An Aladdin Retelling: The Stolen Kingdom Series, #1

by Bethany Atazadeh

  Passing dozens of bookshelves that stretched twice my height, I pushed through velvet curtains that led to a little room at the back. It was pitch-black without the moonlight coming through the windows. The smell of books and dust grew stronger, tickling my nose. But the room was empty besides the books and work tables, which was all that mattered. My reading material over the last few weeks had to be kept secret at all costs.

  Glass boxes guarded the ancient books. One thick volume rested against the back wall, old and worn, that no one was allowed to read, but was too full of information to burn.

  I set my candle on the table. It lit up the small pocket of space surrounding myself and the book. The enormous volume was turned to the title page:

  The Land of Jinn

  Lifting the heavy glass lid, I set it aside before leafing through the pages, one at a time. I’d found the book only a few nights prior, after searching the library for a book from Jinn for months, with no success. Each night I could get away, I came here to read a bit more—always making sure to turn it back to the title page and replace the glass before slipping out.

  The pages in the first section, Laws and Lists, were dense: this land had been merged with that land, and this law passed underneath a similar law, and so forth. I’d gleaned very little from it beyond the first sentence, which declared, “Each individual Jinni must honor the code of Jinn or risk banishment.” I held back a sneeze as I flipped past that section.

  Next was Spells and Secrets, written in a language I didn’t recognize. The last few nights I’d studied them anyway. The pictures on each page shimmered as if they might come to life at my signal, but what that signal might be, I couldn’t guess.

  On one page, a clock, on the next, a sundial. A tea kettle. A candle. Seemingly random objects. But tonight, I noticed a pattern in the spells that I hadn’t seen before: each object told time. Whether obvious, like the pocketwatch, or through items that didn’t seem designed to mark time at all: a tea kettle which would boil after a certain number of minutes passed. A candle that might last for hours, but would eventually burn out.

  Interesting, but meaningless, as far as I could tell. I didn’t know how I could use the spells if I couldn’t even read them; I made note of it and moved on.

  After the last page of spells, I discovered a third section: History and Households.

  I snatched my candle, bringing it closer and leaning in to read. My eyes caught on the page where my fingers fell. There was handwriting in the margins.

  I bit my lip. It looked like—could it be my mother’s? I recognized her handwriting. The style was utterly unique; the way her letters curved and her script flowed—if indeed it was hers—reminded me of a never-ending ribbon.

  I squinted at the words. The humans believe the race of Jinn to be nearly extinct. I followed the swirled script to the next line and stopped. They fear us.

  Us?

  It couldn’t be. I stepped back, glancing over my shoulder as if someone else might see the offensive words. I’d assumed after my Gift formed that somewhere in my family’s lineage there was Jinni blood, but not...

  Was my mother... did she mean that she’d been Gifted like me? Or what if—no. It’s not possible, I repeated to myself, but it didn’t feel very convincing. Had my mother been a full-blooded Jinni?

  I flipped through the book, barely remembering to be gentle with the worn parchment, searching for another note in the margins.

  The pages upon pages of history ended and genealogies began. Households. They listed family trees in tiny print, starting with two names and expanding into hundreds, crammed onto the page like ants swarming a crumb.

  I almost missed it.

  There, at the very bottom of one of the family trees, directly under two full-blooded Jinni’s names, another descendant’s name was scribbled in...

  My mother’s.

  Chapter 3

  Arie

  WHEN I STRODE INTO the grand hall the next morning, I was in no mood to greet anyone. I had my ladies-in-waiting surround me instead of hanging back, creating a natural buffer and giving me a reprieve from inane conversation.

  After last night’s revelation, I’d flung the book back to the title page, dropped the heavy glass overtop, and raced back to my quarters in a panic. My mother was from Jinn. A full-blooded Jinni. Which made me only half-human and half—I couldn’t even finish the thought. What were the implications of this? My father had to have known. Or did he? He would’ve told me, would’ve wanted to prepare me, if he’d known himself. Right? And what about the court? If they knew—if even one person knew—they’d almost certainly be watching me in secret. Waiting for me to reveal a latent Gift. If I hadn’t accidentally already done so. I’d lain awake the entire night trying not to think about it. And now I felt like walking death.

  I didn’t notice the servant approaching until he spoke. “Your father requests your presence in the throne room,” he said, bowing. I nodded, moving past him toward the high table for breakfast. “He said it’s urgent,” the young man added before I could sit.

  I paused, letting go of my skirts. “What could possibly be so important that it can’t wait until I’ve had a hot meal?” I ignored his thoughts about my deep blue dress and the strip of skin it revealed at the smallest part of my waist. Lifting my hands, I let the dozens of silver bracelets clink together noisily to catch his attention.

  He cleared his throat, clasping his hands together as he bowed again. “I believe it’s because we have a guest. King Amir of Sagh.”

  I dismissed him, and the servant hurried away. Heading toward the throne room and leaving my ladies-in-waiting behind, I barely noticed the people I passed. Why was the neighboring king here?

  Though King Amir was as old as my father and his dark hair beginning to gray, his face was more youthful with thick black brows, few wrinkles, and a long nose that made him look regal. He was wealthy enough to bribe anyone he pleased, which he often did. The king of Sagh should be likeable. Yet, no matter how nice he seemed, I often left his presence feeling oddly uncomfortable.

  Because Amir had a Jinni’s Gift.

  Leaving behind the grand tables where courtiers feasted and a storyteller entertained them, I followed the long hall to the throne room, but paused outside. I took a deep fortifying breath before pushing through the heavy door.

  The throne room felt larger without the crowds. Quiet. As the door closed, the wave of thoughts died down like the tide going out until there was only the softest whisper. They grew stronger as I approached the small room at the back, where I spied two people through the open door.

  My father stood by the enormous work table in the back. Papers were strewn across the stained wood, lit by sunbeams. Usually I’d find him muttering to himself as he sorted through them, forehead wrinkled. Today, he stood by, letting King Amir review Hodafez’s materials and goods for himself. I frowned at the audacity. Standing in the shadows of the pillars, I couldn’t seem to will my feet forward. Maybe I could hide in my rooms and claim to be ill.

  “Your kingdom is so small,” Amir tutted as he leafed through the papers. “And the castle too. If my fortress were this size, it’d be indefensible.” My father didn’t say a word. Odd. “You’re fortunate, you know,” Amir continued, rounding the table. “The way Hodafez rests on a cliff, surrounded by mountains or sea on all sides; it’s impregnable. Otherwise, I’d have taken it by force years ago. You’ll forget I said that, of course.”

  “Of course,” my father finally spoke.

  And that—his immediate agreement and the fact that he truly meant it—that was the reason I hesitated to enter. Amir’s Gift was powerful.

  The memory of his voice the first day I’d met him still gave me shivers. “Give me the bracelet, Arie,” he’d murmured in that deadly monotone.

  As a six-year-old, the thought of losing my jeweled bracelet had made my eyes well up with tears. But as I’d begun to wail, he’d whispered, “Hush.”

  And I had.

&
nbsp; Even as a child, I’d fought the compulsion to obey, but in the end, he’d left the castle with my jewels and the command not to tell anyone. It’d taken me years to break free of that order.

  What he’d done was forbidden. It broke the Jinni code. But I had no proof; it was a woman’s word against a king’s.

  His Gift might be weak compared to a full-blooded Jinni, but I stared at him now the way I would eye a cobra. He was deadly. Unpredictable.

  Though my father and Amir were around the same age, my father’s hair had turned white instead of gray, and he had permanent laugh lines around the corners of his eyes. I expected them to notice and greet me, but if my father saw me, he didn’t say a word, and Amir ignored me as well.

  “You called for me, Baba?” I forced myself to walk up to them. My footsteps echoed in the quiet room.

  “Arie.” My father held his arms out to me, but tucked them absently back into his belt before I reached him.

  “Hello, princess. We’ve been waiting for you. Your father has news. You’ll be very excited.” Amir’s deep syrupy voice flowed over me, and I found myself feeling oddly eager. My father just smiled.

  “Oh that’s right, it was our little secret,” Amir clapped a hand on my father’s shoulder, smirking. “You may speak of it now. I’m sure your daughter would like to hear the news from you.”

  “Yes, yes,” my father said, coming to life. “I have good news for you, Arie.”

  “That’s what Amir tells me,” I replied, wary. Amir scowled at the way I left off his title. He always was a stickler for formalities, despite the fact that we were both royals.

  “Mmm, yes.” My father smiled at my forehead instead of my eyes. “We have finally found you a husband!”

  I blinked. First at ‘finally,’ and then at ‘husband,’ but he wasn’t done. “You are to be married within the week. A wedding! If your mother was still alive, she’d be so happy.” And indeed, he had actual tears of joy in his eyes as he finished.

  Amir and my father studied my face for a reaction, but I felt nothing. This was ridiculous. “Married to whom?”

  “To myself, of course,” King Amir said, stepping forward to take my hand. His fingers felt cold. “When I knelt down on one knee, you were in shock, but you’ve come to admire me and look forward to our marriage. I can see you’re very pleased.”

  Though not one word was true, I responded to his influence, smiling back at him.

  “I remember.” A small voice in the back of my mind yelled that it’d never happened, even though I saw the mental image of Amir on one knee, holding a ring. I glanced down at my bare finger, feeling confused and thrilled with my engagement all at once. My father hugged me and repeated his excitement. Amir simply smiled and nodded.

  “I’m sure we will make each other truly happy,” he said, as he bent over my hand and kissed it. Only his thoughts jarred me back to reality. Your kingdom will finally be mine.

  I froze. Amir had turned back to the papers on the table and missed my reaction.

  He couldn’t know I’d heard him. I might wonder what my father’s reaction would be to my Gift, but if Amir ever found out, I knew exactly what he would do.

  “Another Gifted woman? Shameful,” Amir said as he slapped a paper onto the table. My muscles tensed, certain he’d heard my thoughts, even though that was my Gift, not his. He shook his head, gesturing toward the paper. “I’ve half a mind to just hang her.” My heart stopped. But he meant the girl from yesterday—the one who could turn things to metal.

  The way Amir’s face twisted in disgust before he moved on reminded me of a day, years ago, in the Court of Kings. When the idea of a Severance had shifted from a rarity so uncommon that a famine was more likely, to a frequent custom that was widely accepted.

  Amir’s hair had been dark then, his form more muscled, but he’d been just as convincing. He’d stood in the middle court, among reigning kings seated around him, and a wider audience of royal families and nobility in the surrounding balconies. “A Gifted woman is dangerous. You’ve all seen the results.”

  Back then my mind hadn’t enough strength to fight his influence, and I’d nodded along with everyone else. We’d just witnessed the aftermath of another Gifted woman—a kingdom burned to a crisp. Or so I’d believed. Now, I wondered if it’d been set up to convince the kingdoms to remove women with Gifts once and for all.

  A few of the kings had resisted Amir’s sway. “She deserves a fair trial, just like a Gifted man,” one had said.

  But others aligned with Amir. “Women can’t handle this kind of power. They’re too emotional. I vote we sever all their Gifts.”

  “Agreed,” said another. “The toll on them is too much, it would be better if they were allowed to live a normal life.”

  Arguments rose and fell, but in the end, Amir had shrugged. “We will give women a sound and reasonable trial. But we all know how it will end.”

  The woman had hung herself.

  I shivered at the memory, strategizing the best way to resist Amir without revealing my Gift. But my silence stretched too long. Amir glanced over his shoulder. “You are happy, are you not?”

  Forcing myself to give in to the waves of influence washing over me, I beamed up at him. “I’m delighted to marry you. When will our wedding take place?” Clenching my fists within the folds of my skirts, I tried not to fidget.

  My father hadn’t said a word. He stood, gazing at nothing, as Amir set down the paper and held out his hands. “Come.” I swallowed and obeyed, keeping my smile pasted on. When he gripped my fingers, I focused all my energy on not pulling them away. “We’ll be married in a fortnight on Summer’s Eve,” Amir said. “The feast and entertainment will make the perfect wedding celebration, don’t you think? Best of all, the entire kingdom has already been invited and everyone nearby will be encouraged to attend. Your father has already given it his blessing.”

  I blinked at that. The Summer’s Eve feast was less than two weeks away. Amir mistook my silence for the same blank reaction as my father. He cupped my cheek with his hand. “You will be a beautiful bride.” I let my face light up the way he expected it to, and he turned away. “You’re dismissed.”

  How dare he dismiss me in my own home? My blood boiled as I glared at his back. I almost forgot to obey, but forced my feet to move toward the door, touching my father’s arm as I passed. “Baba,” my voice came out too bright. “Could we have a private moment to celebrate? Maybe we could have some champagne?”

  “I’m not sure we should celebrate just yet, Arie-zada.” My father patted my arm. His face was slack and his words came out slow, as if he had to mull over each one individually. “It’s still a secret.”

  “Oh, it’s not a secret anymore,” Amir replied, not even glancing up as he picked up another paper. “That sounds delicious. Go pour three glasses. I’ll join you in a moment.”

  At the command underneath Amir’s voice, my father turned to obey, and I followed, hurrying to shut the large oak doors behind us. My father pulled out the champagne and began to pour the drinks.

  “Baba.” I took his hands and squeezed, searching for some sign that he was present, that the distance from Amir gave him his mind back. “You know I can’t marry him.” My whisper was urgent, desperate. “Please tell me you’ll stop this!” I was only 17. That might be old enough to get married. But it was far too young to marry someone as old as Amir. My father had always agreed with me before.

  “Mmmhmm, King Amir thought you might be uncertain, but he knows you’ll come around.” Baba patted my hand before he pulled free and turned back to pouring.

  This wasn’t him. I stepped back with tears in my eyes. It’s not his fault, I told myself as I hurried toward the side door. I needed to escape before Amir arrived.

  Walking down the hall, I kicked through a door when no one was looking, letting it crash into the wall behind me as I strode on, blinking back tears of frustration. I didn’t know what to do. No one else saw past Amir’s manipulation. I w
as alone.

  Chapter 4

  Arie

  WHEN I REACHED MY room, I dismissed Havah the moment she finished drawing my bath. I sank into the soothing heat with a sigh. But the peace was short lived.

  Havah returned before I’d had a minute to myself. “Your father expects you to sit beside King Amir at dinner tonight,” she told me, laying out my towel. “He said you’ll be announcing your engagement—a thousand blessings on your wedding, I didn’t know! Which dress should I set out for the evening?”

  “I didn’t know either,” I told the ceiling, not wanting to see the misplaced jealousy on her face any more than I wanted to hear it. “Pick whatever looks good. I’d like a few moments alone, please.”

  She left in a huff, but as soon as she closed the door I felt relief from her thoughts. The walls muted them as they would a voice, and for that at least, I could be grateful. I needed to think of a plan.

  Our little kingdom was small, but it wasn’t defenseless. If Amir decided to threaten us, maybe we could fight. We had the sea on one side and the benefit of height on the other. There was only one winding road up to our little fortress and it was well-protected.

  Staring into the bubbles, I smacked the water. It didn’t sound like Amir planned to go home or even leave our castle between now and the wedding.

  I pictured the stables, where my favorite horse had his own stall, no doubt being groomed and fed right now. How hard would it be to sneak away? Steal down to the stables in the dead of night, saddle up, and ride off? I could seek refuge in a neighboring kingdom... No, Amir’s men would stop me before I left the castle gates.

  I gave up on relaxing, splashing my way out of the tub. Drying off, I heaved the towel at the wall, wishing it would smash and break instead of land without any impact at all. I felt equally useless.

  Straightening my shoulders, I called for Havah to return and help me dress. I didn’t want to leave. I loved my father. I wanted to rule. And I couldn’t imagine life away from him and my home. As Havah did my hair, I clenched my jaw at the two young women in the mirror. There had to be a way out of this.