Her eyes grew large. “I know of the Ridaeron Dynasty. We’re at war with them, are we not?”
“Indeed, we are, but these were different times when our many neighboring nations were at peace. Then, it was common for migrants to cross the Viridian Sea to seek new beginnings, and many would work for a time before taking their earnings to their country of origins. As my grandfather was a practical man, and he enjoyed exploration, he accepted the invitation of a wealthy jarl to enchant the perimeter of his expansive keep with defensive spells and magic.”
“He was also a sorcerer like you?”
“Of course. As I mentioned before, I come from a family of magic.” Before his mother had become the Grand Enchantress of Ankirith, the title had belonged to his grandmother. Fond memories brought a crashing wave of nostalgia over him. Joaidane closed his eyes and thought of his mother tucking him into bed each night with a tale from her own childhood. “They chartered a boat of their own and sailed the Viridian Sea on a monthlong journey to Ridaeron’s most prosperous city. Three weeks into their adventure, they were attacked.”
“By what?”
Joaidane traced a finger in the sand beside their rug and channeled magical power into the fine grains. They ignited within seconds and sent up plumes of blue and purple fire while a crystalline glimmer shone beneath them. Glass formed and cooled within seconds, and at the center, the fire continued to crackle, although the smoke above it took the shape of a merchant galleon. Nebulous tendrils arose from the fire and wrapped around the ship’s bow. “A kraken.”
Excitement danced in Zarina’s gray eyes. Unmoving, she sat transfixed by the magical display. When she reached for the smoke, it dispersed and swirled around her fingers, only to reform once more. “A kraken? Such things exist?”
“They do, though they are nocturnal and a rare sight on the Viridian Sea. Most steer clear of picking a fight. This one, however, was quite hungry, and it was willing to risk a battle.”
A mere flick of his fingers gave color and detail to the hazy images of a ship and giant squid, one blue and the other red as multiple, scarlet tentacles wrapped around the ship.
“Starved for prey, it tried to capsize their ship, and the captain had no choice but to turn to my grandfather for help.”
“And he helped?”
“Of course. The kraken made for a formidable opponent, even against a sorcerer so skilled as my grandfather. Their large size and tough exteriors are resistant to physical and magical attack, which makes battling them at sea a challenge. Grandfather made his stand upon the forecastle of the ship where most magicians prefer to cast, and then he faced down the kraken alone as all sailors fled the deck.”
His companion appeared entranced, her eyes growing larger by the second as he conducted an epic sea battle made of smoke and fire. Each movement of his hands guided the smoke, raised the flames, and sent splashes of water coursing over the phantom ship’s deck. “Lightning flew and the winds howled as he and the monster traded blows. Its tentacles could not penetrate my grandfather’s arcane shield, and likewise, he could not pierce it.”
“Did the rest of the crew do nothing to help?”
“What could they do? It had already swept three members of the crew over the rails and into the water to devour them. The rest hid within the gun deck and prepared the cannons, little good it did them. Although she had been ordered to the safety of their stateroom, my mother stole into the captain’s quarters and watched through a viewport.”
The story continued as branches of lightning sizzled through the air above the fire in shades of vermillion, blue, and green, each bolt a different color than the last. The kraken reared up and released its hold on the ship as a swirling vortex moved across the sea’s turbulent surface.
“It’s a whirlpool!” Zarina cried. She clasped both hands together.
“Indeed. My grandfather put all his power and all his might into a final spell. The kraken was drawn into the whirlpool, and then a tremendous waterspout sent it soaring through the air. It flew an impossible distance, carried by the winds until it skimmed the clouds in the sky. Wherever the kraken landed, it was far away from them.”
“And they were saved.”
“Not yet. Grandfather sagged against the rail,” Joaidane continued, as the smoke depicted an exhausted man staggering, “and fell overboard.”
“No!”
“Only for my mother to catch him with her spell. She had emerged from the captain’s quarters at the precise moment that the waterspout tossed the kraken away. When she saw her father possessed no more strength, she saved his life as he had saved all others aboard the ship. Afterward, my grandfather did not awaken for many days, and when he did, he chastised her for leaving safety.”
“But she saved his life.”
“She did. But a father’s love for his daughter is greater than his love for himself. So you see, my mother was grounded to their cabin for the remaining duration of their voyage.”
“That doesn’t seem very fair. She did the right thing.”
“Indeed. And as a fair man, once they reached their destination, Grandfather gifted her with her very first staff to show his appreciation. As she had bent the rules and gone against his wishes, he had no choice to discipline her, but because he loved her and honored her courage, he rewarded her as well.”
Zarina’s tense shoulders eased and the light danced in her eyes again, reflecting the smoky image of a man holding his young daughter close. “That was an amazing story.”
“I thought so as well when my mother shared it with me. She and my grandfather are everything I hope to be one day.”
More stories filled the night, and the hours passed rapidly until he became aware of the moon drifting through the sky, beginning a descent toward the horizon. By then, Zarina’s tired eyes had begun to drift shut at longer intervals.
Joaidane stood and offered her a hand up from the rug, which vanished once she rose to her feet. “We should return to Naruk before your family worries that I’ve stolen you away. Won’t you have to tend the shop this morning?”
“Yes, but the exhaustion will be worth it.” She smiled. “Your company is worth it, and if I’m only to have three nights each month to spend with you, I’ll take lack of sleep any day.”
Joaidane dismounted near the city outskirts, then assisted Zarina down. Her body slid against him, and she remained close, his hands on her hips and her palms resting on his chest. Beneath her splayed fingers, his heart pounded like a drum.
“This was wonderful. Thank you.” Zarina gazed up at him. “You’ve given me a truly special evening.”
“I’d hoped you’d like it.”
“Can we ride again tomorrow?”
“If you like, and if Mithran is willing.”
Mithran nickered and nosed her shoulder. She giggled.
“Thank you for a wonderful ride, Mithran. I’ll never forget it.” She stroked the stallion’s mercurial forelocks away from his brow and gazed up at him with shimmering, moist eyes. “Ever.”
Leaving Joaidane with the feeling that his friend would return the next night, the dunestrider trotted away. He picked up speed with each step until he broke into a powerful gallop and his hooves beat against the golden sand. A cyclone of arcane fog and mist surrounded him. Seconds later, he faded from sight on the distant horizon.
“He liked you,” Joaidane said.
“I hope so. I like him, too.”
The same guard, drowsing against his post, nodded to them in acknowledgment when they returned. Joaidane escorted her through the lower district.
When the simple home came into view, he frowned and dreaded parting her company to face a day as his disgusting alter ego. Despite his trepidation, he simultaneously found and lost the resolve to release her hand when they reached the bottom stair.
Drawn to her as a thirsting man to water, Joaidane dipped his head down and claimed her mouth.
Although it was light, barely parting her lips with the tip of his
tongue, every fiber of his being demanded more. Zarina was intoxicating, sweet as wine, softer than the most expensive silks. Her fingers curled into his shirt and she leaned into him, trusting and innocent.
That thought alone reminded him to remain patient. He pulled away, unwilling to take advantage of her enthusiasm. “Meet me here again tomorrow,” he whispered. “What shall I bring you?”
“I don’t need gifts, Joaidane. Only your company.”
“Then I will surprise you.”
Unable to resist, he kissed her again. Soul-deep desire warred against his conflicting senses. Parting from her side took all his willpower, but he finally stepped back and bowed. Tomorrow was a new night, and he looked forward to finding yet another exciting experience to share with her.
Chapter
The three nights with Joaidane became a habit, a monthly treat Zarina anticipated. By day, she worked hard at the spice shop, and at night, she explored the dunes alongside her new friend. He was never without a new adventure or story to share with her.
And while they were alone, despite being unchaperoned, he proved everything she’d ever been told about men was a lie. His self-control remained impeccable, his manners flawless, and he never tried to seduce her, despite sizzling kisses—kisses that filled her with increasing hunger to discover more. She’d dared to touch him once with only his trousers as a barrier beneath her fingers, and she’d found him hard as a stone, the girth of him solid beneath her fingers.
Kazim’s voice interrupted the silence. “You’re daydreaming again.”
Startled from her thoughts, Zarina jerked upright on her stool. “I am not.” Thank the gods he couldn’t read her mind and know where her imagination had gone.
“You are, and I have to say, I’m a little worried about you.”
“Why?”
“You’ve never introduced me to this mysterious man you pine for, although the polite thing to do would be to come and introduce himself to your family so that we know you are safe in his hands.”
“Oh, well….” She fidgeted in her seat.
“Has he… has he shamed you?”
“What? No!”
Relief stood out on her brother’s face. “Forgive me, I should have known better.”
“Yes, you should have. Not to mention that it’s none of your business. Should I ask you the same when you visit the Mamoura farm?” She dropped her gaze to her lap and smoothed her hands over her skirt. If Kazim knew her thoughts only moments ago, he would have justification for his worries, and by Samaharan law, he’d be within his right to confront Joaidane and demand that he either make a marriage proposal or stay away from her. “It’s not like—”
A crash echoed from the back room, the noise of shattering pottery or glass. Zarina and her brother jumped up and twisted to look behind them toward the door.
“Go fetch the guard,” Kazim whispered.
“What? No. If it’s a cat or a desert basilisk, they’ll charge us for wasting their time.”
With Kazim in the lead, they both moved to inspect their back storeroom. Zarina peeked around her brother’s shoulder. The clay shards of a shattered pot lay, thankfully, empty. She had laid it out to dry only an hour before.
“See?” she said. “There’s no one here. Maybe I didn’t push it back far enough and the wind knocked it over.”
“Maybe.” He didn’t sound convinced.
Rolling her eyes put her on the receiving end of a hard stare. She ignored him, then moved past and knelt by the jar’s remnants. “I’ll clean this up. You keep an eye on the front.”
She waited until Kazim moved off to the storefront before abandoning the mess and inspecting the room. The back door remained closed and locked, but wind stirred the sapphire curtains framing the open window. From the corner of her eye, a dark shadow moved. In that split second of distraction, a strong arm wrapped around her from behind and lifted her feet from the floor. The attacker’s other hand covered her mouth.
“Where’s the money?” the man rasped against her ear. “If you scream, I’ll strangle you, understand?”
Zarina nodded.
“Now tell me where you keep your rubles.”
The moment his hand lowered from her mouth, Zarina screamed out for Kazim. The man wasn’t much larger than her, and certainly no match for her brother, and that similarity in size provided all the courage she needed. Their close proximity to the wall gave her a surface to place both of her feet. She shoved with all her strength, threw the man off balance, and his head bounced off the wall beside a shelf packed with spice jars.
Zarina and her assailant spilled onto the ground in a tangle of limbs. Her elbow landed in his gut, and then his fist clipped her temple. Tears sprang to her eyes and white spots flooded her vision, but their flailing struck the leg of a three-tier shelf and disturbed the bounty of jarred spices. Glass bottles and clay pots dropped to the floor when it toppled, and though none struck Zarina, one brained her attacker in the nose.
“Zarina!”
Her brother burst in, but a second man appeared from nowhere and charged him. They fell back through the doorway into the storefront and vanished from her field of sight. Unable to help Kazim, she struggled against her assailant and shoved back a second time. More bottles crashed to the floor, and soon the fresh aroma of blended cardamom, ground pepper, and powdered ginger filled the air.
Freed from her assailant’s grip, she stumbled forward and reached for a knife on the counter. Once she had the leather-wrapped handle in her hand, she whirled around and slashed it through the air toward him.
“You shouldn’t play with knives, little girl.” Dark bangs hung down in the man’s face, so long they almost covered his black eyes. He wore a scarf across his mouth, the green fabric distended by an enormous beak of a nose.
“Stay back.”
When she swung the knife, her assailant clapped the blade between both palms, twisted it from her grip, and tossed it aside. It hit the floor and skittered beneath a counter, far out of her reach.
Zarina bolted toward the window. “Guards! Guards, help us!” Her cries echoed across the alley until a vicious tug on her hair jerked her off her feet. The man yanked her back and shoved her against the wall with his lean body, pinning her with the hard frame of his hips and chest. The sour odor of stale sweat and cloves invaded her nose.
“I tire of your games, girl. Where’s the money?”
“Please don’t hurt my brother and me.”
“Then give us the money.”
“There’s a b-box in the cabinet.”
Crashes and grunts echoed from the front, but Zarina couldn’t see her brother. She prayed to all the powers that be for Kazim to remain safe while her attacker dragged her across the room by her arm. He shoved her down and pointed to the wall.
“Sit there and don’t move.”
The thief ransacked the cabinet. He threw out bottles and papers without care of their contents, breaking delicate glass vials and ruining their hoarded stock of parchment paper. At last he stepped away with the small wooden box where Zarina stored the day’s earnings.
“Where’s the gold?”
“Please, that’s all we’ve made today.” What few golden rubles they had earned went straight into a niche hidden in the floor, yet another secret Kazim and Zarina kept from their father. Was it right to conceal the true value of their wages from him? She’d debated the question time and time again, but never in her life had she thought it would be used like this. She rubbed her clammy hands against her skirt.
Where were the guards? How had no one raised the alarm after so much noise?
“You worthless wench. If you won’t give us gold, I’ll take payment in another way.”
Terror sent her pulse racing, but instead of panic, a cool clarity took over her thoughts. The thief may have taken her knife, but weapons shone and glittered from every corner of the workroom. She scrambled back across the floor until her hands struck the broken bottles. Glass splinters sliced a
gainst her skin. The man followed, towering above her with a feral gleam in his eyes.
“Stay back,” she warned.
“Or what? What’s a small thing like you going to do to me?”
Her fingers closed around a jagged piece from a shattered jar. Beside her other hand, she felt a cool pile of ginger and curry. Half mad with desperation and fury, she swept a handful at his face. It created an aromatic cloud of spices and stung her eyes too—a small price to pay for the way he coughed and choked. Although her attacker fell back from the assault, she lunged at him with her makeshift weapon and buried the clay shard in his upper thigh. Hot blood pulsed from the wound and covered her fingers.
The thief’s backhand took Zarina off her feet. Pain exploded throughout her jaw, her head snapped back, and she bit her tongue when she hit the wall. Tears freely coursed down her cheeks while the bleeding man grabbed their money box and bolted for the rear door. He left a trail of blood behind him.
“Zarina! Zarina, are you all right?”
Kazim stumbled in and dropped to his knees beside her. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth, and one eyes had begun to swell shut.
“You’re hurt!” she cried.
“I’ll be fine. What of you? Are you injured? What did that animal do to you?”
She touched her tender cheek and winced. “Nothing a poultice and some sleep won’t ease.”
“Thank the gods.”
“Where is the other man?”
“He fled after his companion.”
“He grabbed our money. He took it.”
Kazim’s gaze moved to the bloody trail on the storeroom floor. His jaw clenched. “They didn’t get the gold box, so we still have some coins, but…”
“It won’t be enough for the taxes owed in two days,” she finished. “And they’ve also ruined much of our stock.” She gestured toward the piles of ruined merchandise, some of which were irreplaceable herbs harvested during specific times of the year, out of season for many more months.
Her brother’s shoulders slumped. “No, it won’t, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that you are safe. Come, let’s get you up off the floor.”
Zarina and the Djinn Page 7
