Read an extract from The Ashfire King by Chelsea Abdullah

The Ashfire King continues the tale of myth and magic that began with The Stardust Thief, Chelsea Abdullah’s unmissable debut.

Neither here nor there, but long ago…

After fleeing a patricidal prince, legendary merchant Loulie al-Nazari and banished prince Mazen bin Malik find themselves in the realm of jinn. But instead of sanctuary, they find a world on the cusp of collapse.

The jinn cities, long sheltered beneath the Sandsea by the magic of its kings, are sinking. Amid the turmoil, political alliances are forming, and rebellion is on the rise. When Loulie assists a dissenter she puts herself in the centre of a centuries-old war.

Trapped in a world that isn’t her own and wielding magic that belongs to a fallen king, Loulie must decide: Will she carry on someone else’s legacy or carve out her own?

Scroll down to read the first chapter. 

 

1

Loulie

There were two reasons Loulie al‑Nazari was in a foul mood.

The first was that she was trapped in a foreign land with a temperamental being made of fire and a starry-eyed storyteller who was recounting their journey in painstaking detail. The second was that they were physically stuck between a large rock and an ever-shifting, ever-sinking ocean of sand.

In the distance, on an island in the middle of the Sandsea, lay their destination: the legendary jinn city of Dhahab. Even from here, Loulie could see the domes and towers glowing gold beneath the sunlight. Beacons of hope, the temperamental being of fire—Rijah— had called them. But standing at the edge of the sea, Loulie was not hopeful at all.

“I hate this place already,” she said.

Rijah, shapeshifter and self- proclaimed mightiest of jinn, glowered at her from beneath the shade of the date tree they were reclining under. “It hates you too.”

Mazen, who looked significantly less starry- eyed as he concluded his story, cut an irritated glance at Rijah. “Were you listening to anything I just said?”

Rijah lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “Why would I when I do not care?”

Loulie sighed as the two of them bickered. She turned her gaze to the sky. Or at least, it was a sky in theory. But it was hard to think of it as such when the clouds had been replaced with swarms of fish and the sun wavered, faint and fractured like light on water. Since their arrival, the expanse had shifted multiple times, one hour filled with marine life, the next speckled with strange birds. According to Rijah, it was a jinn- made illusion, an unreliable fabrication of reality.

Looking at the strange sky, Loulie had the odd impression she was sinking. That feeling only intensified when she looked at the shifting sand around them. On the surface, the Sandsea was rumored to be all that was left of the fallen land where the jinn cities had once stood. But if that was the case, why did the Sandsea also exist here, in this realm under the sand?

Earlier, when she had asked Rijah, they had not had an answer for her. The ifrit had been just as unsettled by the sight of the Sand-sea and the islands scattered across it.

A pointed cough pulled Loulie from her musings. She looked up to see Mazen standing on the shoreline, gazing out at Dhahab. “We could fly there,” he said.

The prince-turned-criminal looked as if he’d trudged through a particularly vicious sandstorm. His wavy hair was wild and unkempt, his tunic and trousers rumpled and torn. But the injury he had sustained during their last battle was healed, and despite the ordeal they had faced, his golden eyes were bright. Though Mazen’s title had been stolen from him, he was still the softhearted prince Loulie had been conned into traveling with. He was still Mazen bin Malik, the youngest son of a now- dead sultan.

Rijah scowled. “You mean I could fly, and you could ride on my back.”

Mazen looked at them uncertainly. “Yes?”

“No,” Rijah said flatly.

Loulie bit her tongue. Rijah had been tasked with watching over them, but so far all the ifrit had done was begrudgingly stomp after them and complain about it.

Though it was impossible to measure time in this world, with its odd sky, Loulie suspected they had been traveling a long time, meandering through terrain both rough and tortuous. And now here they were, marooned on a beach with a small cliff behind them and the Sandsea before them. To begin with, the land they’d traversed had been splintered with cracks and scars but whole. It was only here at the edge of the Sandsea that Loulie realized they were on an isle.

Rijah, who had surveyed the area from on high as a bird, claimed the Sandsea had eroded not just the immediate area but the entire landscape. Cities that had once been on the same plain had now become displaced and distant, accessible only over stretches of the Sandsea. According to them, there was no way around it, but Loulie did not believe that.

She planted herself in front of the ifrit. “Don’t you want to go back to your home?”

Rijah crossed their arms. A dent appeared briefly between their brows but smoothed away just as quickly. Loulie recognized a tell, fleeting as it was.

Mazen seemed to pick up on it as well. “You’re nervous to return?”

Loulie balked. She had been so busy worrying about her own safety in this realm that she had not stopped to ponder Rijah’s history within it. She had forgotten they’d been named an ifrit because it was a title for the powerful jinn kings who had sunk these cities. Rijah scowled. “Would you be eager to return to the city that has a price on your head?”

“But you’re ancient,” Mazen said. “Surely no one will remember—”

A sharp, mocking laugh burst from Rijah’s lips. “Jinn hold their grudges for centuries. Human resentment is evanescent by comparison.”

Looking at the fierce glower on their face, Loulie could not help but wonder if they were referring to their own grudge. Before she and Mazen had met them, Rijah had been trapped for hundreds of years beneath the Sandsea in what was rumored to be the most powerful relic in the desert— a small, unremarkable oil lamp. And now Mazen, a descendant of the man who had trapped Rijah and forced them to do his bidding, was carrying that lamp in a satchel at his belt.

Though Mazen had promised never to abuse the lamp’s power, Rijah was clearly cynical. Loulie did not imagine the ifrit’s demeanor toward them would warm anytime soon.

She returned to searching for a land crossing they could use to traverse the small stretch of Sandsea between them and the city and was surprised when she spotted a silhouette on the shifting sand that had most certainly not been there before. She squinted until the shadow resolved into a shape. Until she realized she was looking at . . .

“A ship?”

Mazen came to stand beside her. He shielded his eyes with a hand. “It’s . . . a boum?”

It was indeed a boum, moderately sized, with three sails. It was very likely there were jinn on the vessel. The realization made Loulie’s stomach knot. How did one conduct themselves in a world where humans were an anomaly?

Mazen made a “hmm” sound under his breath. “You think they’re explorers Travelers?”

Loulie shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever their purpose, they’re headed to the city. The better question is how to grab their attention.”

There was a thoughtful pause. And then, in unison, they looked at Rijah.

Unsurprisingly, the ifrit was displeased. “Imagine, for a moment, that I draw this ship here. What will you do when the sailors find out you are humans? Will you spin your long-winded tales and pray their curiosity outweighs their animosity?” Rijah scoffed. “And what if they capture you? Will you wave your pathetic dagger at them?”

Impulsively, Loulie pulled her pathetic dagger from a hidden pocket in her robe and pointed it at Rijah. “I know how to lie.” She angled the knife at Mazen, who cringed. “He knows how to lie. What was it you told us when we first came here? That you would not baby us?”

Rijah opened their mouth to level a retort at her but then paused, suddenly captivated by her blade. Loulie knew immediately what they were looking at: the golden qaf on the obsidian hilt, the first letter of Qadir’s name.

Qadir. Bodyguard to her, King of Jinn to Rijah.

She tamped down the surge of emotion that swept through her when she thought of her partner in crime. Qadir, who had told them to flee. Qadir, who had stayed behind to cover their escape. Qadir, who had still not caught up with them, despite his promise. Had Rijah been able to take them back through the Sandsea, Loulie would have already returned for him.

The ire vanished from Rijah’s expression when they beheld the engraving. “Fine. I will bring the ship here, but you must deal with the consequences.” With that cryptic declaration, they faced the vessel, cracked their knuckles— and sighed loudly. The sharp exhalation strengthened into a gust of wind, rippling through the air with enough force to tear at their clothing.

Loulie watched in amazement as the squall arced over the Sand-sea. Between one breath and the next, it had overwhelmed the boum and was steering it toward their little island.

Mazen was visibly gaping. “Incredible,” he whispered.

Rijah smirked. “This is nothing.” They turned toward him, and midmotion their body quivered and blurred. When Loulie blinked, Rijah was no longer standing before them in a human shape but flying above their heads as a bird, a hawk with startling turquoise-blue eyes.

Mazen made a sound of distress as Rijah alighted on his shoulder.

“Let me guess.” Loulie crossed her arms. “You don’t want to reveal yourself to other jinn?”

When Rijah did not deign to respond, Loulie returned her attention to the ship with a grumble. With the tempest clearing, they had mere moments to catch the sailors’ attention before they resumed their course. She straightened, donning her false bravado like a cloak as she wound her scarves around her face. Mazen mimicked the motion, concealing everything but his eyes. She was surprised when he took the initiative to call out to the ship, waving his arms for added effect. He stopped only when it turned toward them.

“I hope this does not end badly,” he mumbled as he lowered his hands.

Loulie forced herself to shrug. “Don’t think too hard on it. What will be will be.”

Mazen glanced at her over his shoulder. There was a spark of recognition in his eyes— a memory, hovering between them, of Qadir sharing that advice before they’d all plunged into the Sandsea to find the lamp. But Loulie had heard it from him countless times before and had parroted it without thinking.

She turned away from Mazen’s pitying look. She did not want to remember Qadir. Not now, when thinking of him and the people she had left behind made her feel helpless. Loulie did not know Dahlia’s fate, but Ahmed’s . . .

Unbidden, her thoughts returned to the ever- smiling wali of Dhyme: Ahmed bin Walid, the jinn hunter who had always welcomed her to the city with cheer. The man who had asked for her heart and then died in Omar’s raid before she could give him an answer.

Loulie swallowed a knot in her throat as she focused again on the ship, which was near enough she could make out a figure standing on the edge. The figure gestured toward a rope ladder hanging off the hull.

“After you,” Mazen said softly beside her.

Loulie hesitated for one heartbeat. Two. And then she ran at the ship, leaping over the small gap between the sea and the hull. She began to ascend the ladder, Mazen following less gracefully behind her, with Rijah still perched on his shoulder.

It was a short climb. The first thing Loulie noted when she regained her footing was that the wood beneath her was surprisingly stable. And then she realized— this ship did not bob on the sea so much as slide across it.

Magic?

Her curiosity was quickly snuffed out, replaced with alarm as she took in the man before her. No, not a man. A jinn. For though he was human shaped, his eyes were a solid, edge‑to‑edge ink black, and his skin glittered oddly with what looked like swaths of scales. The hems of his clothing wavered like smoke, blurring even the golden trinkets pinned to his flowing velvet coat.

Loulie’s stomach dropped. Covering her features wouldn’t fool anyone; she clearly did not belong here. But the jinn was looking at them expectantly, and she had to say something—

Abruptly, Rijah let out an earsplitting cry that made them all cringe. It was a strangely judgmental sound, made worse by the ifrit’s bird-eyed glare.

The sailor looked at the hawk, perplexed. “You have . . . a very vocal bird.”

Relief crashed through Loulie at the sound of his voice. His accent was more clipped, the syllables more pronounced, but— he spoke her language. She laughed, soft and breathless. “Yes, I apologize for the creature.” She ducked into a bow. “You have our deepest gratitude for saving us. Me and my”— she hesitated as she glanced at Mazen— “companion.”

Mazen immediately swept in to offer his own gratitude and to enlighten the sailor about their fictional history. It was a simple story, one that painted them as explorers who had lost their way. They’d apparently been searching for a mysterious treasure and consequently found themselves in rigorous territory. This, Mazen claimed, was a most serendipitous rescue.

There was a thoughtful pause after the story. The sailor considered them quietly, his dark eyes unreadable. And then, remarkably, he thanked them for their explanation. Loulie was nonplussed when he asked them only one question: “The area you came from— is it still afloat?”

She scrutinized the sailor’s expression, taking in the skepticism of his furrowed brow and the downturn of his lips. She had spent years studying customers— the way their eyes wandered over merchandise, the way they fidgeted when indecisive. Though she never knew what brought them to her stall, the success of her business depended on her being able to read their tells.

She did not know what the sailor was referring to, but she knew the answer he was expecting. So she let sorrow seep into her voice when she said, “I’m afraid not.”

The jinn sighed as he gazed past them to the broken land they’d minutes ago been marooned on. “Yet another isle lost to the bindings,” he mumbled. “I expected as much, but that does not make it any less a tragedy. Perhaps it is the gods’ mercy that brought us together.”

Or an ifrit’s magic. Loulie cut a glance at Rijah, but the ifrit was staring at the beach they had come from. Loulie wondered if that word— binding—had any meaning to them.

“Normally I would ask for payment,” the sailor continued. “But I am not so heartless as to demand coin from those in need.” He began to lead them across the deck.

It was then, as they were walking, that Loulie noticed the other jinn on the ship. Though they moved with the same ease and grace as human sailors, they, unlike humans, did not sway with the movements of the boum. Rather, they were shifting the sand upon which it traveled, manipulating it with hand motions that parted the sediment in waves.

Too late, Loulie realized she was staring, her expression mirroring Mazen’s own wide- eyed wonder. She forced herself to turn away, only to notice the sailor in the coat looking at her. “Your story is a mysterious one, ya sayyida. It is unfortunate we have no time for the rest of it.” He inclined his chin toward the city wall, lips curled into an amused smile.

The moment Loulie paused to observe the city, all thoughts of their threadbare story vanished from her mind. She was rendered speechless by the sight of the architecture. From a distance, the buildings had been a haze of gold. This close, she could discern the details that had been invisible to her from the shoreline.

She beheld the diaphanous enclosure rising before them: a barrier surrounding the city that at once seemed immaterial as smoke and solid as ice. Though everything behind it was distorted, the architecture looming above the massive walls inside was radiant. Loulie saw alabaster towers sparkling with shards of gold and domes made up of effervescent stained glass. She saw jade- green terraces dripping with ivy and enormous ebony doorways lined with jewels.

The city was stacked as high as it was stretched wide, the layered tiers so cluttered with buildings it seemed a miracle they had not yet collapsed on each other. Rising above the decadent chaos was a palace, a vision so impressive it warped Loulie’s senses. The towers were so tall their tops were lost to the clouds, and the golden domes were simultaneously vivid and faded, like a relief that lost its depth when viewed in shadow.

She recognized this place. When they had been searching for the lamp in the Sandsea, they had navigated this city’s labyrinthine pathways. It had been a mirage then, an illusion crafted by an ifrit, meant to ensnare them. But this was no illusion.

She glanced at Mazen, who had gone to stand at the bow. He was staring with unabashed marvel at the buildings as they circled the perimeter of the strange wall. Eventually, they came to a gateway made of gold that stood between two deity statues. As far as Loulie could tell, it was the only usable entrance into the city.

No sooner had they arrived than the gate began to open. Loulie swallowed her nerves as the ship pressed forward into the city.

“A word of advice, ya sayyida.”

She looked up at the sound of the jinn’s voice. Her heart crawled into her throat when she saw the disarmingly mischievous smile on his face.

“Yes?” Panic pulsed in her veins as the city walls closed in around them.

“You may want to prepare a better lie before we dock.” He tapped his knuckle and gave her a meaningful look.

Frowning, Loulie glanced down at the back of her hand. She stared as lines, red and dark as her own blood, materialized on her skin and connected to form an oval. And then the shape opened to reveal a slit at its center. Not an oval. Terror dug claws into her mind. An eye. The city gate slammed shut behind them.