Tales of the Djinn_The City of Endless Night

by Emma Holly

  THE SOUND OF CONNOR and Iksander speaking in low tones woke Georgie. She crawled out of bed to join them in the sitting area.

  “You’re back,” she said, her voice ringing happily.

  That might have been embarrassing if Iksander hadn’t smiled at her.

  “I am,” he said. “And I brought sustenance.”

  He handed her a fresh crusty roll spread with what looked like Brie.

  “Mm,” she said, sniffing it and taking a big bite. Food control notwithstanding, djinn sure knew how to cook.

  “Iksander might have found the palace portal,” Connor said.

  “Possibly,” the djinni cautioned. “I slipped past the guard who was defending it, but the ward was too complicated for me to crack. All I can say for certain is the seal shields something important.”

  “Could I override the charm, do you think?”

  “Possibly. I’d have to lead you there unseen. And distract the guard. If the corridor doesn’t lead to a portal, we don’t want to raise alarms. Our relative freedom could be snatched away again.”

  Georgie sat and chewed thoughtfully.

  “Don’t djinn have trouble blocking human magic?” Connor asked. “Maybe you could teach Georgie a sleep spell. If she cast it from a distance out of sight, the guard will think he dozed off at his post. He might even be too embarrassed to report it.”

  “She’d need time to practice. We could try late tomorrow night, I guess. When the servant corridors aren’t busy.”

  Iksander looked at her with raised eyebrows.

  “I’d be up for that,” Georgie said.

  “Good. You can test out the spell on me. Either we’ll waste the remainder of the night, or I’ll be well rested tomorrow.”

  The joke showed he was comfortable, but it wasn’t the only change in him. He held himself differently in the chair: less regal and more relaxed. Georgie liked knowing she and Connor played a part in easing his anxiety. She liked him, actually.

  That bothered her a little. She had a feeling only Connor didn’t worry about their shared future.

  For the moment, Iksander’s mind was on other things. He slapped his thighs, stood up, and turned his head as if searching. “I need something to write on.”

  “Perhaps in the desk?” Connor suggested, pointing to a small secretaire.

  Iksander rummaged through it like a man unaccustomed to hunting up conveniences for himself. “Here we go,” he finally exulted. “Paper and pencil.”

  He might have discovered the Holy Grail. Georgie hid her amusement with an effort.

  “I know number of sleep spells,” he explained. “Half-know them anyway. I used to knock out my nurse when I was a child. I’ll write down a few for you. We’ll see what suits your magic best.”

  “You used to knock out your nurse?” Connor repeated, stuck on that.

  “She was strict. I liked to wander sometimes at night. As a child, I had extra energy.”

  Georgie gave in and laughed. “I bet you were a handful.”

  “Willful and spoiled was her term for it.” He looked sheepish, which she guessed was a sign he’d grown up.

  “This will be karma then. Though I’ll try not to put you in a coma.”

  “Please,” he said, mild alarm pulling at his mouth. “I’ll have you know my nurse forgave me. Sends me birthday greetings every year.”

  Georgie hopped up and kissed his cheek. Her affection seemed to take him by surprise. He returned the hug cautiously.

  “I’ll be gentle,” she promised as she pushed back from him.

  When he smiled, something more than playfulness shimmered between them.

  Chapter Twelve

  TO GEORGIE’S RELIEF, morning felt like morning the following day. Their breakfast basket came with a note. Practice space had been set aside for Connor and Iksander. They were instructed to proceed there at the second gong and work out.

  “What about me?” Georgie wondered, since the note didn’t mention her.

  “You should probably stick with us,” Iksander said. “We can’t assume you’re free to explore at will.”

  She supposed this interpretation was sensible.

  Exercise outfits were supplied for the men. The light gray wrap jackets and loose pants reminded her of karate gi. Georgie thought the men looked sharp but didn’t mind wearing her own things. Her old buckled leather trousers were comfort clothes to her.

  The practice room the men had been allocated was an indoor tennis court with the net removed. Apparently, they were intended to provide entertainment immediately. A gallery along one side allowed courtiers to sidle in and watch.

  That lots of females decided to stop by was no surprise to Georgie.

  With no particular job to occupy her, she sat on the floor in a corner of the court and sketched the men running through their wrestling tricks. Though she was no da Vinci, drawing relaxed her. Thankfully, Iksander hadn’t used up the supplies he found in the little desk. She needed help ignoring the admiring murmurs up in the gallery.

  More than simple hangers-on visited. Eleanor slipped up beside Georgie so quietly she didn’t notice the regent until she spoke.

  “I see all your talents are slight,” was her not-so-polite comment.

  “No, don’t rise,” she demurred when Georgie belatedly remembered she ought to. “You seem to have put yourself where you belong.”

  Though she found the burn sort of funny—nobody but Georgie put Georgie in a corner—she decided she shouldn’t laugh. “I’m grateful I haven’t offended Your Highness.”

  The yellow-haired royal made a vague humming noise. Interestingly, she wore male garb today. Her knee breeches and jacket were glittery silver with snowy lace foaming out at the neck and cuffs. Her heeled shoes had diamond buckles, and her silk hose showed off her calves.

  Georgie suspected she knew how slick she looked.

  At the moment, Eleanor was too busy drinking in the men’s appearance to require compliments. “Aren’t they agile?” she mused. “Especially the larger one. Those blue eyes of his make one shiver.”

  “I suppose they do,” Georgie said.

  She guessed it was okay to answer, because Eleanor tapped her lips. “Were it not for the bold manner in which he pins your leader, one would assume he’s completely sweet.”

  “They trade pinning each other. To, uh, make it more interesting for the audience.”

  Eleanor turned to her with a catlike smile. “Is an audience all you are to them?”

  Probably it suited the regent that she blushed. “I’m not sure what Your Highness is getting at.”

  “I’m asking if that very fine, very agile, very large specimen of maleness enjoys women.”

  “He . . . does.” Georgie hesitated, aware she tiptoed between landmines. “I generally prefer to let him speak for himself.”

  “Your discretion is laudable. Unnecessary, however, when I’m doing you the honor of asking.” The regent’s expression had turned stern. Georgie’s skin prickled. She had a feeling the djinniya was using—or trying to use—magic against her. Not reacting could betray her origins. Was she meant to be intimidated? Compelled?

  “Forgive me?” Georgie said helplessly.

  This wasn’t the correct response. Eleanor narrowed her dark blue eyes. “He makes love to you, doesn’t he? Actual penetration in your actual pussy?”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “Vigorously?”

  “Sometimes. He isn’t rough, if that’s what you mean.”

  Eleanor scoffed and pinkie fluffed her hair. “You are a country girl, aren’t you? Never mind. I’m sure he can be stirred to vigor, given an appropriate spur.”

  In case Georgie doubted Eleanor meant herself, she slid her slender, ring-laden hands down to her trim waist. Her attention was all for Connor, her wet tongue curling over her upper lip as she watched him confer with Iksander on the finer points of a shoulder flip. Her preening made Georgie want to sock her. The regent acted as if Georgie hadn’t the sl
ightest claim to her own lover—or none Eleanor couldn’t overrule. Then again, Eleanor might not think Connor himself had the right to refuse her.

  Her annoyance must have leaked past her control. Eleanor turned to her. “Your chambers are acceptable?” she inquired. “You have sufficient food and other necessities?”

  This seemed a reminder that their comfort depended on their hosts. Georgie bowed her head to answer. “Your palace is a marvel. Your Highnesses are generous.”

  “Of course we are,” said another voice. “Our natures are wise and bountiful.”

  Georgie jerked. Henri had glided onto the court as silently as his sister. More on the ball this time, Georgie pushed up hastily and curtsied. This didn’t please Eleanor, though she’d been the one who told her to stay seated.

  She frowned disapprovingly at her twin. “I thought you were tied up with our security chief.”

  “We finished early,” Henri replied smugly.

  A thump from across the room caused his head to swivel toward Connor and Iksander. Connor had flipped the sultan onto his back and was standing over him. Georgie guessed the men had warmed up. They’d removed the belted jackets they’d come in with. Sweat gleamed on their bare torsos.

  “My,” Henri murmured, two fingers and a thumb steepled at his mouth. “The pretty one is large, isn’t he?”

  “We agreed on this,” his sister hissed.

  “You agreed. I said I’d consider waiting till you were done. Given the pretty one’s formidable attractions, you being finished could take a while.”

  “There are other toys in this box.”

  Henri turned back to wink alarmingly at Georgie. Even in the marble paleness of his face, his wolfish grin was brilliant. “Some people don’t mind sharing.”

  Eleanor crossed her arms. “I absolutely didn’t agree to that.”

  Henri chucked his sister’s chin. “You shouldn’t be so attractive when you’re angry. It makes provoking you rewarding.”

  “Henri—”

  “Not here,” he scolded. “The toys will get nervous.”

  Georgie didn’t know if they thought she was deaf or too stupid to understand. Maybe it didn’t matter. No longer concerned with her, Henri signaled Connor and Iksander to approach. Connor didn’t make himself any less appealing by toweling his face and chest.

  He and Iksander bowed simultaneously.

  “Goodness,” Henri said. “You can shake hands with me like men.”

  He pumped Iksander’s perfunctorily, then held Connor’s a bit longer . . . clasping it in two hands instead one. His slow withdrawal a moment later was unmistakably caressing.

  “Your Highnesses,” Iksander said. “Thank you for honoring us.”

  He might as well not have spoken. Henri’s gaze was glued to Connor’s.

  “Do you have notes for us?” Connor asked.

  Henri laughed softly. His fingertips traced a path up and down his own tunic front. He’d dressed in watered blue silk today, the color reminiscent of Connor’s eyes. “I confess I was too distracted to do more than admire your athleticism. I’d relish grappling with you myself.”

  “The wrestling Andrei and I do takes training. I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

  “You might be surprised how little that concerns me.”

  Connor had sexual buttons, some of which involved pretend force. Henri’s answer pushed them. Color washed into his cheeks.

  “You are too delicious,” Henri purred. “I’m so grateful the three of you broke the law.”

  This startled Connor into blinking. “I thought you’d pardoned us.”

  “I have,” Henri said with the same wolfish grin as before.

  “We have,” Eleanor interrupted, sliding her hand sideways to wind around Henri’s. “Our middle name is Mercy.”

  “Practically,” Henri corrected waggishly. “Now and then we let other traits come forward.”

  THOUGH THEY’D RETURNED safely to their rooms, Connor continued to rub the hand Henri had caressed against his loose trousers. The last person who’d caused him this much unease at a proposition was Georgie’s former guardian. Henri was as beautiful as the empress and just as predatory.

  Attractiveness aside, Connor preferred his free will be respected.

  “I don’t get them,” Georgie said. “Why concoct the crazy-ass story that they’re second cousins if they’re actually interested in other partners? I thought they were so obsessed with each other no one else measured up. If that’s not true, why didn’t they marry people they aren’t related to?”

  She flopped down into a loveseat, her leg slung across one arm while the sultan perched on the other. Seemingly without self-consciousness, she laid her head on his thigh. Iksander wasn’t as natural. He fondled a tuft of her spiky hair as if he were still testing his right to caress her.

  “Perhaps,” he said, “when the regents devised the tale, they thought they’d be obsessed forever. Forbidden desires can be powerful.”

  “I guess they got over that.” Georgie wagged her booted foot thoughtfully. “Or maybe these games keep the spice going. They certainly weren’t shy about competing to seduce Connor. Given how Eleanor was dressed, she seemed to be suggesting she wears the pants in the family too.”

  Iksander laughed and glanced at him. “What did you make of them?”

  Connor considered his answer. “I think they’ve probably fought—and competed—since they were young. I think it’s their dynamic. Their mutual connection may be stronger than any other, but it’s also too close to be peaceful.”

  “Peacefulness definitely isn’t their main vibe.” Georgie shook her head and wriggled sideways to face him. “I know Henri attracted you, but getting caught between those two could get uncomfortable.”

  “You don’t want me to sleep with them.”

  “Given my druthers, no. On the other hand, you belong to you.”

  “We are committed, you and I.”

  “We are,” she agreed. “And I admit I pretty much hate the idea of either of them putting their hands on you.”

  “I don’t like the idea of them touching you.”

  Georgie pursed her mouth humorously. “Someone might have to take one for the team.”

  “I’d rather that was me,” he said firmly.

  His palm was itching again. He’d started rubbing it on his jacket when Iksander let out an exclamation and grabbed his wrist. “I thought him shaking hands was out of character. Look. Henri left a secret message on Connor’s palm. The letters are starting to appear.”

  Georgie sat up and leaned to see.

  “‘Delicious Creature,’” Iksander read. “‘If your appetites are as sharp as mine, meet me in the chamber behind the dining hall tomorrow. You’ll know I’m whetted and waiting when this message begins to pulse.’ He signed it with a fancy H—presumably so you’d have no doubt which regent invited you.”

  Connor stared at the note. His heart had accelerated. Despite his apprehension, he thought he might be flattered. Of the three of them, only he’d been chosen.

  He looked at Georgie, unable to explain his mixed feelings.

  “It’s okay if you kind of want to go,” she said. “Seriously, neither of us can judge.”

  “He’s a bad person.”

  “He’s a sexy bad person. And you’re the only angel here.”

  “We wouldn’t rather you hated the idea,” Iksander said, glancing toward Georgie to get her nod. “And who knows what Henri wants? You might be able to eke out the feast, course by course.”

  “You mean stall for time.”

  “Exactly,” Iksander said. “Historically, royals aren’t immune to seducers who play hard to get.”

  WAITING UNTIL THEY could tiptoe out strained Georgie’s patience to its limit. The palace gongs stopped at midnight, after which gauging the hour was guesswork. Only Iksander seemed able to do that. Djinn instinct was how he explained it. He had an instinct for when she’d ask for an update too. After the first few times, he clucked hi
s tongue and answered before her mouth opened.

  “All right,” he finally said. “Pull on a pair of slippers. It’s late enough.”

  The slippers were part of the bath supplies, stretchy and soft-soled like ballet shoes. Connor had the bright idea of charming them to confound watch spells. Georgie donned hers and grabbed the paper with her chosen sleep incantation. She’d barely started looking for a pencil when Connor tossed her one.

  Evidently, both men read her with no trouble.

  Their journey through the back halls passed easily enough. They shrank back once to avoid a servant carrying a covered dish. After that, they met no one.

  Iksander stopped to give her instructions at the bottom landing of a stairwell.

  “This is the tunnel level,” he informed her quietly. “The guard is posted to our right. I’ll open the door a crack so you can see him. Draw him standing up and sleeping. Then read the spell silently. If you need more power to put him under, add one of the symbols I showed you. Don’t overdo it. We don’t want him collapsing. If he wakes in a heap on the floor, he’ll know he was enchanted.”

  Georgie nodded. He’d explained this before, but hearing it again calmed her.

  He looked from her to Connor then opened the door a few inches.

  Georgie had to lean against him to peer out. She got a bead on the guard’s profile, which she was going to copy to aim the spell. Iksander’s arm braced the paper as she sketched, his steadiness reassuring her. She copied the guard’s stiff black uniform, his tall boots, the jut of his chin and nose. She made his imaginary version lean on the wall and drew his lashes closed. Satisfied she’d caught his likeness, she recited Iksander’s chant silently but with her lips moving.

  After a couple repetitions, Iksander nudged her and nodded.

  She glanced up and found the guard asleep exactly as she’d portrayed him. That pleased her so much she grinned.

  Iksander opened the door slowly. In single file, they crept down the stark black hall. Reaching the guard made her heart race, but they got past him too. Because only Iksander could see in the next dark passage, they held hands to continue. Their slippers made shuffling noises until he murmured a muffling spell.