Mark of the Djinn: A Young Adult Urban Fantasy Romance

by Shiulie Ghosh

  “Hold your horses, Sam,” I told myself. “Let’s at least wait till you’re cleaned up.”

  A woman popped out of the bathroom, startling me. She gave me a shy smile.

  “Bath ready, ma’am.” That was the second person who’d called me ‘ma’am’.

  “Call me Sam,” I told her with a smile. She nodded.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She hurried out of my room in case I gave her another impossible request. I went to look at the bath, and nearly laughed at the crazy extravagance of it.

  It was a sunken pool with steps leading into it, filled with fragrant bubbles and flower petals. A huge pile of towels was balanced at one end. And there were dozens of bottles of lotions and potions and gels and creams.

  I was just hoping one of them would sort out the tangled mess currently masquerading as my hair.

  I stripped off, leaving my filthy clothes in a pile on the floor, and stepped into the warm water.

  There were curved seats around the edge, and I sank into one of them with a sigh. The bubbles came up to my neck, and I could practically feel the stress of the past few hours melt away.

  Now that I was alone, I could test my power to make sure it had fully returned. I held up my right hand, fingers splayed, and called up a small whirlwind. It swirled around the centre of my palm, a tiny tornado, almost invisible except for the dust-motes it pulled into its vortex.

  I let it hover there, contained by my will, the sensation of it eerily similar to the touch of Raj’s lips just a few minutes ago.

  I moved it idly from one hand to another, stretching it between the two and then compressing it into a dense ball.

  If I wanted to, I could expand it into a cyclone and suck up everything in this room. Or I could channel it into a steady stream, an invisible battering ram with the force of a hurricane able to smash down walls and throw people off their feet.

  Or, as I demonstrated now, I could make it into a feather-light cushion of air that could float anything I wanted straight to my hand – like the bottle of shampoo now gliding silently from the other side of the bath.

  This was what made me such a killer pickpocket.

  I released the captive air molecules, allowing them to dissipate, catching the bottle neatly as it was released.

  This was my power. The dominion of air. I could shape it, direct it, control its volume and force. And yet I had no real idea of its limits.

  The only time I had lost control of it was when I discovered my parents had died. I’d unleashed a gale force wind. I had been five years old.

  Gran had taken me in when I was orphaned. She had power too, way more than me. She could control fire. Little or big, it didn’t matter. Light a candle, or create an inferno. Hold a cinder on her palm, or shoot it across a room.

  She could even dance tiny blue flames across our kitchen table and make them pirouette for me like ballerinas.

  Gran was the one who had taught me to control my ability. And even though she would disapprove of how I used it, she had also taught me to live life on my terms, and no-one else’s. She’d raised me to be independent.

  Tears pricked at my eyes. I thought my fierce grandmother would live forever. But not even she could stave off old age.

  Abruptly I slid under the water, letting it close over my head and staying under as long as possible. I listened to the sound of my own heartbeat, and wondered if I’d ever stop missing her.

  She was gone. There was just me now, and I had to take care of myself. And if I played my cards right, I’d have a rich prince to help me do it.

  Chapter Six

  I wrapped myself in a towel as soft and fluffy as a cloud, and went to stand on my balcony.

  Raj had chosen well. The view here was spectacular. A garden of wild roses filled the air with their luscious scent, and beyond them rolling fields of emerald green extended down to a crystal blue lake. I breathed it all in, wondering if my gran had grown up surrounded by similar beauty.

  I caught movement from the corner of my eye and turned to see a horse and rider galloping towards the palace.

  The horse was magnificent, its black mane whipping in the wind as it raced over the fields. But the rider was no less impressive.

  He sat easily in the saddle, his body undulating gracefully to match the rhythm of his steed. A black and white checked kufiya was wrapped about his head and neck, but his white shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a flash of tanned chest.

  He pulled his mount to a halt by the rose garden, the stallion rearing a little and prancing on the spot, clearly keen to keep going. The man slid off his back, and soothed the horse with quiet words.

  I watched from my balcony, confident he wouldn’t see me. But as if he could feel the weight of my stare, he turned and looked up.

  For a moment I was pinned by his gaze. My heart beat a little faster, as if I’d been caught doing something wrong. But that was ridiculous, I told myself. I wasn’t a trespasser, I was a guest.

  Nevertheless, I ducked back into the safety of my room, only breathing again when I escaped from his sight. When I peered out again nervously, both he and the horse had gone.

  I ran my fingers through my hair, towelling it off and shaking out the excess water. I knew if it dried naturally, it would curl into soft waves down my back, and I wished there were straighteners or a hairdryer I could use. But though there was make-up on the dresser, the only thing I could find for my tresses was a light argan oil which I palmed through the ends, hoping that would smooth them.

  The dressing room was full of women’s clothing of all types and sizes; Middle Eastern, Western, Indian, even some North African kaftans. I wondered wryly just how many women Raj had entertained here.

  I dithered for a moment, then settled for a dusky pink cocktail dress which stopped just above my knee. The shade complemented my skin and made it glow. It wasn’t the normal modest clothing a woman would wear in this part of the world, and to be honest it wasn’t my style at all. But I knew Raj would appreciate it.

  I didn’t usually wear make-up, but since this was a special occasion I applied kohl liner to my lids and darkened my lashes with mascara. I wanted to accentuate the amber flecks in my eyes. The colour of magic, my gran had called them.

  I pulled on some heels from the vast selection on the shelf, a pair of diamante-encrusted sandals that added two inches to my height. Satisfied, I checked my reflection in the full length mirror. Raj wouldn’t be able to resist.

  I took a deep breath as I opened the door to my room, and nearly walked straight into the man standing on the other side.

  It was the rider I’d seen earlier. Up close, I saw he was younger than I had first thought, maybe nineteen or twenty, a year or two older than me. But his eyes were far older, and his expression was granite.

  He looked me up and down as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. His lip curled.

  “And just who the hell are you?”

  The insolence in his voice made my hackles rise. I lifted my chin and replied coldly.

  “I am a guest of His Highness the prince.”

  “Not another of Raj’s bimbos?”

  His rudeness took my breath away.

  “How dare you? He’s just helping me out.” My subconscious was trying to tell me something, but I was too irritated to listen. “Because he’s a gentleman. Unlike you, you chauvinist pig.”

  His eyebrows shot up, and I had the feeling women usually didn’t speak to him like this. He looked at me appraisingly.

  “You aren’t his normal fare, that’s for sure.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Raj enjoys the company of women who are extraordinarily beautiful, and extraordinarily compliant.”

  I was stung. Okay, I wasn’t a top model but I’d made an effort.

  “Maybe he got bored and wanted a change,” I snapped.

  “Well, my brother does get bored easily.”

  My brother.

  I belatedly realised what m
y subconscious had been trying to tell me. I should have realised it immediately. I should have seen it in the way he carried himself, his confidence, his casual disdain. I should have remembered those chiselled cheekbones and stern features.

  Shit.

  I was looking at the man from the portrait at the airport. In a panic I stepped backwards and teetered on my stupidly high heels. I flung my arms out for balance, and he caught me before I fell. Mortified, I struggled upright, my cheeks flaming.

  “I… I apologise, your majesty,” I said awkwardly, wondering if I should curtsy.

  “It’s your Highness,” he drawled. “I’m a prince, not a king. One of the oddities of this place. Though not the biggest oddity, I see.”

  His eyes raked over me, narrowing when they lighted on the serpent-shaped mark on my arm. I bit down a retort. I didn’t know much about diplomacy, but I knew I probably shouldn’t antagonize the ruler. I tried to explain my presence.

  “Look, I’m not here because I’m a… a…”

  “Gold-digger? Opportunist? Tramp?”

  “Are you always such a prick?”

  The words were out before I could stop them. I stared at him, aghast, cursing my temper.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that, I’ve just had a tough day and…”

  He grasped my chin, forcing me to look up at him and my voice dried.

  “Make no mistake,” he said softly, “my brother is charming, but he is fickle. When he tires of you, and he will, you and your foul mouth will be removed from my property immediately.”

  He turned on his heel and stalked across the courtyard. I waited till he’d gone before wilting, clutching at the wall for support.

  What an arrogant jerk. But he was perceptive too, and he hadn’t been wrong when he called me an opportunist. He was trouble I didn’t need.

  I gritted my teeth, making up my mind. I’d only stay long enough to get my new passport, but while I was here I’d pocket a few expensive souvenirs that wouldn’t be missed. Enough to pay for a first class air ticket home at least. These guys wouldn’t miss it. And maybe I could have some fun with Raj while I did it.

  He was definitely the nicer prince. As for Dhav, I’d just have to keep out of his way for the next few days.

  Raj was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. He gave a low whistle when he caught sight of me, and I mentally gave myself a pat on the back.

  “You look ravishing, my princess,” he said, taking my hand for the last few steps.

  He looked pretty good himself, in his well-cut shirt and a fresh pair of tight-fitting trousers.

  “Should I ask why there’s a wardrobe full of women’s clothing and make-up in my room?” I asked. “Do you often have female guests dropping in on you?”

  “Alas, it is one of many inconveniences of being a bachelor. It seems to draw the ladies like bees to honey.”

  “What, you mean, women are attracted to rich single good-looking princes? Shocker.”

  “You may not believe this, but I’m quite bored of entertaining ambitious social climbers with only one thing on their mind. Marriage.”

  “As opposed to the one thing on your mind,” I teased. “I think there are several women whose windows you’ve climbed out of who’d attest to that.”

  He shrugged.

  “I do like the chase, it is true. But as soon as they start to like me, I lose interest. Of course, I could always make an exception.” He leaned close and whispered in my ear. “I still remember how your lips taste.”

  I pushed him away lightly. If he enjoyed the chase, I’d have to give him one.

  “The only thing I’m interested in right now is food. I’m starving.”

  “Then let us eat. This way, my princess.”

  The dining room was dominated by the biggest chandelier I’d ever seen. It cascaded from the ceiling in blue crystals, like a waterfall frozen mid-tumble. The mahogany table in the centre of the room was long enough for fifty guests. Two place settings had been put at one end, and I sighed in relief. Evidently we wouldn’t have to bellow at each other across the length of the table.

  “So tell me about your country,” I said as a waiter placed the first course in front of us. “I’ve never even heard of Ashfahaan before.”

  “It is only a hundred years old. Before that, our people were desert dwellers. Nomads. Very poor. But our fortunes changed. Now we are a proud nation, small yet wealthy enough to hold our own.”

  I took a forkful of fish and nearly swooned. It was delicious.

  “Where does its wealth come from? Oil?”

  “Gemstones. Ashfahaan has the some of the largest deposits of high-quality sapphires in the world.”

  I nearly choked.

  “Sapphires? Wow. I’d, um, love to see some.” And if possible, stuff some into my pockets.

  “You can see them from here, my princess.” He pointed to the chandelier above our heads. “The blue stones are all sapphires.”

  My jaw dropped. They were just hanging there like precious fruit, ripe for the picking.

  “They’re beautiful,” I murmured weakly, mentally calculating how much the chandelier was worth.

  “Almost as beautiful as you.” Raj leaned forward and tucked a stray curl behind my ear. “Tell me, how did you get such extraordinary eyes?”

  I batted them slowly, conscious of how close he was. The top button of his shirt was undone, and I wondered briefly what it would be like to unbutton it further.

  “The usual way. From my mother. And grandmother. It’s a family trait.”

  “I could drown in them, my princess. They are the colour of polished onyx flecked with amber, radiant and lustrous.” His gaze flickered to my mouth. “Almost as exquisite as your lips, as deliciously soft and ripe as a sweet strawberry…”

  “I hope I’m not interrupting?”

  I jumped as a voice drawled sarcastically from behind us. Oh no, I thought. Not him again.

  “Dhav!” Raj straightened up guiltily. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

  “Evidently.” He took a seat on the other side of me, sprawling gracefully in the chair. Unlike his brother, he was dressed casually in a linen shirt and a pair of jeans. Only the Rolex on his wrist hinted at his wealth. “I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced?”

  “This is Samira, Sam for short. Sam, this is my brother His Highness Prince Dhavani.”

  “How do you do, Samira, Sam for short.”

  He took my hand in his long, cool fingers and pressed it briefly. So he was pretending to be civil now? Well, two could play that game.

  “So very nice to meet you, your Highness,” I murmured demurely.

  “And to what do we owe the…” he paused deliberately, “…pleasure of your company?”

  “Sam and I got into a spot of trouble. She helped me, then I helped her. It was a blast.”

  Raj grinned that rascally grin of his, and I couldn’t help smiling back. Dhav’s stern voice was like having cold water poured over me.

  “What trouble did you get yourself into this time, little brother?”

  Raj had the grace to look embarrassed.

  “The usual. Only this time the husband called some thugs and they threw me in the back of a van for a flogging. Luckily, this beauteous heroine managed to steal the key to my handcuffs from one of the goons.”

  “Steal? So you’re a thief?”

  Dhav’s eyes narrowed and I was careful to keep my expression neutral. The last thing I wanted was to alert him to my particular talents.

  “Of course I’m not a thief,” I said coolly. “I just got lucky.”

  “Indeed.” His tone made it clear he was far from convinced. “I trust the family silver will be safe during your stay?”

  I carefully took another mouthful of food, concentrating on chewing so I wouldn’t rip into him with both barrels. Raj tried to smooth over the situation.

  “Stop being a grouch, Dhav, and listen. Sam was being sold to Al Uddin.”

 
Dhav straightened up in his seat.

  “Al Uddin? Those were his men?”

  Raj shook his head doubtfully.

  “I don’t think so, I think they were just run-of-the-mill gangsters. They definitely didn’t recognise me. I think they targeted Sam as part of their trafficking operation, then realised she fit the description.”

  “Description?” I put down my fork, intrigued. “What description?”

  “Al Uddin’s spread the word that he’ll pay a small fortune for girls with certain characteristics. One of them is a snake tattoo.”

  “That seems very specific. Any idea why?”

  “Who knows?” said Raj. “Al Uddin is crazy. No-one’s seen him for decades, he just sits in his tower and issues orders.”

  I was disconcerted to find his brother studying me. He tapped a finger thoughtfully on the table.

  “Raj, who does she remind you of?”

  “I don’t know, bro. You’re the one with the encyclopedic memory.”

  Dhav’s stare was unnerving.

  “Tell me about Al Uddin,” I said, trying to distract him. “Raj mentioned his family and yours have a feud?”

  “Glad to see my little brother remembers some of our ancestral history,” he said drily. “That is correct. The Al Uddins and the Javars used to be allies. The Al Uddins ruled and the Javars were their closest advisors. But they fell out over the Al Uddins’ use of… I suppose you could call them slaves. The Javars were banished to the desert, where they barely survived. The centuries passed and the Al Uddins grew in power, until one day my great, great grandfather stole something from them and the tables were turned.”

  “What did he steal?” I was fascinated.

  “Their magic.”

  I laughed, but Dhav’s face was deadly serious.

  “Magic? Is this one of those urban myths? Or some kind of allegory?”

  “Come on brother, these are just fairy tales,” scoffed Raj. “Don’t tell me you believe them?”

  “I’m not saying I believe them. I just know that the Al Uddin empire fell almost overnight. Now the last remaining Al Uddin is searching for girls with strange markings.”