by Emma Holly
His fist curled around the coin.
“If Luna made those,” Georgie said, trying to think the angles through, “there might be a limited supply. They’ll have to pick and choose who they give them to.”
“What they’re doing is wrong!” Connor said, more upset than Georgie had ever seen him. “I feel dirty just holding this.”
Iksander chafed his shoulder. “You’re not that, my friend, though I’m afraid you do need to hold onto it. Henri will think you’re rejecting him if you don’t.”
“I won’t wear it,” Connor said stubbornly. “Not here at least. If you’re not inoculated, I shouldn’t be either.”
Iksander smiled, his hand sliding up to caress Connor’s neck. “I certainly misjudged your nature when I met you.” His fond gaze shifted to Georgie. “Both your natures.”
As easy as that, happiness expanded inside of her. She touched Connor’s leg, and he dropped his hand over hers. That sent even more pleasure through her veins. How strange it was that these circumstances could lead to personal joy. Maybe, like Connor, she ought to feel guilty. She just couldn’t manage to.
“We forgive you,” she teased Iksander. “As long as you promise you won’t misjudge us again.”
IKSANDER DIDN’T KNOW what would have happened next. Maybe they’d have shared what humans called a group hug. He’d have enjoyed that, he thought, but a knock on the door redirected their attention. Georgie went to open it.
The same elegant female servant who’d come the other times stood there. She held fresh wrapped packages of gift clothes.
“Felicitations,” she said, handing the bundles to Georgie. “The three of you are receiving a great honor. Her Most Gracious Majesty has invited you to attend tonight’s banquet at table. She sent these clothes to ensure your attire is appropriate.”
“Her Gracious Majesty,” Georgie repeated.
“My speech is audible,” the djinniya replied tartly.
“Of course,” Georgie said. “Thank you for bringing these. Is there anything else we need to know?”
“Don’t be late,” she said and left.
“Hm,” Georgie hummed, pushing the door shut again with her hip. “Attending ‘at table’ suggests we’ll be eating. If the invitation had come from Henri, I’d say we have Connor to thank for that.”
“I expect he’s still the reason,” Iksander said. “When we see who’s wearing what from those bundles, we’ll know for sure.”
His prediction was correct. Though all three outfits represented the next rung up on the ladder of court prestige, Connor’s costume was by far the most lavish. Pearls and sapphires and stiff gold thread swirled over it. Lace fountained not just at his neck and cuffs but also from the tops of his heeled musketeer-style boots.
“Crap,” Connor said, his hands flying to his skull. Eleanor must have liked his hair in long corkscrews. The magic had returned them to him again.
Fighting a smile, Georgie pointed to his face. “You have a beauty mark on your right cheekbone. It’s a red velvet heart.”
“Damn it,” Connor huffed. “This is uncomfortable.”
Iksander took in his gilded appearance. “I’ll give Eleanor this: she knows what you can carry off. Any male a pinch less magnificent would look ridiculous.”
Connor frowned and ran his finger around his lace-swathed neck. “You think I’m magnificent?”
“Very,” Iksander confirmed. “Between you and Georgie, my senses are awash.”
Georgie laughed. “You’re never at a loss for a good compliment.”
“I mean it!” he said.
She hugged his waist and kissed him, which he liked very much. “You’re magnificent too. Even with a thousand less pearls than him.” She considered her own plunging décolleté. Her beauty patch was simply black. Despite its plainness, the creamy mounds of her breasts weren’t any less lickable. “I hope these clothes have magical spill repellants. If they don’t, being allowed to eat could be hazardous.”
A gong rang distantly in the corridor, their signal to proceed to the banquet hall.
Once there, they learned Connor had made even more of an impression on the female regent than they supposed. They were seated within roll-tossing distance of the U-shaped table’s head, where Henri and Eleanor presided in glittery gold-on-gold splendor. Tonight, they wore stiff accordion ruffs around their necks, creating the interesting and probably unintentional appearance that their pretty heads were served up on plates.
Iksander managed to hide his smile at the thought. Glancing up, he noted with some surprise that most of the binoculars in the gallery were aimed at him and his companions. Was there presence “at table” truly so singular?
“Good Lord,” a woman murmured in annoyance a few seats farther down than them. “Do they even know which fork to use?”
Ah, he thought. He’d forgotten their cover identity branded them as non-aristocrats. He and his friends were upstart provincials. He could cue Georgie and Connor through tonight’s rituals, but perhaps a fumble or two would be authentic. Georgie settled the question by spearing a potato a tad too firmly with her meat knife.
She ate the thing from the tip like a peasant would.
It was hard not to laugh at that—especially when the woman who’d spoken shrank back and gasped at her. Georgie’s expression was serene, her handling of the knife impossible not to take as a warning that she could use the implement for other purposes than eating. Iksander concluded he needn’t worry about her feelings being delicate.
Seated on Iksander’s other side, Connor seemed to have missed the exchange.
“Well,” he commented quietly, “that’s one way to avoid spilling.”
Iksander followed the angel’s gaze to the head table. The regents’ ruffs presented a greater challenge to eating than other people’s lace. They worked around this by magically floating their laden forks to their rosebud mouths.
Perhaps because he’d been watching for it, Connor’s attention caught Henri’s. The regent’s dark eyes smoldered, his tongue curling out to give his fork more of a licking than it required. This caught his sister’s notice. She jerked her head back and glowered. Her concentration must have faltered with the rise of her emotion. Her fork clattered to her plate, splashing sauce onto her bodice along the way.
“Darling,” her brother exclaimed sweetly. “How unfortunate. Allow me to assist you.” He charged his napkin to blot away the stain. That done, he held a languid hand to a server to replace the dirtied cloth. Two rushed forward, one to help him and one to straighten Eleanor’s slightly disarranged place setting.
It was then Iksander realized he’d seen the plates before. They bore a hand-painted scene of the Glorious City’s harbor, with the golden domes of the white-walled palace surmounting the highest hill. They’d been a gift to Iksander’s father. Friendship plates, he’d called them—not for the grandest meals but those shared with intimates. The first time he and Iksander broke bread on them was the first he felt his father saw him as an adult. For a while, after his father died, he put them away. When he was ready, the memories they brought back to him comforted. In the entire djinn dimension, four of those plates existed.
The only explanation for Henri and Eleanor having them was that they were looted.
Did eating off plunder thrill them? But maybe the plates were simply a few more trinkets they’d taken but not paid for. Iksander doubted they cared about conquering his city like Luna had. The empress had burned with a thwarted and very personal ambition. Compared to her, Henri and Eleanor were children. They wanted to sit atop the heap, pretending everyone adored them while they controlled all the toys. Who the credit belonged to for winning prizes wouldn’t matter a jot to them.
His clothing prickled as if electrified. Though he and Georgie had neutralized the emotion skimmers, the hidden spells were trying to reawaken and draw off energy. He should calm himself, be like Connor and see the silver lining behind adversity.
Spinning gold from straw woul
d have been easier. His hand tightened on his meat fork, temper causing the metal to bend slightly.
Aware he was close to snapping, he scraped his chair back and rose. Georgie and Connor both turned startled heads to him. He squeezed their shoulders then offered the room a bow. Without a word, he strode from the hall with his palm flattened to his stomach. Hopefully, his abrupt departure would be blamed on digestive disturbance.
Though no one stopped him, a single black-garbed guard peeled off from the group near the door to follow at a discreet distance. The reminder he wasn’t free to wander didn’t reduce his wrath. Molars grinding, he continued around a corner to the Hall of Mirrors. Judging this was as far as his leash would stretch, he forced himself to halt at one of the bright windows. The sun that glistered above the courtyard was a symbol of his constrained position. No matter who’d created it, the regents commanded a lot of power. He’d do better to remember they held the leashes here.
He closed his eyes, his arms braced straight on the cool stone frame. Breathe, Iksander, he ordered. People are counting on you. You need to keep it together.
“Sir?” said a surprisingly kind male voice. “Do you require assistance?”
It was the guard in the black uniform. Older than Iksander, his weathered features said he was real security, the sort who’d seen fighting and didn’t make light of it. Not for this djinni the rabid loyalty that led his comrades to kill Lord Moore. If he’d been wearing Iksander’s colors, he’d have passed as one of his men with no trouble.
“I believe a . . . potato disagreed with me,” Iksander said.
“I can take you to the health center. Perhaps one of their teas would help.”
Iksander smiled gently and shook his head. “The walk has restored me, but thank you. My main regret is disrupting the regents’ meal.”
“They do put on a show.” The guard wasn’t being critical, just making a statement. “Hopefully you’ll be invited again. For now, why don’t I escort you to your room?”
Iksander understood this wasn’t a request. Resigned, he bent his neck in thanks.
The djinni didn’t ask his name or where he was billeted. Side by side, at a measured pace, they proceeded along the sparkling mirrored hall. The guard’s golden buttons flashed on his uniform. Something in his demeanor—beyond his professionalism—touched Iksander with homesickness.
His steps faltered as his brain caught up with the sensation. The guard’s demeanor wasn’t all that reminded him of home. He smelled like Iksander’s city—like seaside air and spices, like blooming flowers and sun-warmed stone.
“You’ve been there,” he blurted.
“Excuse me?” inquired the guard.
He’d been looking for Luna’s body . . . or scouting for treasure. A steady man like him would have been trusted with either task. Again, the guard’s buttons winked, as if trying to burn off the sluggishness in Iksander’s mind. Luna’s sun was so bright its reflections stung.
Her sun.
Her magical, super-charged, designed-to-impress sun.
Awareness dawned. It was the royal portal, hidden in plain sight. He’d never encountered one so large, but Luna’s city possessed the power to charge a big one.
More than power tingled across his scalp.
“Forgive me,” he said, noting the guard’s raised eyebrows. Please God he wasn’t able to read his expression. “I meant you know which room to return me to.”
“Of course,” said the guard. “Senior staff stay apprised of important guests.”
Iksander didn’t argue the regents’ take on the guest concept. He was too grateful the guard relaxed.
Chapter Fourteen
IKSANDER’S ABRUPT EXIT was worrying. For Georgie, keeping her butt planted in the seat required self-restraint. Not that she cared, but she was sure she used quite a few wrong forks. Connor did a better job of maintaining his placid front. They had one bad moment when Henri magicked a beautiful white rose to appear in Connor’s fingerbowl—a romantic gesture, presumably. Eleanor noticed and didn’t seem pleased at all. Luckily, apart from shooting metaphoric eye-daggers at her brother, she didn’t cause a scene.
Connor being such a love magnet challenged Georgie’s peace of mind.
When the meal finally ended, finding Iksander already in their suite was a relief. The fact that he looked serious didn’t spoil her pleasure at seeing him.
Oddly enough, he held the broom from their little closet of cleaning stores.
“Connor,” he said. “I don’t know that our rooms our dirty, but perhaps you’d be kind enough to sweep them again.”
Connor hadn’t swept them before. He squinted in confusion but then straightened.
“Oh. A sweep. I’d be happy to.” He turned, broom in hand, to scan the apartment. “Nope,” he said half a minute later. “No new spy spells have been installed.”
“Good,” Iksander said. “I’ve discovered something I need to share.”
Georgie guessed it was big. He was quivering with eagerness. She perched on the arm of the nearest chair while Connor took the seat. Iksander squeezed his hands together.
“We’re all ears,” she promised.
They listened with widening eyes.
“We should have thought of that,” she said when he finished. “The other portals looked like suns too.”
“Baby suns,” Connor corrected. “And only after they were charged.”
“This one’s very charged,” Iksander said. “It’s also probably keyed to reach my city. All we’d have to do is step through it.”
“Well, shoot,” Georgie said. “If it’s ready to go, we risked our lives stealing power from the Hodensk tunnel for nothing.”
“Not nothing,” Connor said. “We learned what’s making the demon cloud.” He rubbed her hand thoughtfully. “Do you suppose we could warn people before we go?”
Iksander’s face said he sympathized. “I don’t know what good a warning would do. Even if we were believed, Henri and Eleanor would have to agree to stop exploiting the current system. The chance of them doing that seems small.”
His chest lifted with a breath, something about the gesture causing Georgie to brace herself. “I think we should try to go through tonight.”
“Tonight,” Connor repeated unsurely.
“I don’t think we dare delay. The regents are bound to send more scouts to search for Luna’s body. My people are vulnerable. Statues can’t defend themselves. Suppose Henri and Eleanor order the guards to smash them, to make sure Luna is really gone that way? A big enough spell would do it. They certainly have the resources to power one.”
“But they’d make the demon cloud even worse.”
“We can’t count on that stopping them. Ultimately, those two are selfish and shortsighted.”
“So we have to choose?” Connor asked. “Help your city or djinni like Neisha? The residents of Prospekt Market didn’t ask to be Luna’s subjects. Think how kind they were to us. And how brave Lord Moore was. He stood up for his district. And don’t forget the cellist across the hall who’s barely getting enough to eat. Even if Luna’s people think of you as the enemy, I know you don’t want to leave them at the mercy of that monster.”
Iksander’s grassy eyes shimmered. “I don’t want to, but I can’t start a revolution. It’s up to citizens to accept or overthrow their rulers.”
She could see he meant this. One tear and then another spilled from his lower lids. As the droplets rolled down his cheek, an idea occurred to her. She couldn’t swear it was good one or that either man would approve. To be honest, she wasn’t sure she did. She was strictly a small town rebel. This was out of her league by a thousand miles.
Then again, maybe aiming beyond her league was the only alternative on offer.
“There’s something we could try,” she said on a gust of air. “Depending on how radical you’re feeling.”
“Very,” Connor replied firmly.
“Wait until I tell you the plan at least.”
&
nbsp; Iksander dried his cheek on his fancy sleeve. “We’re all ears,” he said wryly.
Almost to her dismay, they heard her out without objection.
SINCE THEY’D HAD LUCK on previous after-midnight jaunts, they waited until the same hour to try again. Apart from trading their high-heeled boots for slippers, the men stuck with their gift clothes, reasoning they’d look more like VIPs to guards they might encounter. Georgie put a higher premium on being able to run without tripping on giant skirts. She changed into her leather pants.
Connor retrieved the pipe with the pilfered magic from their bathroom.
“Got your sleep spell supplies?” he asked Georgie.
She patted the pocket she’d shoved the pencil and paper in. Her hands weren’t shaking but they felt close to it.
“Let’s do this,” Iksander said.
They made it halfway down the servants’ stairway before Connor stiffened and caught their arms.
“Eleanor,” he said ominously.
“You sense her energy?” Iksander asked.
“Her perfume. Take the pipe. She’ll pay less attention if I’m not carrying it.”
Connor had been bringing up the rear. Now he hurried ahead of them.
“Give him room,” Iksander murmured when Georgie moved to catch up. “Maybe he can handle her.”
“Maybe” wasn’t the most reassuring word. Before she could say so, the sultan dragged her back to flatten against the wall.
Georgie cursed the fact that she couldn’t see what was happening.
“Darling!” they heard the regent cry from the next turn of the stairwell. “You must have read my mind.”
“Your Majesty,” Connor responded. “Were you coming to visit me?”
Georgie heard hands slide over silk and lace. “Of course I was, you glorious creature. Oh you are so very large! How can any female resist those eyes and this body?” Connor’s breath caught. Eleanor must have caressed a sensitive part of him. “I’m glad you like my present. These clothes suit you perfectly.”