One Night

Chapter Twenty Six

Zayen

This time I didn't forget Nawaz.

Ameer, the Wazir, tried to convince us not to see Nawaz, but after everything it was needed. He was asleep—something that is 'normal' after his brain was hijacked.

There are many things that can go wrong because of us leaving Nawaz with the Wazir—but there is already a mile-high pile of things that have gone wrong.

And it is killing me inside, because each wrong step means I am putting Saad and Aya in danger. And each step away from Nawaz, into this new city, feels wrong.

The sun is half way down the horizon, leaving the skies a mess of peaches and pinks.

The roads are busy, each passageway lined with vendors selling fresh falafels and juiced fruits.

The people here are dressed differently—none of them wear any finery. There is no way to tell if they are rich or poor, as they all have decent and clean clothing.

Even though everywhere I look, there are people, none of them are shouting or trying to sell their products by shoving it in peoples faces—which is the only way people sold things in the souks of Qadura.

It's peaceful.

My breath is sucked out of my lungs. "Do you see that?" I ask Alara, but I am walking towards it before I can hear her respond.

A lantern. No, not a lantern. Lanterns use fire. This . . . There's a blue light that seems to continuously shift inside the lantern container.

I reach out to lift it, to see if there is some strange trick, but there is no way to fake something like this. It is another form of light.

"Would you like to trade? It is a specialty, directly from Aleamiq," the man in the stall says. From Aleamiq? The prison?

How does the Hakeem not know about the existence of this? It is probably more priceless than anything he's ever touched, and if he knew it would be all over the palace.

"How much?" I ask.

The man laughs. "How much what? I am asking, what do you have to offer that is equal in value?"

Absolutely nothing. All I have on me are some weapons and the clothes on my back. The Wazir, Ameer, was not happy about it—but I wasn't about to walk out into the unknown without the slightest bit of protection. Especially when I have Alara with me. I haven't forgotten my promise.

I step back, to walk away, but the man makes a sound with his tongue. "How about these earrings, for your wife?" He holds up a pair of pearl earrings that dangle on a small chain.

I nearly choke when he calls Alara my wife. She tucks her hair behind her ears, her cheeks red.

I turn back to the man. "I would, but I have nothing to give you. I can't give my weapons because I need to protect her."

He laughs. "Protect her from what?"

I look around, at the people who walking up and down the wide street lines with stalls. All of them are calm, laughing and present. None of them have weapons, or seem the slightest bit concerned for their safety.

But they are from here. I am not. They are every day people. I was raised and trained to fight.

When I don't respond, he places a cotton shirt down over some of the other trinkets that he has in his stall. It is probably a size or two smaller than me. "I will trade you these earrings and this shirt, and in return you will give me your shirt. It is silk, which is rare."