three of them was stilted and awkward, filled with silences and forced niceties. Loulie noted a strange tension between the men. She had the impression they were dancing around each other’s words. She didn’t think on it for long; it was of no interest to her. She was, however, very interested in the high prince’s long pauses. They seemed more thoughtful than usual, as if he were carefully considering his reactions before he made them.
She was suddenly reminded of another thing that had bothered her: his behavior during the battle. The prince had not fought; he had watched. It was a perplexing epiphany, and Loulie was resolved to confront him about it.
She never got the opportunity, though.
Prince Omar excused himself before she could demand answers, explaining that he had last-minute preparations to make before they departed that afternoon. After saying his stilted goodbyes to Ahmed, he disappeared, leaving her and the wali alone.
By this time, the ease with which they had conversed had dried up, leaving them bereft of anything to say. So the two of them simply walked—back through the open-air halls and into the courtyard. Loulie noticed Ahmed glance warily at the trees. Most likely, he was remembering the blood that had been spilled beneath them last night. She suspected that even in the future, when those stains were washed off the grass, he would never stop seeing them. What had been an eerie but tranquil place was now a permanent reminder of a once-lived nightmare.
She could not conceive of the breathtaking shame that would warp Ahmed’s heart every time he entered his estate and saw these trees. Had Qadir been here, he would have told her the wali deserved to know the fear of his victims. Perhaps he was right. But still, that did not stop Loulie from pitying him.
They were nearing the edge of the copse when Ahmed at last turned toward her. “I am sorry your visit has been so unpleasant, Loulie al-Nazari.”
She blinked. “No, I should be the one apologizing. Had the prince and I not brought the relic to Dhyme, none of this would have happened.”
Ahmed shook his head. “I have no excuses for my incompetence.”
Loulie nearly said The high prince was every bit as incompetent yesterday! but held her tongue. It would not do to insult Omar bin Malik in front of one of his subjects.
Ahmed continued, “I have failed in my duties as your host, and I owe you an apology.”
Beneath that apology was another one: I am sorry I could not convince you to accept my proposal. Every time she came to Dhyme, the wali tried to win her over. Not with tokens or gold or flowers, but with honest conversation. He was the only man she visited for pleasure rather than business. The only man whose company she enjoyed. Whose company she missed.