by Lexi Blake
The First Night
By Lexi Blake and M. J. Rose
1001 Dark Nights
The First Night
By Lexi Blake and M. J. Rose
1001 Dark Nights
Copyright 2015 M. J. Rose and DLZ Entertainment, LLC
Published by Evil Eye Concepts, Incorporated
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.
Join NYT Bestselling Authors Lexi Blake and MJ Rose as they take you to ancient Persia—a land of magic, erotic delights and exotic danger.
Discover the beginnings of 1001 Dark Nights….
Trapped in the body of the legendary Scheherazade, a young woman named Camille, finds herself in a land of harems, wizards, and ruthless rulers. A student of time travel, a descendant of a witch, and a curious and sensitive soul, Camille is trapped by the king’s order. Night after night she’s forced to tell stories of her travels across the planes in order to keep herself alive. Tales of the erotic, the romantic, the magical, and the sensual, she entertains the king in the hopes that he will spare her life. Desperate to get back to her own time, she turns to the one man who might be able to save her.
Khalid is a member of an ancient order of mages, his power granted to him by a Djinn. The most feared man in the kingdom, he is still forced to do the king’s bidding and the king wants to know if Scheherazade is a witch. Khalid sees through the mask Camille wears and knows she’s the one woman promised to him by fate. He’ll do anything to have her, anything to love her. But to save her means losing her forever…
The First Night
Sometimes I wake and for just a moment, I can feel the cool wash of soft sheets over my flesh. I can hear the ocean rolling and my mind flashes on the day ahead of me, of studying the great secret books with my father, and a restless satisfaction settles over me. No matter how difficult my studies, I am becoming something more than I was, more complex and more infinite. In these brief moments before dawn, I am free and happy again.
“Awaken, miss. Awaken. We must prepare.”
And then I open my eyes and admit the truth.
I am trapped. Unable to find a way out. The same panic that threatens to overtake me every single morning rises in me again. I force bile down my throat as I realize there is no ocean here, no comfortable home. Time itself has become inflexible, and I am a prisoner to its inevitable march.
I force myself to sit up and acknowledge that voice that calls to me. Goli is a slave girl. Young and lovely but with amblyopia. In my time they would call it a lazy eye, but in hers, in this time, it’s a sign of being cursed. She’s allowed only the lowliest of tasks; cleaning chamber pots and making beds in the harem. That is how I came to know her.
I live in the harem but as one of the virgins, not one of the wives. All here know me as Scheherazade, but that is not who I am. Sometimes, I whisper my real name out loud. Just to hear it. Camille. When my mother says it, there’s wind in the trees. Camille. My father always speaks it with the beginning of a laugh in his voice.
I have taught it to Goli. Moved my mouth slowly, instructing her how to pronounce it.
The wives call me Scheherazade. But lately they have begun calling me by another name.
Witch. They use other words, but it is all the same. Some have come to believe there is dark magic all around me.
I yawn and turn away from the morning light coming through the windows. It’s early. Far too early. My job keeps me up late. When I’m finished I’m often too exhausted to go right to sleep. My burden weighs on me. If I can’t keep the court entertained, I’ll share in the fate of those who have not been able to amuse the king. I’ve seen the pits where they throw the bodies and am determined that I will not join them. Even if it means I need to tell better and better stories. Even if I must share with them my more amusing and risqué scenarios. I must leave the king always wondering what will happen next, how the tale is going to unfold, how the conflict will be resolved. I must keep the king never satiated, always wanting more.
“It’s not yet noon, Goli. Go away. Let me sleep. Come back later.”
She’s a quick girl and I’m the only one in the harem to see past her small disability. I made a patch for her to wear during the afternoons and give her exercises at this time every day, designed to help strengthen her eye. But we can work on her improvement later. Today I need my sleep. I need to dream of my world.
I lay back and hope I can find my way there again. I need to relive my adventures. Today I’ll replay my time with Azagoth, the Grim Reaper. I found myself on his unearthly plane once, and after an unfortunate misunderstanding was corrected, discovered him to be an interesting host. Yes, I will close my eyes and remember that moment so I can tell the story of Azagoth to the king tonight.
But Goli will not be dismissed. “No, no, mistress. You must come. The magician is here.”
I sigh. She can be quite stubborn when she chooses to be. “All right, I’ll bite. Who is this magician?”
Goli backs away. “Please don’t bite, mistress.”
I need to watch my language. I’m usually better at blending in, but then I don’t often stay on one plane and in one time for as long as I’ve been here. “Apologies, Goli. I was teasing you. Who is the magician?”
She smiles and I can’t help but forgive her. When she reaches for my hand, I squeeze hers back. “He works miracles. I thought perhaps he could help with your problem.”
Only Goli knows my tale. She has been my invaluable aide. She tells me what I should do and how to behave. She knew the real Scheherazade, and even though she can’t understand what has happened, she does believe I’ve somehow taken her place.
“I thank you, Goli, but I doubt this magician would even understand my problem.”
She frowns and her naïveté shows in her eyes. “Why? He is known as the greatest of our mages. It is said he can make potions that heal the body and the mind. It is whispered he can even speak with the dead.”
Speak with the dead? Those four words make me sit up. It is common knowledge in my time that some people are aware that the universe is not as linear and orderly as it might seem. They see through the veils that separate time and space. In my world, we have entire schools dedicated to the study of time walking. Here, they are suspect of it. How has this magician survived?
“Can I meet him? Will the king allow it?”
“That I do not know, but I found out where they will be and when.” Goli has an impish look on her face that tells me what I need.
“And you know where we can go so that we can overhear their conversation, don’t you?”
Goli nods. “I know how to listen to everyone. No one notices me. It’s how I get all the best gossip. So you will come with me, yes? They say the magician takes an elixir to make himself beautiful to all eyes and is the most attractive man in all the lands. I want to see that for myself.”
I laugh and smooth down her hair.
“Will you come with me? Should I draw your bath?”
As Goli fills the tub with oils and rose petals, I think about the magician. Maybe this man is learned in the dark arts. Maybe he can help me. Anxious now, I get out of bed and as I stand, catch a glimpse of my feet. Scheherazade’s feet. I long to see myself again, to look at my own hands and arms and breasts and legs and my own feet. Too see myself as I remember.
&
nbsp; “Yes, hurry with my bath. Then help me get dressed. I’ll go with you.”
* * * *
We walk on quiet feet as we sneak along the stone floors of the palace. It is silent here in the king’s wing, and if we are caught, there will be punishment. The sentences in this world are harsh, violent. I do not wish to be caught, but at the same time it’s hard to go any more slowly. Something invisible pushes me on.
When I timewalk, I can feel the spots where tears exist in the fabric that divides the planes. There is a certain energy about such spaces that lets me know I can traverse them. It’s the same with some people. Those with the most energy glow with knowledge. They’re more than simply human. They are Adepts, people with a deep knowledge of how our world worked in the past and how it will work in the future.
I’m sure I am walking ever closer to an Adept, and my heart thrills at the prospect.
Goli guides me through the palace with the expert of a little mouse who has often had to find her way. She seems to know when to hide and when to be in motion, giggling as she evades the guards making their rounds and the advisors and courtiers strutting through the king’s private wing like bejeweled and stuffed birds puffing themselves up.
We conceal ourselves in the shadows as one of the wives is escorted across the main hallway, being led from the king’s bedroom back to the harem. She’s a beautiful woman with skin the color of warm caramel and striking sky-blue eyes. Unfortunately, her hands strike the servants, too, and often she swipes at Goli, who now stands frozen and utterly silent as we wait until the wife has passed.
Apparently, she isn’t welcome at the meeting with the magician, but then I’m sure I’m not as well. Still, I feel as if I have no choice. I must see him.
Resuming our journey, Goli brings me into a private garden where I’m surrounded by vibrant colors and exotic smells. Despite the fact that desert surrounds this city, I am awed by the rainbow of flowers and plants that create this oasis of beauty in the midst of desolation. The smell of jasmine tickles my nose. We are standing behind a wall of vines that curve around a fountain, a backdrop to the lovely dripping pool.
“This suite is where the king puts the most important of visitors,” Goli explains, her voice low.
“So the king is interested in impressing this magician?”
Goli puts a finger to her mouth, but she doesn’t need to. I go silent because I feel his presence. It floats over me like a warm caress. Motioning me forward, she shows me where to stand so that I might watch what is going on inside the palace through a tiny crack in the tall, stone wall.
My heart thuds in my chest as the king enters the suite. He’s a large man who has enjoyed the raw fruits of his birth for far too long. There is a certain cruelty to his glance. He examines his surroundings as if he expects to find something wrong.
It doesn’t take him long. “I told them no incense. I’ll have someone’s head.”
He means that. I’ve come to believe he has a collection.
“No, please, my king. Not on my account,” the voice drips of honey, slow and rich. “I merely said I preferred no scents, not that death must occur if I happen to smell one.”
I catch my breath as the man who is speaking comes into view. If his beauty is due to a glamour, then he is the most powerful mage in the world, for he is truly magnificent.
“I do not wish to begin my sojourn here with a beheading. It is not good luck, you know. A feast is better luck.” His teeth show, even and white. His lips are the most sensual I’ve ever seen on a man. He glows with health. Tall and lean with broad shoulders, he could easily have come from my time. He’s dressed in sumptuous greens and golds that contrast beautifully with his skin. A strong jaw sits below the most sensual lips I’ve ever seen on a man.
“Then a feast you shall have, Khalid. I cannot express how much I appreciate you helping me in this matter. I thank you for agreeing to come here. I know you prefer the desert.”
“I had a choice?” Khalid smiles as he makes his way around the room, his fingers brushing the furniture as he inspects his new quarters.
The king chuckles. It is one of the only times I’ve seen him laugh outside of listening to my stories, and I know that he likes Khalid. “I suppose not, but you answered my call with grace, my friend. I didn’t merely request your visit in order to discuss my problems, though. I enjoy your company.”
“As I do yours, my king.” Suddenly, Khalid turns toward the garden, a curious look in his eyes.
Fearing discovery, I shrink back and then remind myself I need not worry. Without coming right up to the wall himself and putting his eye up to the same crack, he cannot see me. And yet, staring out into the courtyard, those beautiful lips curl slightly and when he speaks he does not turn back to look at the king but keeps his eyes right on the spot in the wall where he, if he could see through stone and mortar, would be able to see me.
“Let us talk about this business that is troubling you,” Khalid says. “Tell me about the witch.”
Goli begins to shake. “He has seen us.”
“He can’t,” I hiss.
“Yes, he can. Look at his eyes. They see more than ordinary mortals do.” Her words are little desperate puffs of air. “We have to go.”
I can't take my eyes off him. “You go. I have to stay.”
Leaving me behind, she scurries away to safety.
“Yes, the witch,” the king says and begins to speak of me and explain about my nightly tales while Khalid sits and listens, his gaze never returning to the spot where I’m hiding.
Tea is brought in and Khalid’s focus remains on his king as he recounts how he first came to bring Scheherazade to the palace.
“I’d meant to marry the vizier’s daughter and then cast her aside like so many others, but that first night, she told me a marvelous tale. I was transfixed right up to the very end. I couldn’t wait for the denouement. I had to know what was going to happen to the characters. And then she just stopped. She withheld the ending. The little vixen said that she was tired and if I wanted to know what was happening, she would tell me the next night. And true to her word, the following night she began with the resolution of the first story and then began another. Again withholding the climax. Khalid, night after night she ensnares me with her spellbinding tales and keeps me on tenterhooks until the following eve. But lately,” he said, “the stories have become so strange. I fear my Scheherazade might indeed be the witch my wives claim her to be.”
“And you wish me to discover if she is possessed of dark magic and help you decide if she should live or die?”
I begin to shake. My very fate is to be decided by this mage? In this manner? Based on rumors and the extent of my imagination?
The very stories that have kept me alive are going to doom me?
I know I should flee, but I continue to wait, to watch, and to listen.
Done with the tea, the king leaves Khalid to rest and refresh himself. The magician escorts his ruler to the door and then shuts it behind him. He stretches his magnificent body.
Then, pulling his white linen shirt over his head, he tosses it onto a cushion and bends over the basin of rosewater that awaits him. With a yawn, he rinses his face. My eyes follow the curve of his spine, take in the way his white pants contrast with his gorgeously tanned skin. When he stands again, he runs a towel over his face. Once he has dried his skin, he lets the towel drop and turns.
“Are you going to hide in the garden all day, little one? Or shall we have a chat? I should warn you though, I am very vain. I will allow you to watch me all day if that is your wish. Just please remember to gasp a little when I undress more fully later. It does much for a man’s pride.”
I step back, deeper into the shadows of a fig tree. He speaks directly to me, but there is no possibility he can see me. There is a wall between us. I’m only able to gaze at him through the one small crack.
“Yes, you,” he says with a satisfied smirk on his face. “Come along. Show yourself. I take
it you’re this Scheherazade the king is so concerned about. A pretty name. Let’s get a good look at you.”
I think about fleeing, but my feet hold firm. I’m no coward and I have never run from a man. Well, not one who wasn’t actively attempting to kill me. A girl does what she has to, after all. Gathering my courage, I walk around the decorative wall, making myself visible for the first time.
A smile of pure pleasure lights his face. “Ah, I knew there was a reason I was drawn here. You are stunning, little one.”
I’m not about to let him know how his words warm me. I tell myself he’s not really looking at me. He sees Scheherazade with her exotic looks. Sees her dark hair and eyes. I lift my chin.
“I thought you were ordered to come to the palace,” I say.
He winks and my heart flutters. Perhaps I should have fled after all. “Ah, but I am quite good at evading orders. You see, if the king can’t find me, he can’t command me. I learned that long ago. I allowed it this time because I dreamed of you for three nights in a row. And so when the king’s man rode through the desert, I knew it was fated that I oblige him.”
“You dreamed of Scheherazade?”
He steps too close, taking up all the space, making my breath hitch in my chest. I want to step back, but pride forces me to hold my ground. His hand reaches out and lifts up my chin so I face him. His eyes are dark, so dark that for a moment, I think they’re black. Then they flash and I see the deep blue of a star-filled night.
“No. I dreamed of you, Camille.”
For the longest moment I am trapped, looking up at him. I expect him to lower his head and brush my lips with his, but after a second, he steps back with a low chuckle.
“How did you know my name?” It has taken everything I have not to reach my fingers to my lips and make sure they are not on fire. I can feel his touch though he never kissed me.
