The Jinni Key

by Bethany Atazadeh

  I shook off the direction of my thoughts, deciding to simply tell Gideon the truth. I think... it’s not so much a ploy as it is that... she may have a bit of a crush on you.

  I could almost feel the stunned mental silence as Gideon processed this. The crunch of dirt under our feet was the only sound as we neared the village.

  A crush... truly?

  I hadn’t known a thought could hold such a tone, but I found myself holding back a laugh at his complete and utter shock. A Jinni male was no different from a human male when it came to reading women, it would seem.

  Why else do you think she wants to spend an entire day with you? I countered, glancing over at him with a small smile. If all the men, Mere, and Jinni I knew were lumped together, Gideon would be one of those I trusted most. I’d come to think of him as a true friend.

  We walked back to town, entering the busy streets once more, as Gideon seemed to ponder my words. He nodded to himself so slightly I doubted the others noticed, then threw a quick thought to me. Might as well get it over with, then.

  Even as the thought reached me, Gideon strode ahead to join Bosh and Rena. “How would you like our day together to begin?” he asked Rena politely, and, ever the gentleman, he nodded to Bosh as well, “You’re welcome to join us if you’d like.”

  Bosh opened his mouth to answer, but was saved from the awkwardness by Rena shaking her head adamantly. “Not if you want the day together to count. It has to be just you and me.”

  Gideon didn’t say a word, but the stiffness in his spine and stride spoke volumes. I covered my mouth, stifling a laugh.

  Chapter 26

  Rena

  GIDEON WAS A PERFECT gentleman, just as I’d always believed him to be. Except it was nothing like I’d imagined. It was absolutely boring.

  “What do you desire to eat?”

  “Where would you like to go?”

  “As you wish.”

  No apparent thoughts or opinions of his own! The conversation felt stilted and one-sided as I babbled about back home, trying to let him get to know me, to see if he would finally remember that we’d met.

  No luck.

  He just listened absently, as if with half his attention, always able to repeat back to me what I said, but I got the distinct feeling he didn’t care at all.

  We sat on a grassy hilltop looking down on the village from above with hands still sticky from our lunch. Well, mine anyway. Gideon had stretched out a hand, pulling a soft blue handkerchief out of thin air and wiped his hands clean, but hadn’t offered it to me. I hated being dirty. The sensation was unfamiliar and I didn’t know how humans could live like this.

  I’d yet to carry my own handkerchief and if it were anyone else I’d simply ask to use his, but something gave me the sense he would find it far too intimate, like touching tails.

  So, while he stretched out his hand and the handkerchief vanished into whatever secret place he kept his things, I wiped my fingers on the grass when he wasn’t looking.

  The awkward silence stretched over us as we stared down at the little people below. For the third time, the urge to ask him to show me something human rose in me, but I tamped it down. That would be offensive, and as silly as if he asked that of me.

  Then, my mind prompted me to ask him to show me something Jinn instead. How would he take that? If he’d said more than two words strung together, I might’ve taken the chance. But I couldn’t get my mother’s voice out of my head. The Jinn are not to be trusted. The Jinn are evil. Never trust the words of a Jinni.

  Frustrated, I pulled my knees up to my chest and crossed my arms over them, as I searched for a safe question, staring with longing at the castle towers peeking out of the forest in the distance, wishing I was there with Bosh instead. Humans were so much easier to deal with.

  My eyes wandered, landing on Gideon’s cane. Impulsively, I reached out to pick it up. “This is beautiful,” I began, a question forming in my mind as I wrapped my fingers around the cool metal.

  In a heartbeat, he held me by the wrist in an almost painful grip. “Please don’t touch that,” he said softly.

  To my surprise, my protection spells released, throwing out a wave of energy that hit him square in the chest, knocking him flat on his back.

  I dropped the cane. Hurrying to his side, I knelt by him. It felt almost like when we’d first met, as I leaned over him. I half expected his eyes to be closed, and placed my hand on his chest without thought, licking my lips at the memory.

  Instead, his eyes were open, and his chest rose up and down as he struggled to catch his breath.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “You startled me. I didn’t mean to.” And I didn’t, but I could tell without a word from him that he was angry. “I’m sorry,” I apologized again. “Truly.”

  He only gave a curt nod. Pulling himself up, he moved more warily now, lifting the cane from between us to set it on the opposite side, out of my reach.

  “I was only curious,” my voice came out in a thin whisper. Something clogged my throat and a tinge of wetness came to my eyes. “I was going to ask what happened that you need a cane.” The question came out flat. At this point, I didn’t really expect him to answer.

  I’d ruined everything.

  Blinking rapidly, I tried to clear my eyes of the watery cloud. Tears were so much easier to hide in the ocean.

  But Gideon surprised me after a long moment by loosening his rigid posture, leaning back with a sigh. “It’s an old injury,” he said in that quiet voice of his. “From something that happened almost a year ago now.”

  Hope rose and I lifted my gaze. He focused on the village below. This time when I blinked the wetness away, it didn’t come back. I kept my body facing the village, like his, but watched his face closely, catching the way his lips tightened at the memory and the creases in the corner of his eyes deepened.

  “It must have been painful,” I said in a soft tone as well.

  “At the time,” he agreed with a small nod. “It’s nothing now, but I keep this,” he touched the cane, without looking at it, “to remind myself of that day. Of what can happen when you let your guard down.”

  A million questions rose to my mind at that tiny piece of information. What happened? Will he get offended all over again if I ask? I didn’t want to risk it. Instead, I basked in the happy feeling of being gifted a tiny secret. Maybe he just needed more time. After all, I’d had a year to think of him, while he may not remember that day at all.

  The thought reminded me of his words. “You say the injury happened a year ago?” I asked, before it occurred to me that even this might be an invasion of his privacy. Such a fine line to walk!

  He nodded though.

  This was my moment.

  I took a deep breath. Where to start?

  One simple question would work: was it when you fell from the sky?

  And then he would say, how did you know about that?

  Oh, I would tell him in a casual tone, as if it was nothing, I was the one who saved you from drowning. Did you truly think you’d landed on a rock in the middle of the ocean without help—or somehow survived a landing like that without a broken skull?

  I opened my mouth to speak.

  “I’d rather not talk about that day,” Gideon said. “If you don’t mind.”

  I deflated.

  With my plans to begin with our first meeting thwarted, I debated just telling him anyway, or asking about something else. Maybe I could circle back around to it.

  “Do you have family?” I asked, thinking of my five sisters. That was a safe topic, right?

  But Gideon grew even more grim, if that were possible, and still as death. “Not anymore.”

  Ah. Another taboo subject.

  Then again, he hadn’t said he didn’t want to talk about it—yet. I refused to give up hope that I could find a crack in his fierce façade. “What happened to them?”

  Gideon sighed, a long drawn out sigh that reminded me of my mother. “My parents passed a
way a few decades ago. And I didn’t have any siblings, but I have a bond-brother who went missing a year ago, and I fear he may be dead as well.”

  Another event that happened a year ago? This was too juicy to pass up. Like when a school of fish swam right into your hands.

  “Was that related to why you fell from the sky?” I asked.

  For the first time all morning, Gideon’s sharp gaze fixed on me, direct and focused. “How did you know about that?” he asked, as I’d known he would.

  I smiled. “Well, I know you didn’t want to talk about it...” I trailed off, enjoying the fact that I finally had his full attention.

  “Tell me.” His tone was flat. He didn’t fully trust me yet. Maybe he thought I was playing him. But he would see.

  “I know,” I said, still smiling as if this were a pleasant conversation, because I so hoped it would be, “because I saw you fall. I’m the one who dragged you from the bottom of the ocean onto that rock.”

  The sun glinted in his pale blue eyes, but he didn’t turn away. His thick brows lifted in surprise, but other than that he didn’t react to my big reveal at all.

  “We held a full conversation, actually,” I continued, feeling odd telling him about his own experience. “Well, a short one. You told me why you... fell.”

  “Did I?” his soft voice held an undercurrent of tension. “And why was that?”

  Was this a test? I questioned my memory. What if I’d heard him wrong? Or misunderstood?

  I swallowed, forcing myself to hold his gaze, though I felt more and more nervous. Especially after learning the other events of that fateful day, and realizing how much of the story I didn’t know.

  “Well,” I said, swallowing yet again and lifting my chin to appear confident. “According to you, it was because you were banished.”

  Gideon flinched.

  I opened my mouth to say something else, but nothing came to mind. The revelation was no longer about our history, but centered around that word.

  Banished.

  “I realize our kind don’t really get along,” I said. He probably hated that I knew this secret about him, that a weakness was exposed to a natural adversary. But I needed him to know I wasn’t the enemy. “I won’t tell anyone, I swear. I could’ve told Arie or the others, but I haven’t. You can ask them.” Well, that would defeat the purpose of the secret, but at least I could offer.

  All this time, Gideon hadn’t moved. His eyes were squeezed shut as if that might somehow block the truth, or maybe block me. I tried not to be hurt.

  “We can talk about something else,” I offered after another long moment. There were a lot of those in this conversation. I hated silence.

  “Did I tell you anything else?” he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes still shut.

  “Um, well,” I blushed at that question. “Besides your name, only one other thing...”

  Now those blue eyes blinked open, fixed on me. “Yes?”

  I know I’d told myself I’d be honest with him, and I wanted him to trust me, but after everything that had happened, I felt certain if I admitted the last bit to him he would only sneer and call me a liar. “I’d rather not say.”

  “Was it about the queen?” he asked. At some point his body had angled to face mine, and I’d done the same. He looked worried.

  “The queen?” I asked, curiosity piqued. “What about her?” This felt like back in my mother’s chatter room with the Mere-ladies gossiping. I gasped. “Is she the one who banished you?” It made sense, now that I thought about it. Who else would have that kind of power? Well, I supposed I didn’t know much about the Jinn, so I couldn’t be sure.

  “I shouldn’t have said that,” he muttered, confirming my suspicions.

  “What did you do that was horrible enough to be banished?” I asked thoughtlessly.

  “Nothing!” For the first time since I’d met him, Gideon raised his voice, which for him, was essentially yelling.

  “You’re very touchy, you know that?” I snapped. I was over tiptoeing around him. It was far too much work. “If you didn’t do anything, then you’ve no need to get so worked up. It’s not like I’m going to banish you again.” Well, at least not from the human world. Technically, he was already not allowed in Rusalka. But now was probably not the best time to mention that. “Obviously the queen thinks you did something. But if you didn’t, then we can prove your innocence!”

  “I cannot.” Gideon stood and began to pace. I’d never seen him so physically upset. After a moment, I stood too, feeling silly to be sitting on the ground so far beneath him.

  He shook his head, stopping in front of me. “I haven’t discussed this with anyone before, do you understand?”

  I smiled up at him. He was trusting me with his secrets? “I won’t tell a soul.”

  Instead of reassuring him, that seemed to make him pause. “I wish I could be sure of that.”

  I held up a finger for him to wait. Pulling another cord from around my neck, I drew up one of my necklaces. Unlike the Key, which I’d kept hidden, this jewelry lay on the outside, with a beautiful strand of seashells from the depths of the ocean. In the sunlight, their colors faded from dark purples, blues, and pinks, into softer pastel hues.

  Carefully, I untied a shell and handed it to Gideon, serious now. “This is spelled for promises,” I said as I placed it in his hand.

  At the word, he tried to hand it back to me, “I don’t want anything spelled,” he said, “I know how the Mere work. How do I know it won’t do something else?”

  I frowned. “You don’t even know what it does do yet. Could you not have even an ounce of trust for the one who saved your life?”

  He stopped protesting, properly chastised.

  “This,” I continued, pointing to the shell, “means I must keep your secret, for as long as you have it, until or if you decide to give it back to me.” I shrugged, crossing my arms. “But if you think it’s nothing, then you might as well give it back.”

  His fingers curled around it at that. I nodded, satisfied. Dropping to the ground with a sigh, I gave in to the warmth of the sun, leaning back to lay in the soft grass and close my eyes. “Anyway, tell me or don’t tell me. I don’t care.”

  The best reaction to gossip, my mother always said, was pretending it meant nothing. This almost always prompted a desire to prove the information was valuable.

  Gideon settled back down next to me. Peeking at him, I was disappointed to find he’d kept his distance. Still. It was something. I closed my eyes and waited.

  “The queen banished me,” Gideon began after one of his agonizing pauses that I was growing used to, “because I was searching for my bond-brother. And I’d discovered something she didn’t want anyone to know.”

  The mystery was too exciting for me to feign indifference now. I rolled onto my stomach, propping my head in my hands to stare at him. “What did you find?” I whispered reverently.

  Gideon didn’t play with the grass or his cane or do anything so obvious to expose his anxiety, but I was beginning to recognize it was his utter stillness that gave him away as he spoke. “You know how I mentioned my bond-brother disappeared?”

  I nodded.

  Gideon didn’t move a muscle, didn’t even blink. “I believe the queen was behind it.”

  Oh, the intrigue! “Why would she do such a thing?” I asked, almost breathless with curiosity. “Did he do something wrong?”

  Gideon was a statue now. Staring at my shell in the palm of his hand. I waited with hinged breath, but I never would’ve guessed what he said next.

  “In a way. We have a tradition that every 50 years, the ruling monarch will defer the throne of Jinn to their offspring. The Crowning Ceremony is meant to be this year. His crime was being her son.”

  Chapter 27

  Rena

  GIDEON AND I HAD only spent half a morning together and had already run out of things to say. The revelation about the Jinni prince was probably to blame for that. I wanted to ask wha
t happened when the only heir to the throne was missing, but even I could sense that information was for Jinni ears only. The currents in my mind were strong, dragging me from one possibility to the next. Clearly the queen had somehow removed her son so she could keep her throne. The lifetime of a Jinni rivaled that of the Mere, and we had our suspicions they might live quite a bit longer than even we knew.

  All of this I could only assume, because for the millionth time that morning, we sat in utter silence.

  “What would you like to do for the rest of our day together?” Gideon asked at the hour mark, as he had the last three times.

  This time, boredom won.

  “You can travel anywhere you want?” I asked.

  That got me a sidelong glance and one of those thick brows raised in silent question.

  “Could you take me to see an elephant? I’ve always wanted to see one.”

  Gideon’s lip twitched at first. Then he surprised me by throwing his head back and laughing. An actual belly laugh. “You’re quite unpredictable, you know that?” he said when he caught his breath.

  I smirked.

  “Alright, as you wish,” Gideon stood, dusting off his pants, though of course they were impeccable. He held out a hand to help me up, and my heart fluttered as I took it. One moment I was staring up into his pale blue eyes, then the next moment he flashed away and was gone.

  “Wait! Come back!” I shouted, but he already had. He grasped my arms more firmly, disappearing a second time and leaving me alone once more. Reappearing once again, he frowned at me, as if his leaving me behind was somehow my fault.

  “What’s going on?” he demanded, gesturing toward me in frustration. “It’s as if you’re rooted into the ground. You’re anchored so deep I can’t move you from this spot.”

  “Oh!” I’d completely forgotten. I reached up to my neck to grasp the limpet shell, murmuring to remove the protection spell that prevented Jinni Gifts from working on the Mere. “Sorry. Try it now.”