The_First_Night

by Lexi Blake

  Khalid opens a woven reed suitcase and pulls out a fresh shirt. “I know many things, little one, but not every thing. Where do you come from? It’s obvious you’re not from here.”

  “How can it be obvious?” I look exactly like a woman of the region. My own true self is hidden inside of Scheherazade’s body.

  “Your pale skin and red hair are dead giveaways.” He stares at me like I’m the lunatic.

  “You see me?”

  “Of course.” He comes close again, his fingers brushing across the bridge of my nose. “I like these. They’re enchanting.”

  I loathe the dusting of light freckles. In my own time I cover them with makeup, but here they’re invisible. I don’t look like myself to anyone but this wizard.

  “You’re trapped, aren’t you?” His eyes soften. “A traveler. Are you one of La Lune’s daughters?”

  “La Lune?” He has confused me, confounded me. And definitely aroused me. I pray he hasn’t noticed how my nipples hardened when he moved close. Or rather Scheherazade’s, I think, trying to convince myself that my reaction to him is really hers. It is a lie, of course, but a comforting one.

  “There is a way to tell if you belong to La Lune.” His eyes heat as he stares. “Take off your clothes, Camille. Show me your lovely body and I’ll show you the proof, if indeed it’s there.”

  The impulse to strip for this man nearly overwhelms me, and I know that the time has come to leave. I need to think. He’s a variable in the pattern I never considered. I step back into the garden, watching him like an antelope watches a hungry tiger.

  “Camille, I’m no threat to you.” He holds out his hand as if to coax me back in.

  The way he says my name brings the blood to my cheeks. I’ve longed to hear someone speak it, but now it frightens me. This man has enough power over me already. I shouldn’t give him more.

  Turning, I practically run back to the comfort of the harem. No matter what he says, I know a threat when I see one. This mage could be my undoing. For the rest of the afternoon I sit in my room, watching the shadows grow long on the wall.

  * * * *

  Three days have passed. Each night Khalid sits beside the king in the throne room and listens to me spin my tales. The first night I finished one about a cowboy and began another about the astral plane where the Midnight Breed live. The second night I finished that one and began another about a bounty hunter named Naya Blade. When I ended that one, I began a tale about a magic candle whose flame makes fantasies come true.

  Through every twist and turn of each story, Khalid never took his eyes off me. Even when I didn’t glance his way, I felt him. I felt his very mind holding me.

  Waking up this morning, all I can think about is how hard it is becoming to stop myself from going to him. I wonder if I should just give in. The questions he’s raised repeat over and over in my mind. Could he really know how to help me travel back to my own time? How did he know my name? And who is La Lune? Who are her daughters?

  Sitting in my own little garden on the afternoon of this fourth day since he arrived, I watch as the sun begins to set. What should I do? I ache to find out what he knows. How can I trust myself around him?

  “Camille?” The decision has been taken from me. I hear the magician’s voice.

  I close my eyes.

  “Camille, let me help. I can feel how troubled you are. It keeps me from sleeping and then when I finally drift off to sleep, your anxiety and confusion invade my dreams. Khalid’s voice soothes me just as it inflames me.

  “Go away.”

  “I cannot.”

  I don’t turn around. “If you’re caught in the harem, the king will have your head.”

  “I think you’ll find the king has different rules for someone like me. Don’t you know what they say about Khalid the Wizard?”

  I shake my head.

  “Look at me. Talk to me. I can help you.”

  I don’t want to but I can’t help myself. I open my eyes. He stands right in front of me. Tall, impossibly handsome. Glowing with a curious nimbus.

  “They say I am a man beyond death, outside of it. That every attempt to kill me has only made me stronger.” He shrugs a little. “And angrier. And that it’s unwise to downplay my irritation.”

  He sits down beside me, right beside me on the bed I sleep in every night, and his body causes the rushes to sink, forcing me closer to him. I make a desperate attempt to move away, but his arm catches me around my shoulders, drawing me closer.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” I whisper. I am getting lost in his midnight eyes, in his tempting lips. I can’t allow this. I have to save him. “Even you shouldn’t be here.”

  He waves off my concern with a flick of his wrist. “Tell me what happens with the candlemaker. Where was he from?”

  “Bastian?”

  Khalid nods. “Yes, tell me about Bastian, Camille.”

  “I met him when he was living in a city called New Orleans.” I’d watched the man for weeks before realizing what he was.

  Khalid smiles, his eyes closing in memory. “Yes, you called it the French Quarter when you told the tale and as you described it, I could feel the rain on my face and smell the candle Bastian made for the lovers. Do they move past their fears? Are they together?”

  “It’s just a story.”

  It wasn’t though. I’d watched the three lovers struggle and fight their desires, but I don’t want to tell Khalid. Not here in the intimacy of my bedroom. He’s far too close to me, and I am afraid if I describe how those lovers felt it will spill over onto me. They were longing for something forbidden. Just as I am now.

  “I don’t believe you. It wasn’t just a story. You saw it, experienced it in some way. As I said before you so rudely fled my quarters on the day I arrived, you’re a traveler. I know it. You can’t hide it from me.”

  I don’t like his description of me at all. “I wasn’t rude. I simply left.”

  “There was definite rudeness involved, little one, because I was promised an ogling and I didn’t get one. I told you about my masculine pride. It requires much upkeep.”

  His charm isn’t lost on me, but somehow I find the will to stand and move away from him. I need answers and must concentrate on getting them, not thinking about the fact we’re here and alone.

  “Who is La Lune?” I ask.

  He stares at me with open curiosity. “How can you not know her name? If I’m right, she’s your ancestor. Another woman who could walk through time. Many called her a witch, too. She was as beautiful as you are and a brilliant artist. Almost as talented a painter as she was an alchemist. I believe you to be one of her many children, all of whom are marked.”

  “My mother was a very nice woman. She never picked up a paintbrush as far as I know. No one ever called her a witch, and she certainly didn’t have a French nickname. Is this all a ruse to get me to take my clothes off?”

  “Being a daughter of La Lune does not mean that she gave birth to you.”

  From the set of his jaw and the flare of stars in the midnight eyes, I sense that I can only push this man so far. He’s been charming, polite, flirtatious, but now I see he has a temper.

  “And as for me wanting you to take your clothes off, the reason for my request has nothing to do with my personal desires. All daughters of La Lune bear a crescent birthmark on their lower back, where the waist curves into hips.”

  I manage to not gasp. I was born with such a stain. My mother had one too. A small lunar symbol right at the base of our spines.

  He stares through me as though he can read my mind. “As I said, you’re a daughter of La Lune, though you do not seem to have her courage.” Khalid stands. “I wish you the very best of luck, Camille. I shall tell the king he has nothing to fear from you and be on my way.” He bows and turns.

  Will I ever see him again? The idea settles on me like a dark cloud. He’s the only one who sees who I really am. I can’t let him leave. Not this soon. If he walks out now, I will never s
ee him again. He will disappear into his desert, evading the commands of the king for all of his days.

  Giving up my pride, I entreat him, “No, please, don’t go.”

  He stops at the door, opening it. “I only came to help you, Camille.” How straight his shoulders are, how perfect his posture has become. “But my help seems too difficult for you to accept. Your heritage is too frightening for you to contemplate. I understand that. So I think perhaps it would be best if I left.”

  He seems to be staring at the vine of fuchsia flowers growing on my garden wall. That he won’t face me is infinitely frustrating. There’s something between us, I know it and I know that he is aware of it too. A spark I shouldn’t deny, that I’ve fought so hard against. I’m sure—even though I don’t now how—that for these three long days and nights, every time I avoided a shadow, he was lurking there, waiting for me to say the word, speak his name, allow him to come to me.

  Even though I am breaking protocol in approaching a mage, I walk over to where he stands and when I reach him, place my hand on his arm.

  He sighs and something inside him relaxes. I can feel it. It’s as though my touch has calmed him and sucked the anger out of him.

  “Please look at me,” I whisper.

  “I can’t. If I look at you, I’ll be tempted to kiss you, Camille.”

  I smile even though I know he can’t see me.

  He doesn’t turn. I don’t remove my fingers from his flesh. We take a moment. Our first. This is the first moment my skin has brushed his, felt his warmth, shared my own. This is the first night I let my breath time to his, breathing in when he does, letting go in the same second, synchronizing with an ease I’ve never known before. This is the first time I can smell his sandalwood scent wash over me. And perhaps the first time he can smell the roses and jasmine with which I bathe.

  “Tell me about your dreams of me,” I plead. Even if he does go, before he leaves, I need to know how he sees me, why he came here, how he thought he could help.

  Finally he turns and I forget to breathe.

  “You want to know what I dreamed of? I dreamed of you. I dreamed of Camille and not Scheherazade. I dreamed of a woman with red hair and skin the color of cream. She was warm and when she smiled, I lit up inside. I could feel my soul in my dreams. Too often we are only aware of physical bodies, but when you smiled at me, I could actually feel my essence.”

  “But why would you dream of me?” I ask to stop from doing the one thing I want to do—press myself up to him, let our lips touch, surrender to him. I can’t take that step. It would be irrevocable because this is not my body. This is not my time. I can’t make ties here. It’s wrong. I was taught to travel in order to watch, to visit other planes in order to gather information and stories and learn from them. If I allow this contact with Khalid, I’ll lose myself further in this era and this place and perhaps lose all chances of getting out. I must get out. I can’t remain trapped here forever because I know the day is coming when the king will tire of my stories. One night he will force me to say the end, and then he will end my life.

  “I dream of many things that come to pass, little one, and of things I desire. And I have desired you since I learned what the word meant.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Because I haven’t finished. Impatient aren’t you?” His eyes light up with a smile as he teases me.

  I feel a blush flush my cheeks.

  He touches the spot where the heat burns. “I’ve dreamed of you since I was a child and known since then that one day my fate would entwine with a daughter of La Lune. It is part of my destiny. Part of the joy that is mine to claim.”

  I step away, breaking the enchanted moment because I find his words too hard to believe. “You’re telling me you saw me in your dreams when you were a boy? I hardly can fathom such a thing.”

  His eyes harden slightly and I wish I’d kept silent.

  “You can hardly fathom it? You who walks through time? That’s a bit hypocritical, but I’ll ignore it for now. Even the most studied of learners can prove ignorant when it comes to things they are afraid of.”

  “I’m hardly ignorant.” My arrogance rises like a snake sticking its head out of a reed basket. I resent having my intellect questioned. Even in my own time women are still sometimes condescended to, especially if they’re deemed attractive, and it always rankles. “I’ve seen more in my brief life than you’ll see in all of your years.”

  He laughs, the sound rich and deep. “Is that what you think? Let me show you something.”

  “What can you show me?” I argue as he draws me over to the mirror. Even as I try to resist, I give in. I’m too attracted to him and it’s not all about his stunning face and figure. There is a radiance that glows inside and around Khalid that draws me. When he smiles it’s like the sun has come from behind the clouds. I fear how mesmerizing that light is, how seductive it’s shine. That very morning when I should have been dreaming of a story for the king, my thoughts were stolen by a vision of Khalid, smiling down at me as he joined our bodies and souls into one under the warmth of that very light.

  “You don’t believe my magic is infinite and far reaching? You don’t believe I can see more than just this time. You require proof? Do you need me to show you just a fragment of what I can see? Come and have it, Camille.” He leads me over to the mirror that adorns the corner of Scheherazade’s bedroom.

  I hang back, inexplicably afraid. Khalid gently pushes me toward the mirror. I hold my breath and look but I see only what I’ve seen every day since I became trapped here. I see Scheherazade. I see her long, dark hair and wide eyes. She is lovely, but it’s wrong to see her image in the mirror instead of my own. As always happens when I catch a glimpse of the stranger I’ve become, a deep well of sorrow opens inside me.

  “Don’t cry.”

  In the mirror, I see a tear slip down her cheek as Scheherazade weeps.

  I turn away. “I don’t like looking at her.”

  He cups my shoulders. “There is something I need you to see. Watch, little one.” He gently shifts me so I am facing the mirror again. I close my eyes because seeing Khalid’s hands on skin that is not my own makes my sadness deepen.

  “I said you need to look, Camille.” His breath is warm against my ear. He holds me to his body and his heat caresses my skin.

  I twist my head around again and shut my eyes once more. “No! I don’t want to see her.”

  I don’t hate the woman I’ve switched bodies with. It’s simply that seeing her reminds me of all I have lost.

  “Open your eyes. I promise you will like what you see.” His voice cajoles, tempts.

  Obeying him, now out of curiosity more than acquiescence, I look in the mirror and see myself. The me I have always been. Rounder than Scheherazade. More bust, less height. Too many freckles. So much hair, I can never tame it. Pure wonder overcomes me.

  I step out of his hold and reach out to touch the mirror, but the image wavers.

  “You have to be in contact with me to see what I see.” He steps forward, his arms coming around me again, fully surrounding my body, and the image in the mirror solidifies once more.

  This time when I reach out, I can touch my own visage. In the mirror I search out his face above my own, his magic glowing around him.

  “This is a wonderful gift, Khalid!”

  He lets his head rest against mine. Looking right at me in the mirror, he speaks slowly, making sure I take in every word. “You’re beautiful, Camille. Just as beautiful as I dreamed.”

  In the silvered glass, I look at how our bodies fit together, two halves making a whole.

  “But in my dreams,” he whispers into my hair, “you were like a ghost haunting me. A copper shimmer. Indistinct. Not in sharp focus. I could feel your presence better than I could see your face. Once when I took very ill, it was your presence that comforted me.”

  He’s so certain. “But Khalid, I never knew you before now. I never had any of those same e
xperiences. I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t have been there.”

  “Ah, but you were. A part of you was. A part of you has been with me since the moment of your birth, and longer, since in every life we have ever lived our souls have found each other.”

  “I never felt that.”

  “Because you have a very thick skull,” he jokes. “I can’t help that I’m more blessed by the universe than you.” He chuckles and I feel it all along my spine. “Must you have to believe something for it to be true? You have seen it yourself just now, there in the mirror. I showed you the truth under the lie. My magic connects me to something greater that I have faith in. For all those years I believed that you would come to be with me and you have.”

  His arms tighten and I feel the exquisite pressure of his lips on my neck, his pressing need for me in the small of my back where the crescent mark sits.

  He wants me. And I want him. And his magic.

  I know there are astral planes where all who live there contain magic. All through time, there have been magnificent beasts and humans with powers beyond comprehension. Living here in the king’s palace on this particular plane has been so mundane, I’ve forgotten about how powerful enchantments, conjuring, and the unexplained can be.

  Now that I am in the arms of a man who embodies pure magic, things could change for me here. Perhaps I truly am no longer lost forever from my own time.

  “Kiss me, Camille. Let me finally know what it’s like to make love to the one woman who was made for me.”

  I shake my head no and force myself to speak when all I want is to let him kiss me and take me to my bed so we can lose ourselves in each other. But this is not the moment for that. I have lost too much of myself. It will only be possible for us to be together if I am Camille wholly and completely.

  I utter the words that I know will change the texture and the meaning of this moment.

  “Khalid, can your magic send me back?”

  As I feared he would, he stops the slow seduction of this body I’m in. His hands cease moving in tight sensuous circles on this skin. His eyes lose their languorous luster.