Beyond Your Touch

by Pat Esden

  “Back off,” I snarled.

  The shadow spat on the floor. “Out of my way, gelding.” He shoved me in the shoulder, sending me staggering into the wall. Chase had his scimitar out, ready to swing. The shadow laughed, elbowed his way past us and through the group of guards, and stalked off down the hallway.

  “Well, he’s certainly nasty,” Lotli said, breaking the tension.

  The Hulk grunted. “He wouldn’t stand a chance against Samiel.”

  After another brief interrogation that Lotli handled with amazing charm and panache, the guards let us pass. I had to give her credit—once she’d recovered from the aftereffects, she’d turned into a person I was glad to be partnered with.

  We followed the Hulk deeper into the fortress, his measured steps swifter than before. The air became even more humid with each curtained doorway we passed. I struggled to keep track of the route we were taking—three doorways on the right, two on the left, a left turn, a right one—I had to remember how to get back to the spire, in case Chase really didn’t know the way and got confused.

  The Hulk stopped by a keyhole-shaped doorway and pulled aside the curtain. Sitar music and citrus-scented mist wafted out from inside. “Through here,” he said.

  Loti paraded in, pausing long enough to run a finger down his chest and coo, “I’ll save a dream for you.”

  My stomach tensed. I wasn’t sure if she realized genies could physically have sex with people in their dreams or not, but either way I wouldn’t have said that to him.

  “As you wish.” He grinned. With a click of his heels, he left us and headed back the way we’d come.

  Once I was positive he was out of sight, I stepped around Chase to head inside. The harem baths. All we had to do now was find Mother and get back to the spire.

  Chase snatched me by the shoulder, holding me back until he could go ahead. Damn. I’d forgotten. Proper order. Eunuchs last.

  Inside, the mist was intense. Between that, my hood, and the sweat dribbling down my face, it was hard for me to see much. But the room’s floor was tiled, a glossy pattern that resembled peacock feathers.

  I stepped away from Chase and caught a glimpse of columns and statues surrounding a steaming pool. It reminded me of a Roman bath, like the one I’d seen when Dad and I visited England, only instead of sunshine this room was brightened by the eerie glow of gold-and-ruby-colored globes filled with what appeared to be oil and flickering flames.

  No one was in the pool or anywhere around it. But a man in a crisp white robe bustled out from behind a fountain and hurried toward us, a eunuch, I assumed.

  He greeted Lotli with a bow and then spoke to her in a hushed voice, too low for me to understand. Chase folded his arms across his chest and gazed into the distance like a statue. I tried for a moment longer to catch the gist of what the eunuch was saying, but quickly gave up and lowered my gaze to the floor, humble and quiet, hopefully rounding out the perfect picture of a performer and her entourage.

  As I stood there staring at the floor tiles, I started to understand at a deeper level how different life had been for Chase, beyond just the clothing and the spookiness of this place. Or, more correctly, it began to sink in how lucky I’d been to not grow up like this with so many rules about what you could and couldn’t do, rules about who you could be, a lack of choice as painful and deadly as any sword slice or sip of nightshade tea.

  And it wasn’t just Chase who had grown up caged by the commands and whims of others. Lotli had lived under similar circumstances. I mean, I doubted Zea would have killed her or thrown her into an arena full of blood-hungry leopards, but she’d had to kowtow instead of following her own desires.

  “We would like that,” Lotli’s voice rose.

  The white-robed eunuch’s arm swooped out, gesturing for us to follow him. “This way, then.”

  We walked along the line of columns, deeper into the steam, past the sitar player and into a small antechamber. The echo of soft whispers and a girl’s gentle laughter made me glance in their direction.

  Two women dressed similarly to Lotli sat on a long marble bench. White-robed eunuchs knelt in front of them, dipping sponges into bowls of what looked like black tea, and dabbing the women’s legs and feet with the liquid. Two other performers being cleansed, I assumed. But no sign of Mother.

  There were more whispers and three more women came out from a blue-curtained doorway. Well, not exactly women—

  I pressed my fingers against my lips, smothering a gasp. They didn’t have solid bodies like Lotli and me or the two other women performers. Their bodies were ghostly, ethereal, like Lotli and I would have been in this realm without the Methuselah oil. Human women. Captives, most likely. Like my mother. I’d forgotten that she most likely wouldn’t appear solid.

  Fear tumbled through me. I had an image of my mother in my head. But it was created from a patchwork of faint memories, photos taken years ago, and Dad’s descriptions of her beauty and musical voice. “Like a silkie stolen from the sea,” is how he’d described her. But the horrifying truth was—I might not recognize her, especially if she was ethereal.

  I moved in close behind Chase and whispered, “One of them isn’t my mom, right?”

  No, he told me with a shake of his head. A guard came out through the same blue-curtained doorway as the women. He glanced our way. Chase stiffened, bent close to me, and quickly whispered, “Your mother must be with the Sovereign Mistress Vephra. You can’t miss Vephra. She’s tall. Regal. She’ll be with Malphic.”

  “Uh—what do you mean by—” I wanted to ask why he’d said you—as in why I couldn’t miss Vephra—but the guard strode up to us and I silenced my questions.

  The guard focused solely on Lotli as if even the white-robed eunuch who’d escorted us were invisible. “You are here for the cleansing?” he asked her.

  “Yes,” she said. “Should we assume we will be taken to the festival after that?”

  “You will.” He nodded.

  As I watched Lotli and the white-robed eunuch walk toward the cleansing area, a sudden realization came over me. Something was glaringly absent from the room. I poked Chase in the shoulder. “Where are the other performers’ bodyguards and personal eunuchs?”

  “Ah—being prepared,” he whispered.

  Anger and a terrifying suspicion twisted inside me. It took all the control I had to keep my voice hushed. “Prepared for what?”

  The guard cleared his throat. “You”—he pointed at Chase—“are not permitted in this room. Wait there. I’ll find someone to escort you to get your marks, then to the arena.”

  Marks. Arena. Oh my God.

  As Chase dipped his head obediently, I dug my fingernails into his waist, telegraphing a silent message. What the hell’s going on?

  “Change of plans,” he said, his voice super hushed.

  My fingers tightened around my egg pendant, clutching it as if it really could protect us all. “You knew this could happen, didn’t you?”

  He glared back at me. “I thought we’d avoid it.”

  “But you knew?” I realized my voice was rising and clamped my mouth shut.

  Chase’s jaw clenched. “Listen. Don’t trust anyone. Find your mother. Meet us at the arena. We’ll leave from there, before the fights. This is just a little detour, that’s all.”

  A little detour?

  Every nerve ending in my body prickled with anger. But the guard was back, leading Chase off. And I was left standing there by myself—with no idea what to do.

  CHAPTER 25

  The most valuable tributes cannot be measured by scale or rod.

  —Djinn proverb

  I crushed my hands into fists, holding back the urge to scream from frustration. What the hell had Chase been thinking—that we’d luck out and avoid these traditions? Sure, that morning when Lotli had confessed that she and Chase had been planning on coming to the realm alone, he’d mentioned that both attendants weren’t always with the performer. But after that, it hadn’t come up
again, like it wasn’t something that we needed to worry about.

  Hoping to catch Lotli’s eye, I glanced toward where she lounged on the bench with her skirts pulled up to her waist while the white-robed eunuch sponged her thighs. Her arms were sprawled out and her eyes closed like she was getting into it. The only good thing was that there was no way for the eunuch to wipe or wash off the Methuselah oil. Well, that was if I’d been told the truth about the oil.

  I forced my hands to relax and stood up taller. There was another good thing. No one seemed to care about me. Not in the least. And there was a solution to getting out of this: Do as Chase had said. Find my mom.

  As casually as I could, I strolled toward the blue-curtained doorway. On the map Chase had drawn for us, the harem, the bath, and all its chambers were connected. Malphic’s quarters would be nearby and hopefully also Vephra’s.

  Sweat iced my sides as I pushed the curtain aside and stepped into the room beyond. This room was small and narrow, but its ceiling arched way above my head and was studded with chandeliers shaped like intertwined cobras. The walls glistened with swirled patterns of silver and gold, and peacock blue, stunningly regal. Two brown-robed eunuchs sat in straight-backed chairs with their hands steepled and heads bowed. Chances were good they were waiting for the two performers who were being cleansed with Lotli. No doubt, I’d found where I was supposed to be. Now, to figure out where I needed to be.

  I scanned the room. There was a teal carpet and a dark blue one hanging on the walls, and two curtained doorways, similarly colored. The lintel over the door closest to me was unornamented. A crest hung over the other door: a dagger with a moonstone in its handle embraced by a long-stemmed white rose with clawlike thorns. I didn’t need a bigger clue. And I certainly wasn’t going to ask directions to Vephra’s quarters, one wrong word and—

  Shuddering, I banished that thought and beelined for the fancier door as if I knew where I was going.

  On the other side of that doorway was a glittering mirror-tiled room as towering and wide as a cathedral. Long banners of silver cloth draped from the ceiling to the floor and curtained doorways lined both sides. But the place was freaking empty, no eunuchs, warriors, or anyone. And it was eerily silent, unnervingly so, quieter than a tomb. Even as I tiptoed closer to the center of the room, and toward where an island of plush gold furniture and cushions gathered around a flaming pit, I heard nothing—not my footsteps or the crackle of the flames. It was as if sound didn’t exist in the room and couldn’t reach into it either. Biting my lip, I focused all my attention on the island ahead and lengthened my steps.

  The island kind of looked pleasant: potted palms, hip-high vases filled with glass roses, a large cabinet packed with hundreds of liquor bottles. On top of the cabinet were hookahs, and an assortment of decanters and glasses. No surprise: Malphic liked to party.

  An intense jolt of fear nearly stopped me in my tracks, when I noticed the movement of four warriors striding across the room toward me. Freaking hell. I hadn’t even heard them come into the room. For that matter, I couldn’t hear their footsteps now. And they definitely weren’t just guards. These guys had more weapons than Chase and scarves covered the lower half of their faces. Tattoos sleeved their arms. One was missing a hand. Another’s obsidian-dark skin was puckered with partially healed wounds.

  I reached for my dagger, but changed my mind and clutched my flashlight instead. A dagger wouldn’t help me against these warriors. And, considering the room’s brightness, I doubted the flashlight would have any effect on them either. For all I knew, a flashlight couldn’t drive off even a shadow-genie in this realm. Still, holding it gave me a measure of courage.

  Breathless, I minced my way forward toward the furniture and fireplace. When the guards neared me, I dropped my gaze extra low and nodded a greeting. Please let that be humble enough. Please.

  They shoved past me on both sides, like I was a bit of trash on their sidewalk. I kept shuffling on as if I hadn’t noticed them either. But once I reached the fire pit, I glanced back, just in time to see them bully their way through a curtained doorway and vanish.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, I pulled my hood back a little and dabbed the sweat off my face. I was safe, for now. But where should I go from here?

  In front of me, the fire’s silent flames reflected off the liquor cabinet’s glass doors and its rows and rows of lavender and pale sapphire bottles. Scattered in with them were a few black and green ones that might have held wine. If I were a drinker, this would be the perfect time for a bracing shot. But I wasn’t into that and Chase had warned us about the wine. Besides, there was a strange glowing symbol on the cabinet, most likely a spell to keep the uninvited out. It was shaped like Chase’s brand: the djinn word for slave.

  My stomach clenched, nausea coming over me as I took another look at the bottles. Fuck. They weren’t liquor bottles. Inside them, ghostly shadows coiled and curled. Human women, and most likely men as well. Malphic’s concubines, bottled up like Chase had said, waiting until Malphic desired their company.

  Legs weakening, I clutched the back of a divan to keep from sinking down. Mother. I’d never be able to tell which bottle was hers. I closed my eyes, squeezing that thought from my mind. Chase had said she’d be with Vephra. He never mentioned the chance of her being bottled up. Still, she’d spent fifteen years in this harem, undoubtedly sometimes trapped in a bottle just like this. Maybe not always, but even once had to be terrifying. What had those years done to her? What if she was so beaten down that she no longer wanted to be rescued? What if that’s why she gave up her own chance at freedom to let Chase escape through the veil instead?

  Tears burned in my eyes. I clamped my hand over my mouth and fled across the room, the noiselessness of my footfalls making my flight feel even more unreal. I had to get out of here. I couldn’t think of Mother like that: bottled up, a prisoner. If only I’d told Grandmother that I had seen her with Malphic, if only I hadn’t lied, then none of this would have happened. None of it.

  I flew through the closest curtained doorway. I couldn’t bear to look at those bottles. I had to—

  The roar of voices slammed against my ears, like a radio suddenly turned on.

  I skittered to a stop. The room was full of regal men, dozens of them, some in floor-length tunics and others in robes, all dripping with jewelry and crowding around with chalices cupped in their hands, bragging, arguing, wagering with one another. In among them were warriors and guards who looked a hundred times fancier than those I’d run into so far, and eunuchs wandering through the noisy crowd with trays of tiny roasted . . . I really wasn’t sure what they were serving, maybe tiny birds or lizards and weird sugared fruits.

  Along one wall, the aurora’s light filtered in through windows draped with gold curtains as sheer and flowing as Lotli’s veils. Tight in front of the windows there was a line of columns. Head down, I made for the closest column. Slipping behind it, I crouched with one hand resting on the floor and looked out at the crowd.

  Earlier, I’d feared I might not recognize my mother and that still was likely to be the case, if there were even any women here. But it took me less than a second to spot Malphic.

  His stance was wide, his head thrown back as he laughed: shaved head and trimmed black beard, long dark tunic as padded and studded as armor, white sash, loose white pants, and tall boots. Tucked into his sash was a knife identical to the one Chase had taken from him, the knife that also served as Malphic’s branding iron. I didn’t recall him being as heavily tattooed on his neck and face, but he was shadowed with them now.

  Raising my head a bit more, I spotted Vephra. As tall as Malphic, she held her head high as she talked with an older man. Her sinewy arms gestured with every word, flashes of candlelight glinting off her wide gold cuffs. Her head and shoulders were covered with a long drape of ivory scarves held in place by a headdress of pewter and gold braids. Her dress was also ivory, sleek and simple from what I could see of it. She was stunning, her ski
n as smooth and rich as copper. One tilt of her dark eyebrows and the man she was talking to bowed his head. Clearly, she was no one’s slave nor was she subservient to any man. She clearly was something else, though: pregnant. Very pregnant.

  Malphic must have said something important because Vephra and the older man shifted toward him to listen. That was when I noticed a huddled group of seven women, their ornately scarf-draped heads demurely dipped as they talked among themselves. Behind each of them, brown-robed eunuchs waited, like dreary sparrows attending a flock of bejeweled canaries.

  Another eunuch came by with a tray of glittering fruit. Two of the women looked up toward him—and I saw their faces.

  Oh my God. I clamped my hands over my mouth to keep the words from escaping. Their heads might have been draped, but their faces weren’t—that is, what passed for their faces.

  Instead of skin and normal features, their faces were nothing more than smooth silk with hollows where eyes should be and rises in place of noses and cheekbones. Chase had warned me about this that night at the bonfire, how the human women wore special robes designed to give their ethereal bodies form. But this . . . They looked like scarecrows with stuffed silk stockings for heads instead of burlap bags, and bodies created from jeweled sarongs instead of overalls and flannel shirts. It was perverse, almost more horrifying than being kept in a bottle or jar.

  But—I bit down on a smile and slunk to my feet—it was also a good thing. If Chase was right about Mother being near Vephra, then one of these women was likely my mother. But how could I tell which one?

  Adrenaline drummed in my veins as I bowed my head and drifted out from behind the column. I had to take the chance. I’d never figure out who she was without getting close. And—if I could find her quickly—then we could get Lotli and Chase and leave this realm before any of us had to go near the arena.

  I snatched a wine decanter off a table and shuffled toward the group of faceless women all holding chalices. I glanced to make sure I was giving Malphic and Vephra a wide berth. The last thing I needed was for them to notice my existence. Maybe my robe blended in with the other brown eunuchs, but I was by far the most petite one in the room. Also, the mitts might have covered my hands, but the reach of my fingers round the decanter’s neck was decidedly not guy-like.