“Thank you. Always useful, Yahaya,” Aisa said. “And this Khalida flower led her back to you?”

  Aisa’s nails tapped onto the box, carefully placed on her desk by the Cursed witch. The box was adorned with sigils carved onto its wood, and a lock designed to keep the hexes contained. Her nails met the sigils and felt them freshly made. Aisa was not afraid of Yahaya, but she was certainly appalled by her practices.

  Yahaya nodded.

  “What is her role in all of this?”

  Yahaya remained silent, tightening her lips. The light of the morning sun entered from the large crystalline windows of her office in the Dáwù Fált??, and Yahaya avoided the sunshine, standing in the darker corners.

  “Am I to worry? A Cursed roaming Bilma, she is not of my father’s, is she?”

  “She is something else entirely, Aisa. The anomaly I was speaking about. She brought it with her.”

  “She is the… anomaly?”

  “Not quite. She brought it along. And she might leave town.”

  Aisa tapped her fingernails on the carved box.

  “I see. Investigate. I will give her reasons to stick around. She can be of use, while you figure out her purpose.”

  “Madame, your next appointment is here,” a voice from her comms on the desk warned her. Aisa looked at the machine before she clicked it. The timing was convenient, if not suspicious. She clicked on the comms machine as she waved at Yahaya.

  “Let them in.”

  By the time Aisa lifted her head, Yahaya was gone, using one of her Cursed ways to disappear in the shadows, undoubtedly. Aisa never dared to ask.

  “Aisa! Or shall I say: the Lioness?” A tall man, dressed in a dark blue suit, was accompanied by Aisa’s bodyguards. His smile seemed genuine, and he opened his arms as if to approach with an embrace. His skin was dark, maybe even darker than Aisa’s. His accent in Arabic betrayed a strong French accent.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Aisa waved her bodyguards out, but she did not walk to the man.

  “Brahim, what a pleasure to see you,” she said, lacking enthusiasm. “After all this time.”

  “It has not been so long, has it?”

  “It feels long. I have not heard from you since you left for N’Djamena. I sent for you.”

  Brahim’s smile turned into a frown.

  “What compelled you to bring the lions into that warzone?”

  “The intel I suspect you did not want me to find,” Aisa retorted, and stared him right into his eyes. “The third weapon. Capable of leveling the continent. And somehow, all of us mortals are meant to stay blissfully unaware of your wars. And you knew.”

  Brahim stood still. “I am not to speak of those matters with you.”

  Aisa pushed the box Yahaya had brought her, slightly. Just enough for Brahim to notice it.

  “That’s not…” Brahim stepped forward, reluctantly.

  “Of course, not. This is a Cursed heart.” Aisa said, and Brahim came closer.

  “A girl. A nobody. She walked back from N’Djamena, able to access the manypaths,” Aisa said. “She met an untimely death. But necessary.”

  “That’s what this is about, then? Selling to the highest bidder. You already have a fortune, go ask your father.” Brahim said, but his eyes were locked onto the box, his mind already brimming with ideas.

  “I am not exactly on negotiating terms with him. And regardless, I am not looking for money. I want in.”

  Brahim’s eyes thinned in curiosity.

  “I give you the Ngam Kúrà, money, and all the Cursed Hearts I can find. They are useless to me. For you, they can turn your war,” Aisa said.

  “And in return?”

  “I share the spoils. I stand tall next to your army when you yield Catastrophe.”

  Brahim clicked his tongue. He clicked on the comms on his ear.

  “Bring Hissein. He has a Deal to seal.”

  Aisa smiled. “You were ready. You were just playing coy.”

  She handed the box to Brahim’s hands.

  “Have at it. But take it slow, and tell me about the war.”