“Especially since most of them were cruel to you in your beggar days.”
“Most, but not all. I can only hope that my kindness and generosity is a lesson to those who mistreated me. I won’t sink to their level.”
She nuzzled his bared throat when he tilted his head back, peppering small kisses against his neck. “You are nothing like the Joaidane of the legends.”
“I’ve spent years wanting to be anyone but him, and now that I’m not… it feels good.”
“As good as my kisses?” she teased.
He stiffened beneath her, cock rising readily at the slightest provocation. A hint and a promise of sex was all it took, and then his body remembered what it was like to be a virile young man. “Not quite as good as your kisses, though I warn you, your brother will be home soon. Don’t start something we can’t finish.”
His words proved true, the herald to her brother’s arrival. The front door opened and Kazim stepped inside.
Kazim came up short and eyed their position. “Don’t let me interrupt. I’ll have a walk around the neighborhood.”
“Don’t do that,” Zarina said. “We’re done, and you’ve been working. Come in. There’s jasmine tea in the chillbox.”
Over the weeks since Kaspar and Bijam’s destruction, they’d all settled into a comfortable routine following the workday. Kazim poured cold drinks for everyone while Joaidane assisted Zarina with dinner. He’d taken a surprising amount of pleasure in learning to prepare meals and performing chores he’d once thought were beneath him.
“What will happen now, do you think?” Kazim asked. “With no one ruling the city, won’t chaos ensue?”
“Some of the people have asked Joaidane to take the throne as ruler,” Zarina said.
“Which I have humbly declined.” He had no interest in becoming the new sultan. “Besides, I have amends to make in Ankirith.”
While flashing them both a bittersweet smile, Kazim leaned back to glance at his sister’s belly. “It’s such a long journey. Although I’m happy for the both of you, I’ll miss you each day while thanking the gods for blessing me with so fine a brother-in-law as Joaidane. Take care of Zarina and my nephew. Or niece.”
“Perhaps you should accompany us,” Joaidane offered.
“But the shop?”
“Can come with you. I’ve heard the city has grown prosperous over the years. There’s room for more than one butcher in Naruk, so shouldn’t there be room for more than one spice merchant elsewhere?”
Kazim stroked his chin and settled on the other side of her. “I don’t know… All my trade agreements—”
“Are with a merchant from Ankirith,” Zarina reminded him before adding in a gentle voice, “and since the woman you admire is promised to wed another, you have no reason to stay here on your own.”
Kazim drew in a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and nodded. “You’re right. A fresh start is what I need. We both deserve that much.”
Zarina threw her arms around her brother and hugged him tight.
In the span of a week, they managed to pack their entire lives into a single caravan. Now that she had become visibly pregnant, Joaidane no longer wanted her to ride astride a horse. He instead crafted a sturdy but attractive carriage to carry them in style to Ankirith. For Kazim’s inventory and their belongings, he acquired two covered wagons and claimed the domesticated dunestriders from the sultan’s stables.
“Do you think they’ll ever run free again?” Zarina asked as their journey began.
“Perhaps Mithran could teach them to be wild once more. Only time will tell.”
Mithran’s guidance and knowledge of the desert halved their travel time to less than a month, and magic made the journey across the treacherous desert as gentle as a winter breeze. With Joaidane in their company, they had no fear of desert marauders. Every step closer to home sent nervous elation flooding through his body until he tingled with anticipation.
He had no idea what he would find, and the idea terrified him.
“Are you all right?” Zarina asked.
“A little worried. When I left home, I was reviled. They use me as a bogeyman to scare their children.”
“You’re no longer Rumpelstiltskin,” Zarina said.
“He’ll always be a part of me.”
Joaidane lowered his gaze to his hands, but Zarina’s cool fingers tipped his chin upward and her compassionate gaze met his. “And I love that part of you as much as the rest.”
What the hell had he ever done to deserve her? Lacking words to express how he felt, he took her hands and kissed her fingers instead.
Mithran neighed, drawing his attention beyond the carriage window.
“Ready yourself.”
“For what?” she asked.
Joaidane grinned at her. “You’ll see.”
Once they crested the large dune before them, Zarina’s eyes widened. Below their caravan, dozens of gemstone spires in varying sizes scattered across the desert like exotic flowers, rising from the ivory sand in every color. Beneath the sun’s golden rays, they cast dancing rainbow shimmers. Some were as tall as a person, others no larger than poppies. A handful resembled trees with many translucent branches stretching toward the sky like crystalline fingers.
The sight moved Zarina to tears. She clutched both hands against her chest and wept. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry… I just… It’s more magnificent than anything I imagined. I never thought I would see this place.”
Joaidane’s heart swelled at the wonder in her expression. He blinked a few times to clear his misty vision and held her close, cheek against the top of her head.
“The stories always seemed too wondrous to be true, but now I see they do not even compare,” Kazim said.
“Now you will get to see this every day. Wherever your heart desires to go, I will see it happen, Zarina.”
They traveled the border of the Jeweled Garden to the east, where the sands blended into fields patched with grass, rocky canyons, and wild blossoms. Joaidane drew in a deep breath and tasted salt on the wind.
He’d finally reached home, a journey three centuries in the making.
The Opal Spire came into view around the next bend, surrounded by what had once been a humble village. In its place, a sprawling, vast port city stretched from the coast.
In the time since his exile, Ankirith had grown as majestic as Naruk, if not greater, but nothing about the dimmed spire implied it remained occupied. No lights shone in the many windows.
Zarina drew his hand into her lap and squeezed his fingers.
“I wonder why the sultan never tried to take Ankirith for himself,” Kazim mused.
“Liang’s imperial family conducts too much trade with Ankirith. It’s always been a kind of free city on the border, owned by neither Liang nor Samahara, but protected by my mother’s family.”
“And now you,” Zarina said.
“And now me,” he repeated in a soft voice. “There’s no possible way anyone alive would remember my face. Three hundred years have passed since my curse. My mother… she’ll be gone. Our kind live for quite a while, but I don’t expect to find her awaiting me.”
Zarina placed her head against his shoulder and slid her arm around his chest. Her breath tickled his cheek, a warm whisper skimming his throat. “I’m sorry.”
The cold fingers of remorse wrapped around his heart. “No one should be sorry but me. And even now, regret and self-pity won’t do anything to bring her back.”
Clenching his fists at his sides, he stared up at the magnificent tower above them. Shimmers danced across the pearlescent surface, and each window reflected rainbow light. His mother had lived there, and her father before her, and now so many years later, he wondered if he could reclaim it at all.
People stopped and stared as they passed through the outer farms and orchards. A hard-packed road led them toward the tower, its grounds surrounded by a fence crafted from delicate glass, gold, and silver. The flora within flourished
vibrant with lively color, and desert blossoms hung heavy from plump succulents and cacti. They drew to a stop outside the gates and stepped out into the dwindling sunlight.
“It’s so beautiful,” Zarina said. “I know I’ve said that a lot this trip, but I don’t know what else to say. It’s… it’s magical.”
“It’s home,” Joaidane whispered.
Movement from the other side of the gate drew his attention. An older man carrying a crystal lantern approached and drew open the latticed portal.
“Good evening, folks. The name’s Orrin. Might I help you?”
“We came to see the enchantress,” Joaidane replied. “Or whoever rules this place in her stead.”
“No one’s stirred in that tower for years.” The old man mopped his brow.
Joaidane closed his eyes as Zarina squeezed his hand in support.
He’d always expected she would have passed, but the cruel reality of knowing he could never apologize hurt even more. Never being able to make amends. “How long has it been since she died?”
“About three years now, I’d say. I was standing in this very garden the day she took her staff and disappeared into the desert. It wasn’t too much later that a letter arrived from Liang, informing the sheikh Safiyya had died.”
“And no one claimed the tower?”
Orrin shrugged. “The enchantress may have died, but her magic lives on. A few people tried at first, to no avail. A passing wizard made the attempt and was turned into a lizard for his trouble.”
Joaidane cringed. Looking back, he understood where he’d inherited his rotten, sometimes inappropriate sense of humor.
“My family has dwelled in the caretaker’s home at the base of the tower for several generations.”
Studying the man in front him, Joaidane searched for resemblances to the courteous and amiable fellow who’d once brought his mother’s mail, tended her garden, and cleaned after him as a child. The only thing he recognized was the hooked nose and the way his entire face crinkled like a prune when he smiled. “Then you are a descendant of Pamina and Urshtal?”
“I am, but how did you know that?”
“Because the sorceress who once lived here…” His throat tightened. “Enchantress Safiyya was my mother. I am Joaidane, the one who was cursed and exiled.”
Orrin studied him in return. “Before her departure, she gave a final command. She asked for our family to continue to care for the grounds until the return of her lost son.” He gestured toward the locked tower door. “If you are truly who you claim to be, it will open for you. Though I must warn you, many have claimed to be Joaidane in recent months, and yet no one has successfully opened it.”
“Go on,” Zarina whispered. She gave his hand another squeeze. “I’ll be right here beside you.”
Pushing aside his fear, Joaidane followed the cobblestone path to the gilded door. Arcane glyphs covered the surface in flowing swirls and graceful swoops.
“There isn’t a latch or a knob,” Zarina said.
Joaidane pressed his palm against the door. It swung open under his touch.
“Master Joaidane, welcome home,” Orrin said from behind them. “I’ll see your horses to the stable.”
“Thank you, Orrin.”
“I’ll help,” Kazim offered. “You two take your time inside.”
Despite the passing of so many years, they encountered dustless surfaces and spotless floors. Everything was as he remembered it, from the multi-hued crystal chandelier hanging in the center of the room right down to the rugs laid across the marble floors. To the left, a stairwell spiraled upward against the wall.
A snap of Joaidane’s fingers summoned pale golden orbs of light to the flameless sconces on the walls, growing in brightness over a few seconds.
“So many stairs,” Zarina said as she peered at the stairwell. She craned her neck and marveled over the beauty, lips parted in awe.
“You may wait here if you’d like. It’s a long—”
“I’m not an invalid yet,” she teased while poking his side. Then she grimaced and stroked her belly, movement rippling across her stomach from a strong kick. “I enjoy walking.”
“We could fly,” he offered.
“Maybe on the way down.”
Something within the tower’s magic made the climb an effortless ascent. They wound their way up five floors, pausing whenever Joaidane pointed out what each level contained.
“A whole room full of books?”
“More than Amira’s shop. And it’s all yours.”
“You might lose me for days,” she teased.
“Then we’ll get lost together.” He guided her up one more level and stopped outside a door made from silver. Gemstones studded the carved frame. Sapphires had always been Safiyya’s favorite jewel.
“What’s this?” Zarina asked.
“My mother’s room was here… through this door.” He hesitated at the threshold while blinking back the burning beneath his lids. Part of him hoped to find her on the other side at her desk, but his sensible half knew better.
“Would you like me to wait out here?”
His hold around her waist tightened. “No.”
At a touch, the door opened to allow him inside. Memories and familiar scents washed over him, flowers and spice mingling with the sea breeze coming in through the open window. A single candle on the desk was lit by magic that was not his own, and the flickering light revealed a letter sealed with his mother’s mark—a crescent moon in blue wax.
“Go on. Open it,” Zarina encouraged.
“What if she scorned me until her death?”
“Oh, my love, I don’t think she could ever do that. She wouldn’t have left this for you if she did.”
“You’re right.” When she stood on tiptoe to kiss him, her tummy nudged against his stomach. Her persistent enthusiasm and stalwart belief gave him hope. The seal snapped, unfolding a sheet of scented stationery with Enchantress Safiyya’s familiar, looping scrawl.
* * *
My dearest Joaidane, I write this in the hope you may one day forgive my faults and numerous mistakes. I failed you as a mother then and trust the years have allowed you to reach your full potential as the man I always knew you could be.
Not once in these years have I ever stopped loving or missing you, but your lesson was one to be learned in experience and hardship alone.
I forgive you. There was never any doubt you would be here again.
All that was mine is yours. Use it well.
Goodbye, my most beloved son. I pray you and your family live in happiness and grace. Sometimes I see the three of you in my dreams and know you’ll be every bit the man your father also hoped you would be. I go to find him now and hope one day you can forgive me in return.
* * *
Joaidane bowed his head and pressed the letter against his heart. “She forgave me,” he breathed.
As his wife snuggled against his side, she wrapped her arms around his waist and feathered kisses over his jaw, a pleasant balm to the bittersweet ache left by his mother’s final note. “Of course she did, silly. She was your mother.”
“What do I do now?”
“Do honor to her memory and be the protector Ankirith needs.” She maneuvered in front of him and took his face between both of her hands. “Continue to be a good husband. Be a wonderful father.”
When he stroked her belly, their growing child stretched and kicked in response. “No day will ever pass that I take either of you for granted.”
Once word spread throughout Ankirith, the citizens rejoiced and threw a weeklong celebration, thrilled to once again have a protector in the Opal Spire. Eventually, the fable of Rumpelstiltskin became a distant, forgotten memory, obliterated by the heroic tale of Zarina the Brave and Joaidane the Wise.
With no greater hardships to dim their family’s future, they lived happily ever after, known as much for their generosity and compassion as for their devotion to everyone who lived in the city below the magic t
ower.
Other Books by Vivienne
Fairy Tale Retellings
For the reader who likes their romance milder
Beauty and the Beast
Red and the Wolf
Goldilocks and the Bear
Belle and the Pirate
Karina and the Djinn
Rapunzel and the Griffin Prince
Dragons
For the reader who likes their romance smutty
Loved by the Dragon
Smitten: Dawn of the Dragons #2
Crush on a Dragon: Dawn of the Dragons #3
God of Mischief: Dawn of the Dragons #4
Military Shifters
Hot and Wild military alphas
The Right to Bear Arms (Book #1)
Let Us Prey (Book #2)
The Purr-fect Soldier (Book #3)
Old Dog New Tricks (Book #4)
Texas Pride (Book #5)
Impractical Magic
Milder romance for the reader who loves action
Impractical Magic
Better Than Hex (Impractical Magic #2)
* * *
Blood Heiress
It’s all about the plot and a slow burn relationship
Blood Kissed
* * *
Werewolves of San Antonio
* * *
Training the Alpha
Mythological Creatures
Making Waves
Other Books by Payne & Taylor
Epic Fantasy by Dominique Kristine
Shadows for a Princess
* * *
A princess who would rather die than wed. A warrior priest who would rather kill than see her harmed. A kingdom of shadows and treachery that threatens them both...
* * *
At the age of twenty-eight, Princess Ysolde Westbrook is a spinster duchess, the adopted daughter of Hindera's eccentric monarch. Commoners love their benevolent leader, but the kingdom's gentry take offense to the outsider among them. Amid noble plots and demands for her to marry a local aristocrat, an assassination attempt places her life in peril--if she will not have one of them for a husband, they would sooner see her dead.
Zarina and the Djinn Page 19
