by Tia Reed
The voice sent a shiver down her spine. Unwilling but without choice, she turned to face Lord Hudassan.
“Do as I say.”
She complied, laying her mother’s wrap on the bed. Already she had learned the price of disobedience, a slap from this man when she excused herself without seeking permission.
“That is an etiquette I have taught,” Safra had informed her husband in twisted delight. Hiding a smirk, the new shahbanu watched him mete the discipline out. Mariano’s lips had tightened, his eyes narrowed, but he had said nothing. In truth, the slap had wounded only her battered pride.
“Did Father not exact a promise they would treat me with respect?” she had later accused her brother.
“You must not show defiance,” Mariano had replied.
“Would you treat an ill wife this way?” She had turned from him, refusing to speak further. Pointless arguing the act had been an oversight. Hudassan had so many rules, she might follow them only by grovelling at the feet of every male in the land.
Until now, Vae’oenka had taken pity on her. The night of the wedding Ahkdul had collapsed on his bed, snoring as soon as his head hit the pillow. She had taken the armchair, fretting until sleep claimed her at dawn. When she awoke, Safra was standing over her, pinched of face and critical of eye. Ahkdul’s mother looked her creased nightgown up and down, unbolted an interior door and installed her in the adjoining chamber. It was larger than the room they had given her as a maid, with plain furniture made elegant through its simple lines and dainty frame. The bed was decked with a coverlet of a heavy, exotic fabric and sat opposite the internal door. There was no latch on her side, of course. As a Verdaani wife, she awaited her husband’s pleasure. Indifferent to any punishment it would earn, ignoring the nausea which had dogged her onto dry land, she attempted to drag a dressing table in front of the door. She need not have taken the trouble. It was not an hour before Safra found out and ordered it removed from the room.
That night, as she returned to her chamber, she faced a frightened boy being dragged Ahkdul’s way. What horror he faced, she could well imagine. Dear Timak had once confessed he wished the swine wed so he might be spared. Unable to bear the guilt, she banged on the connecting door. The swine ignored her. Safra did not. The shahbanu threw wide the door to the hall, a look of contempt on her austere face.
“You will serve the shah and his heir by producing offspring with decent inclinations. Until then, you will not call attention to my son’s shortcomings.” She departed as abruptly as she had arrived, leaving the door wide open.
Closing her eyes, Kordahla had taken a steadying breath.
Nerves tingling, she did the same now. Hudassan crossed to the nightstand, lighting the candles she had not bothered with, glancing at her at every opportunity.
“Tiarasae,” the self-proclaimed shah murmured, as he shook the taper to douse the flame. With careless malice, he threw it onto the veil. Disgusted, she moved to reclaim the beloved covering before it smouldered. Hudassan stepped so close his garlicky breath tickled her cheek. “I believed the rumours exaggerated. Had I known I would have negotiated for you on my own behalf.” Her sharp breath was audible. He planted his feet apart and his hands behind his back, the posture of a military man. “You are here to ensure the continuation of my line. If Ahkdul does not perform his duty, I will arrange it.”
She snatched up the veil as he left. She was still shaking when Safra entered with a maid, who cajoled her into a filmy nightgown that left the Myklaani choli looking innocent. Her cheeks burning, she slid beside the nightstand, crossing an arm in front of her. Let its bulk conceal what this woman had no right to force her to reveal.
“If you have any sense of what’s good for you, you will use your body to snap some sense into my son.” The words held such venom, Kordahla wondered how much of Hudassan’s plan this woman had deduced.
The bolt on the interior door scraped out of its hold. Kordahla started. Safra shooed the maid away but lingered outside long enough to ensure that her son, clad in nothing but his undertrousers, entered the room. She closed the hall door as Ahkdul closed the interior one on Hudassan. She swallowed. Her despicable husband’s hands were curled at his side and she could make out his teeth through his lips.
“I will be shah and I will have a son to continue my line.” The look of distaste on his face was plain.
She closed her eyes. “Dear Vae’oenka, please, no.”
His detached coupling complete, Ahkdul rolled out of bed. Without looking at her, he pulled on his undertrousers.
“Think of our son on the throne,” he said. “For him, we will pursue this arrangement.”
For him, and no one else. And so she lay still, her heart thumping, erratic as it waited for his order to rise that he might check the sheets. When he returned straight to his own room, relief washed over her, bringing with it brutal exhaustion. Vae’oenka admonish her, but she was glad he was not the first man she had known. Matisse’s passion, as selfish as Ahkdul’s use, had at least gifted her knowledge of love. Her hand found the watermelon gem on her breast as she drifted into fanciful memories. For tonight, she would allow herself that. Would allow her weary mind to imagine a heated argument in which she had the courage to confront Matisse. To denounce him. To fall into his arms in forgiveness. Except it was Arun who, ignoring Matisse’s yells, was drawing her close for the bliss of a lingering kiss.
She woke with a start. Raised voices from behind the door set her on edge. She was about to blow out the candles when the interior door clicked open. Even in candlelight she could not mistake Hudassan’s short frame.
“No.” she said, frozen in her fear.
“Get up.”
She could not move. The outer door swung open. Scarred Kahlmed, flanked by two guards, was tapping his fingers on the hilt of his sword.
“Get up before they drag you up.”
Drawing the quilt around her, she rose with all the dignity of a Terlaani princess.
“You confessed to dishonour.” Though his eyes glittered, they were hard.
She lifted her chin. “Your son was prepared to disbelieve me.”
“My son is a fool. Unlike him, I am disinclined to take the word of a Terlaani mahktashaan whose memory discomforts you. Remove the bedcovers.”
“I will not.”
A sharp gesture of Hudassan’s finger brought one of the guards inside. “You will bear Ahkdul’s heir. Blood honour will determine whether I permit you to live beyond that use.” He nodded. The guard dragged the covers onto the floor. Kordahla held her breath.
Golden light burst across the room, filling it with the sweet scent of orchid, frangipane and rose. In its centre, golden smoke spiralled into the form of an exquisite woman. The men froze. Kordahla fell to her knees.
“Come child.” The Queen of the Genies offered a shimmering hand.
As if in a dream, Kordahla rose. At Tiarasae’s smile, she laid her fingers across the genie’s silky palm. The queen turned her towards the bed. Neither Hudassan, whose foot was lifted, nor the guard, bent over to deposit the covers he still clutched on the floor, had moved a muscle. Their blank eyes stared at the wrinkled sheet.
“This I will do for you, though you do not ask it. It is the favour you have not claimed,” the Queen of the Genies said. Her voice was a joyous melody, an ethereal song.
Hudassan’s fierce threat had settled on Kordahla like a heavy cloak. “Your Majesty, if you would aid me, let them strike me down.”
“Breaking the rules, o sister mine?” a hated voice drawled. In the midst of a fishy gust, the indigo djinn popped into the room, a hulking giant above Tiarasae. “Shall I tattle to Mahktos you offered a boon without a deal?” Vermillion eyes flashing, he bore down on the Queen.
The light around Tiarasae pulsed. The djinn persisted. Tiarasae’s halo wavered. Snarling, the djinn pressed into the light. A fleeting strain passed over the genie’s face as the djinn moved closer and closer. Kordahla edged towards the outer door.
“I grow strong, Tiarasae.”
A bead of sweat ran from beneath the genie’s diamond tiara, and the glow in her crystal joints dulled. The indigo djinn pushed a hand through the halo. The golden light flashed to searing intensity. Indigo yelped and flew back, flipping as he met the wall. He shot straight at the genie. His head turned into an obsidian arrowhead but the light held against his assault. He pushed forward with a grunt. The arrow tip slid through the halo. He spiralled, letting the sharp tip of his head rip through her defence. Tiarasae dropped to one knee.
“Yield. You are no longer worthy to lead.”
Even in imminent defeat, the queen’s head remained high. A more elegant being could not exist. “And you who draws power from the plane of darkness are?” She held up a hand. It halted the arrow tip.
The djinn snarled. “You think you are privy to my secrets?” The arrow pressed in. Tiarasae’s hand gave way.
“A witness testifies.”
The snarl turned to a growl. “The djinn dismiss the ravings of a new-born child.”
“They will believe me.”
He spat. “She will pay.”
Tiarasae’s hand shook. It was close to her chest now. “Has she not already?”
Indigo’s laugh chilled Kordahla to the bone. “Not for her betrayal.”
Tiarasae shook her head. “The rose genie was your salvation.”
“She refused to see the possibilities.”
“She was innocent.” The genie turned her head to Kordahla. “As is this human child.”
“This puny dung beetle dealt. She is mine.”
Tiarasae pushed the djinn. He retreated to the edge of her light. The golden light rippled out, forcing him from her. He snarled and grew until he dominated the room.
Kordahla slunk closer to the door. Indigo zipped behind her. His dank, fishy breath surrounded her. His hand whipped around, his finger becoming a dagger which he pointed at her heart. “She wishes to die. She said as much.” His lips nibbled at her nape. His tongue ran up to her ear. He laughed as she tensed.
“Tell the pretty queen to go away. The disgrace of a hostage princess is a private act.”
“I will not deal.”
“Did I ask you to deal, dung beetle?”
Vae’oenka gave her the strength to straighten her shoulders even as her legs shook. “Do you make a request?” So had the rose genie done, and she had spoken of playing by the rules. “I will tell her to go if you will recant your claim to Xander.”
With a snarl, the djinn released her. Towering over her, he dropped his huge head to hers. His vermillion eyes flashed malice. “You dare to renege on your deal?”
She dropped the bedcover, that she might stand as regal as the queen. “You initiated this. By your rules, I may profit from the favour you seek.”
A small smile played about Tiarasae’s lips. “Mortals begin to glean our nature. You are outwitted, indigo brother.”
Baring his teeth, the djinn growled. “Favour her, Tiarasae. Mahktos will have no choice but to punish your crime.”
“I pay a debt, as well you are aware.”
“You cannot bestow what she does not want.”
“But I may grant that which she is not yet aware she needs.”
The snarling djinn banged his fists together and disappeared with a soft wup and a puff of smoke.
Kordahla faced the queen. Her scent, orchid, jasmine and rose, was intoxicating. Were it not for the steadying hand she placed on the bedpost, she would have fallen. “Why does he plague me?”
Tiarasae shook her head. “He wants nothing good,” she said, which was no answer. A tear glistened in the corner of her eye, and by this did Kordahla understand the profound cost to the ethereal queen.
She returned to her knees, for what was the worth of her life? Forces beyond the ken of men battled to their own ends with no thought to those on the earth. Two creatures of the heavens had sought her out. It was conceit to think she would not cave to temptation. In the tales, great heroes had succumbed. “If you would help me, set me free of the swine.”
The compassion in Tiarasae’s heart-shaped face brought a tear to her eye. With a regretful shake of her head, the Queen of the Genies brushed a hand against Kordahla’s face. “Alas, that opportunity has passed you by. You are bound by marriage. As impious a union as it is, Vae’oenka would not approve.” She held out her hands, drew Kordahla up. “Have courage, Princess Kordahla. What I gift you is precious beyond your understanding.” She began to fade. “My debt is paid.” Her translucent form turned to spiralling, golden smoke. It curled to the ceiling and disappeared to the ripple of a harp.
At once, Hudassan set his foot down.
“My lord,” the guard said with a bow. He retreated, closing the door.
There on the sheet were spots of blood.
Hudassan delivered a stinging slap. “I do not tolerate liars.” Unable to hide his arousal, he turned from her. “Cover yourself. Your skin is for your husband alone. Not even in solitude may a woman reveal her own flesh beyond what is needed for hygiene.”
Refusing to cower, she stood tall until he left, pulling the door closed with a quiet click. For no reason she could name, she collapsed to her knees and wept.
Chapter 55
CONCENTRATE!”
How had Vinsant known Levi was going to say that? He planted his feet a little further apart. Being dragged out of a deep, warm slumber at the crack of dawn was not conducive to learning a new magical feat but his mouth was closed tight. So far, his raging mentor had demanded nothing more than he twink between one room and the next. He had to admit it was useful practice. He was near instantaneous in his appearances now.
“You will give me the opportunity to reach the library and then you will twink into the middle of the room.”
“Yes, Majoria.”
Waiting for the Majoria to thougthspeak he could twink was easy. Wiping smug off his face when he caught the majoria concentrating hard was a major battle. He’d bet his Myklaani sword Levi was attempting to mimic his feat. The brilliant thing was, the majoria was so rapt in exploring the limits of Vinsant’s unique power he hadn’t once hinted at reproof for Vinsant’s escapade with Sian. He had even accepted Vinsant’s name for his feat. Twink. It had a nice ring to it. It meant something, too: to wink out like a djinn, with a t in front for transport. Not that Levi had bothered to ask.
“To your chamber. Bring an item as proof and return,” Levi commanded.
“Vappellmos.” He hadn’t made the magic word up. It had kind appeared deep inside him, and saying it did make twinking easier. He appeared beside the bed, caught sight of the gold-hilted Myklaani sword and had a brilliant idea. Closing his eyes he visualised a statue on a wide street. They were supposed to be common in Myklaan. Cold choked him. A sudden whiteness engulfed him as he focused on what he knew of the realm. He appeared in the light of the afternoon sun opposite a statue of Guntek.
“Look out!”
Horses neighed. Vinsant spun to see a carriage careening towards him. A lanky man crashed into him, propelling him out of the way of the racing vehicle.
“You thick leech!” the driver yelled without slowing.
His rescuer glared down at him. “You got soup for brains, boy?”
“Thank you and no.” Vinsant picked himself up and looked around. There was a vague familiarity about the place. “Can you tell me the way to the palace?”
“The palace. This is Dnea, boy, not Tarana.”
“Dnea? I’m not in Myklaan?”
The man swerved away. “You covering some disease, dressed like that? Get out of here. Go on, get.”
Vinsant dropped his hood to reveal his crimson eyes and tapped his quartz. “No disease. Just magic. And that is no way to talk to a prince of Terlaan.” And with that, he transported himself to his room. Let the ignorant fools wonder about his disappearance while he mused on his failure.
It didn’t take long to figure out he couldn’t twink anywhere h
e was not familiar with. Even so he had had to endure an interminable lecture from Levi about the dangers twinking could entail. Whew! He had figured out for himself he might end up in front of a carriage or in a rock or even fused to another person. Still, he kept his mouth shut. No sense in courting the punishment he had evaded.
“You may return to your regular lessons,” Levi said at last.
In the library, Vinsant summoned three pomegranates and tossed one each to Naikil and Gram. They stared at him open-mouthed.
“So what magic can you do?” he asked. Branak had left them to attend a meeting of senior mahktashaan. The war effort, the Apprentice-master had informed them. The other boys had stared sombre. Vinsant had tried not to whoop. It was the perfect opportunity to get up to no good.
Naikil squinted and levitated a dog-eared notebook off a corner table in the library. Vinsant whipped it out of his control and into his hands.
“Yes. That was my first lesson,” he said, pulling down his hood. It was way cool how they went wide-eyed every time they saw his crimson eyes, even if they had stopped mentioning it.
“How long did it take you to learn?” Gram asked. He had lost some weight, not enough to be any good at swordplay.
Vinsant gave a small shrug as he dispelled the notebook to the table. “A few hours.”
An older apprentice buried in a thick book over in the far corner gave them a warning look. They ignored him.
“A major moon’s punishment in the Crystalite Mines,” Naikil said, folding his arms. Like he wasn’t jealous. For some reason, he wasn’t looking so tall.
“A minor moon. The rest was travel time. Anyway, all apprentices go there. When they’re ready. But you have to do something to prove your worth first.” He hoped they didn’t see the older apprentice roll his eyes.
“Yeah? Like what?” Naikil asked, moving his hands to his hips.
Vinsant shrugged. He lowered his voice. “Like fooling the guards.” News of yesterday’s exploit was the talk of the entire body of apprentices which was just as well if their gossip had been centering on his sentence at the mines. Naikil’s eyes narrowed. Vinsant chuckled. “Why do think they haven’t punished me?”