Despite my intentions to ignore her, I agreed, fighting the guilt that plagued me for how I’d treated her earlier. We stepped out into the dark hallway. The rest of the inn had gone to bed long ago and it was quiet. She still didn’t meet my eyes, crossing her arms. I swallowed, fighting to keep my mental walls up. I’d been harsh earlier. Maybe I should apologize. And tell her she could stay with us a few more days if she needed. I could handle a few more days, right?
“I’m so tired,” she said, before I could form the right words. Yawning, she rubbed her eyes. When she finally lifted her gaze, it radiated sadness that tugged at my emotions. “My room is right next door and that awful prince is so loud.” She pulled out her room key, fiddling with it. “Would it be okay if we trade rooms for the night so I could get some sleep?”
I blinked. I’d been expecting her to bring up her Gift. Maybe she was as nervous to mention it as I was. I reached into my pocket without thinking, exchanging my key for hers. “Of course.” Just because I didn’t fully trust her, it didn’t mean I wanted her to suffer.
Swallowing again, I tried to figure out how to tear down the walls in my mind, so she could see my confusion, but she turned to go. “Thank you Kadin. Goodnight.” Her tone was solemn.
“Goodnight,” I called after her. We could talk in the morning. My mind shifted back to Prince Dev, where Gideon was listing every torturous thing the prince had been up to since Naveed and I had left town.
Hours passed in the tiny room, before Gideon finally spoke the words I’d been waiting to hear for years: “It’s time to pronounce judgment.”
My men sat up. Naveed bumped Illium’s arm to wake him, and we all turned to Gideon.
“Prince Dev of Baradaan, I pronounce you guilty of misusing your Gift,” Gideon began.
“That’s not tr–”
Gideon snapped his fingers and once again held a wet, pink tongue while the prince roared wordlessly, struggling against his restraints. This time, Gideon ignored him, moving toward the window where the first hint of dawn crept in, filling the room with a soft light.
“It seems fitting that a punishment for misusing the Gift of Tongues, would be the removal of the offensive organ,” Gideon continued, and we all gaped at the tiny piece of the prince in Gideon’s palm as he stretched his arm out the window and waited patiently.
An enormous bird with a wingspan as large as my horse swept down and snatched the tongue from Gideon’s hands in its cruel talons, swooping up and away as suddenly as it had appeared.
Prince Dev cried out. Can he still feel his tongue? The bird rose into the skies to devour it, unseen. As I turned to look at the prince, he fainted.
I glanced at Gideon, and pictured my mental shields lowering. Thank you.
He nodded, once.
Naveed stared at the prince as well, tears in his eyes. This was our justice. The prince who’d stolen his tongue would finally know how it felt. A fitting punishment in more ways than one. But I felt numb. Why didn’t it feel like enough?
Chapter 37
Kadin
THOUGH I DESPERATELY WISHED for a bed, once Gideon sent the forever wordless prince back to the castle with a snap of his fingers, I knew it was time to pay the price: one ancient lamp.
As my men filed out of the room to find their own beds, I paused at the realization that Arie was sleeping in my room. “I’ll be back shortly,” I told Gideon.
At the opposite end of the hall, I tapped on the door to my room, hissing, “Arie.” No response. “Arie, wake up. I need to give Gideon the lamp.”
No answer.
I knocked a bit louder. “Pipe down!” a male voice called from another room. But as far as I could tell, not a single sound came from the other side of Arie’s door. She was a sound sleeper.
Embarrassed, I returned to Gideon’s room, which he opened before my fist connected with the wood. “My apologies,” I began, “The lamp is in my room, but I let Arie sleep there... the noise,” my excuses sounded weak. “Anyway, she’s still asleep, but I’m sure she’ll be awake in a few hours and then the lamp is yours, I swear.” I tried my best to expose my thoughts, not sure if it was working. “I’m good for my word, you can read my mind if you need to...”
Gideon’s head tilted to the side. “I suppose it would be good to rest a few hours.” He nodded. “Come back with the lamp at midday.”
A few hours of sleep sounded heavenly. Shuffling downstairs just long enough to ask someone to wake me before noon, I used Arie’s key to slip into what had been her room, noticing she’d brought her belongings with her as I fell into bed. Even with the sunrise peeking into my room, sleep hit me like a boulder.
I felt as if I’d only just closed my eyes when a knock roused me. Was it already noon? I rubbed my face, eyes burning. Forcing myself out of bed, I dragged my feet to the door. The hall was empty. I trudged to Arie’s room, knocking as I yawned. No answer.
I knocked louder. If people weren’t awake by now, it was their own fault. But even when I pounded on her door, Arie didn’t stir. I began to worry.
Jogging down the stairs, I asked for a spare key.
“We don’t just go around giving out keys,” the older woman minding the bar told me. The wrinkles etched in her forehead deepened. “If you lost it, you pay for it, and you don’t get another one.”
“I didn’t lose it,” I tried to reason with her, though I’d already explained once. “I paid for all the rooms, and I gave that key to another member of my group. But now I need to get into the room.”
“Why?” she scowled.
“None of your business,” I snapped. But when she raised her chin at me, I sighed. “I’m worried, alright? I just want to make sure she’s okay.”
“She?” The woman slapped her rag down on the bar. The wrinkles lifted before growing deeper still. “I see how it is. You want to sneak into the poor lady’s room? I’m not going to help you with that, and I’m considering having you thrown out just for asking!”
“No, no,” I backpedaled, frustrated with the direction this conversation was going. “No, listen. It’s my room. I gave her my key, but I need to get something from my luggage.”
“Mmmhmm,” she said, crossing her arms. “There’s always something with you men, isn’t there? I thought you wanted to make sure she’s okay. Now you need to get something?”
I groaned. “I do, and yes! Why don’t you come with and make sure I behave. How’s that sound?” When she hesitated, I pressed harder, “Please. I’m worried. Just help me check on her—then I promise I’ll go away.”
Though she huffed, the woman turned to the kitchen and called out, “Arman, I’m checking on a guest. Be right back.”
“Thank you,” I said, dropping some coin onto the table, hoping it’d make her move faster.
She pocketed the coin before wiping down the rest of the bar. She stopped to fiddle with a ring of keys. Only once she was satisfied they were all there did she finally push through the door to join me on the other side of the bar, tromping up the stairs without looking back. I hurried to catch up.
She knocked on Arie’s door, even though I reminded her I already had. Just like earlier, Arie didn’t answer. That girl slept like a rock.
The employee frowned and inserted her key, calling out as if Arie would somehow hear her voice when she hadn’t heard the knocking, “I’m coming in, miss.”
With a twist, the door swung open and we stepped inside. The bed was empty. And made. Like no one had slept in it. I didn’t see Arie anywhere. Had she risen early?
Puzzled, my eyes settled on my bags. They were open, and the contents were strewn about the floor. My heart beat faster. Moving toward the bags, I ignored the babbling of the woman who’d let me in.
It couldn’t be.
The lamp was missing.
Chapter 38
Arie
AFTER LEAVING THE INTERROGATION earlier that night with Kadin’s key, it hadn’t taken me long to find the lamp. Moonlight poured into the room as I
dug through his other bags until I found some flint as well.
I stopped in the middle of the room with the oil lamp in one hand and the flint in the other, stalled.
There was no oil.
On the other side of Kadin’s room, by the window, there was a table with a single chair and a small lamp. Praying I’d be so lucky, I crossed the room. Squinting, I made out a dark liquid in the bottom of the other lamp. When I picked it up, a thin layer sloshed around inside. It barely covered the bottom. I hoped it would be enough.
Setting the ancient green lamp in the middle of the table, I carefully transferred the oil from one to the other, preparing to light it.
I paused.
Kadin would never forgive me.
Not to mention Gideon.
The Jinni had made it clear that once he had the lamp, he was leaving immediately. But if my plan worked—and if he didn’t murder me first—then maybe, just maybe, I could not only get home, but draw Gideon to Hodafez after me... and once he was there, he could stop King Amir from abusing his power.
It was risky.
Gideon was honorable, but there was an urgency to his plan I didn’t understand.
Either way, I had to stop King Amir, or at the very least, rescue Baba. There was no time to waste. Summer’s Eve festivities began in just a few hours.
Still I paused, Kadin’s face etched in my mind. To betray him twice in one day... There was no way he’d forgive me after this.
Should I leave a note? Did he even read? This was silly. I didn’t know him well enough to know if he could read, so why should I leave him a note?
Even with the sound argument, I couldn’t make myself move. Gifted people use people. His words reverberated in my thoughts, the way they had all day. But instead of urging me to light the fire and leave him behind, the memory only made me feel even more guilty. I stared out at the moon, as another memory hit me.
When he’d turned back to the interrogation, opening the door...
I’d heard his thoughts about Prince Dev.
Not one of them had been about me.
Yet I’d still heard him as clear as day.
Had I imagined it? Was there some whisper of thought related to me? I didn’t think so...
I shook my head. This wasn’t the time to worry over Kadin’s thoughts, not the ones he had now or the ones he would have in the very near future when he found out what I’d done.
Swallowing hard, I set my bag on the table and loosened the drawstrings. I pulled out my crown. Even in the moonlight the diamonds glittered. It might cost more than the lamp, but I knew it still wasn’t enough. I chewed on my lip. Was there any way Gideon might follow me? And if he did, would he let me ask for help before he punished me? Turning to Kadin’s bag, I set the crown inside where the lamp had been. It would serve as both a note and a payment for my theft.
Picking up the flint, I lit the lamp.
My father needed me. If I didn’t get home soon, his murder would be my fault.
I wrapped my fingers around the base of the lamp.
Nothing happened.
Was I supposed to say the place I wanted to go? Picture it? I opened my mouth, thinking back to where I’d left my father’s kingdom, which had just happened to be at the mouth of the ocean—
Splash!
Cold water engulfed me and the scenery shifted from the warmth of Kadin’s room at the inn, to pitch-black darkness. Still gripping the lamp, I lifted it above the water, which came up to my chest. Struggling to find my bearings, my eyes began to adjust. The moonlight danced on the water all around me. Ahead the lights of Keshdi twinkled. It was the exact place I’d crawled out of the ocean almost an entire fortnight ago.
I groaned, wanting to smack myself. I’d intended to transport myself directly into the palace. Wading out of the water to the shore, I held up the lamp, squinting. Was there any oil left?
Though something sloshed around, I couldn’t be sure if it was oil or saltwater. I knelt, setting the lamp on the packed soil, reaching into my pocket to pull out the flint—but it wasn’t there. I moaned again. I’d set the flint down on the table. Back at the Red Rose. Almost three-days travel from here.
Without any way to light the lamp, I gripped it desperately, closing my eyes and picturing my bedroom. “Take me to my room,” I whispered. “Please, take me to my room.”
But, of course, I didn’t move. Dawn was breaking and the dark sky was turning gray with a hint of color on the horizon, lighting up the shoreline and the path that led to the road.
Sighing, I stood, tucking the lamp into my dress pocket and brushing the sand off my wet hands. I would have to walk.
My cold, wet skirts clung to my legs, making me shiver. I wrung them out as much as possible before I began the long hike to Hodafez.
“Where can I get some of those?” A female voice spoke up behind me.
I whirled, heart thumping. Before me stood a stark-naked woman with nothing on her except a seashell necklace, and a few other strategically placed shells. I gaped at her. She stood with her knees braced together as if she might fall and gestured to my clothes. “That whole ensemble would be nice. How can I go about getting something like that for myself?”
She sounded like a raving lunatic. “What happened to you?” I asked even as I reached up to unclasp my cloak, pulling it over my shoulders. “Were you hurt? Did someone do this to you?” Fury rose in me. I swung my cloak over her thin shoulders. “Here, put this on, quickly now.” I brushed her long, auburn hair out of the way, securing it in the front.
Stepping back, I expected a thank you, or an explanation, or both, but she only held out her arms, making the cloak swish open and closed. “How lovely. This will do very nicely.” Glancing up at me, she grinned and finally added, “Thank you.”
“Ahh...” I cleared my throat at the flashes of skin. “No, no...” I began, at a loss for words as I gripped the edges of the cloak and pulled them back together. “Keep it closed, like this, until you find a dress to put on underneath.” She acted like a child. I listened for her thoughts, but a void surrounded her. Total silence. Was I accidentally repressing them, like Gideon had taught me, or was she truly thinking nothing at all?
“Listen,” I began walking. There wasn’t time to get sidetracked. I aimed for the road to Hodafez, calling over my shoulder, “I need to go. Keep the cloak.” I paused, glancing back. “You do have a dress you can put on, don’t you?”
She shook her head, still grinning, and followed me, matching my pace. “Could I borrow one from you?”
“Borrow—you—” I faltered, then began to walk faster. When she kept up, I gestured to myself. “I don’t have a spare dress with me.” Sarcasm dripped from my voice, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“That’s okay.” She tripped over nothing and caught herself.
“Have you been drinking?” I asked. That would explain the complete lack of clothes. Well, explain might be stretching it.
“Drinking what?” she asked. “Ooh, I’ve heard of drinking, could we try it?”
I slowed my pace, eyeing her. “What’s your name? Where are you from?” Another glance as we walked and this time I was the one who tripped, as my eyes widened. “Are those gills on your neck?”
“Yes,” she said simply, tripping as well, but smiling as if it were some accomplishment. “And my name is Grand Tsaretska Marena Yuryevna Mniszech.” Her tone inferred this title should mean something to me.
“Are you a Jinni?” I asked in hushed tones, stopping in the middle of the road.
She whirled to face me, cloak flying open. “How rude!”
“I’m... sorry?” I resumed walking. It’d been a foolish question. She was nothing like Gideon, besides her fair skin. Instead of blue eyes, her’s were a greenish color with flecks of blue, and even—was that, did I catch a hint of purple? It was impossible to tell while walking, with her facing the road. But while Gideon’s hair was as dark as a moonless night, her red hair grew more fiery every second as t
he sun rose. Where Gideon stood tall and strong, this girl was diminutive. Waif-like enough that a heavy wind could likely carry her away.
“I’m from Rusalka,” she said, as she struggled to keep up with me. She made walking look like a difficult task.
Rusalka was in the depths of the ocean; a place humans had never and would never see. “You’re a... Meremaid?” I trailed off, staring openly now. “I’ve never, that is, I—” I stumbled over my words, searching for a respectful way to ask what in the name of Jinn had made her leave her watery kingdom? “It’s not every day I meet a Meremaid. In fact, I don’t believe I’ve ever had the pleasure...”
“That’s because the Mere can’t stand humans.” She shrugged, smiling. “And don’t get me started on the Jinn.” She made a strange trill of disgust that sounded distinctly dolphin-like.
Even as she spoke, all I sensed around her was dead air.
Not a single thought.
Not about me, or even an inane one about what a lovely day it is or how perfect the weather.
I slowed. Memories resurfaced from my training growing up... it was rumored the Mere were immune to Jinni’s Gifts... something to do with the bad blood between the two races that led to the Mere creating protection spells and boundary lines, withdrawing to the sea over the last few centuries.
I wanted to tell Kadin. What if they would share their protection spells with the humans? Could they be convinced to share if they hated our kind so much? I tensed, wondering if she could read my mind like Gideon, but she only kicked at the edges of the cloak as she walked, engrossed by the way it flung out with each step.
“Where’s your tail?” I blurted out. Once the words left my mouth, I cringed at how rude they sounded. I’d been away from court etiquette for too long, the crew’s honesty had rubbed off on me. I shrugged off the thought, uncomfortable with the way it made me miss them.
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