The Brothers Djinn

by Cate Rowan

  He moved toward the carved bed, big enough to sleep ten, and brushed the back of his fingers against the fine linen of the sheets. They were softer than he could have imagined. He pulled his fingers back and absently rubbed them with the opposite, calloused thumb.

  Birds called to each other somewhere nearby and the scent of sandalwood tickled his nose. He grabbed his pack, wanting what was familiar to stay with him, particularly since his idiot brothers weren’t doing so — and followed his ears and nose toward a well-lit doorway leading from the main chamber.

  Beyond the doorway lay an ornate bathing room, larger even than the tavern where they’d eaten their abbreviated lunch.

  More golden lamps lit the regal space. Water steamed in a marble bathing pool in which he could probably swim laps. Sleek palm trees rose from elegant pots lining the alabaster walls; colorful birds fluttered and sang among the palm fronds. In a bathing room, of all things. Most of the time a mercenary pissed where he could and made do with a cold sponge bath every few days.

  With his head awhirl, Darius approached the bath. The sandalwood fragrance arose from the bathwater and had him longing to be clean. Towels lay rolled in a nook in the wall as a further encouragement.

  For a moment he wondered if the bathwater were bespelled, but logic indicated a sorceress would have a thousand more interesting ways to kill a man than a bath. His fingertip touched to the water came away merely wet, as expected.

  Warm, clean water was a luxury not to be missed for a street rat like him. It took little time to shed his clothes onto the cool floor, and the bath was every bit as comfortable as it seemed. Still, he pondered where the fragrant water of just the right temperature had come from; there were no doors, and the only beings he saw were the birds.

  Magic, clearly.

  As he soaped himself and rinsed, he found himself wondering what it would be like to have such magical powers.

  And what, exactly, did a woman with such powers want with three unemployed mercenary soldiers and occasional thieves?

  At last he ascended the steps of the bath and let the water sluice from his skin. He wondered what all his former comrades-in-arms were doing now. Likely they were eating semi-burned meat from a firepit, telling tall tales and stewing in their own stink while they awaited orders.

  They might be, however, in less danger than he and his brothers.

  He tugged a towel from the wall nook, dried himself off, and wondered how he was going to protect Jas and Val from the unknown dangers of a sorceress, particularly when they weren’t listening to him. Battles were one thing, but the seductive skills of a woman, paired with the power of magic?

  He turned to reach for his clothes, but yanked back his hand at the view. Instead of the scattered mess he’d left behind as he headed into the water, his clothes were folded in a neat pile. As he eyed them, his skin prickled.

  Was someone here in his chambers after all? He’d heard nothing, and saw no one. Yet he fought the urge to cover himself.

  He drew himself up in a soldier’s stance, defiant — let them see who he was! — before reaching for his tunic on the top of the pile. It was clean and smelled freshly laundered. He glared at it as if it were at fault, examined it thoroughly, and warily drew it on.

  Nothing happened, besides feeling more presentable than he had before the bath. He put the rest of his clothes on, including his boots, which had been cleaned of dust and mud and were now shinier than he’d ever been able to make them while in a warlord’s service.

  He supposed some might think him hideously ungrateful, but he didn’t trust a damn thing since Val had pointed out the castle.

  With a final glare at his boots, Darius rolled his shoulders back, then picked up his pack and returned to the bedroom. After a few seconds’ hesitation, he chose to leave his pack on the marble floor next to the bed. At his age he shouldn’t need a security blanket, and beyond worn clothing and fake coins, it held nothing worth stealing.

  Then he marched out to find his brothers before they did anything stupid — though in this palace and with that sorceress around, preventing that stupidity would be harder than yanking the sun from the sky.

  Just as Darius marched from his quarters into the hallway, Val popped out of a room down the hall, bright-eyed again and beckoning him closer. “Come see, Dar! You too, Jas,” he called out toward a third doorway farther down the hall.

  Jasper moseyed from his room with a closed-off expression, which made Darius snort. As usual, Val had already forgotten his irritation — he’d even dropped the “Mother” nickname — but surly Jas was clearly still wallowing in his.

  Inside the chamber, Val greeted his brothers with an ear-to-ear grin and pointed back toward the wall they’d just crossed through via the doorway. “Didn’t I say I wanted adventure and fun? How’s this for a start?”

  On the wall that separated Val’s room from the hallway hung a painting taller than a man’s body and framed in gold. Within it lay a landscape of gently rolling hills blanketed with green grass any warlord would covet for his horses. Yet the grass in the painting moved, ruffled as if by a gentle wind.

  Darius blinked. Could this be no painting after all, but a window? Yet if it were a window, it would look out onto the hallway he’d just been in, where there was no grass in sight! Beside him, Jasper swore under his breath.

  Darius stepped closer to the impossible view and finally noticed the red tasseled carpet lying just in front of it. He stopped himself from stepping on it and turned quizzically to Val. “Do you think that’s a . . .”

  “Flying carpet? I sure as hell hope so. My bet is that it could take its rider right to that landscape, wherever it is. And I’m going to test that out myself, so back away from that carpet right now or you can both kiss your asses goodbye.”

  Annoyed by the threat, Darius didn’t move, and instead scanned the rest of the room. The walls were covered with the skins of exotic animals, some in patterns he’d never seen, and the nooks along the wall held striking sculptures and pottery in styles so different from anything he’d known that they must have come from far-distant lands. The bed, as large as the one in his own room, was covered by sheets woven with depictions of moons and clouds, sunrises and sunsets of many hues.

  He turned to Val, eyes narrowed. “Outside in the rain you said you wanted adventure, and look — here it is in this room. As for me, I’ve always envied rich people, and my room is all about wealth. “ He looked at Jasper beside him. “Jas, you’ve seen my room, and now Val’s. What’s in yours?”

  Jasper’s expression turned wary. “It’s just a room.”

  “Uh-huh.” Darius pivoted and marched down the hall to Jasper’s room with Val hot on his heels.

  As soon as Darius entered, he realized the chamber seemed impossibly large, as if the walls had swallowed up both Darius and Val’s rooms even though they had all just been in them. It seemed three times larger inside the room than outside. But what stole his attention next was what rested upon a dais toward the back.

  A throne.

  The sheer amount of gold that formed the glittering chair made Darius’s avaricious heart swell, but something about the stark coldness of its lines chilled him as well.

  He turned to Jasper. “You get a throne? You wanted a throne?”

  Jas crossed his arms. “Maybe. I mean, who wouldn’t?”

  “Power, eh?” Darius gave him an assessing look, all the while recalling how Jasper had said he was sick of being told what to do. Because apparently, Jas would rather tell others.

  For a moment, Darius felt sorry for Jasper, the permanent middle child. But the moment didn’t last. Darius had been stuck with all the responsibility, while Val got most of the fun and Jasper brooded. Spoiled, both of them.

  And how the hell did the sorceress Ina know exactly what each brother wanted most? More importantly, what did she plan to do with that information? Because Darius had learned the hard way that nothing in this life was ever given without an expectation of rep
ayment. And he shuddered to think what that repayment might cost him and his brothers.

  Just then the dinner bell rang, low and sonorous like a death knell.

  5

  Darius felt a muscle in his jaw clench at the summons to dinner. He didn’t like things he couldn’t control, and being in Ina’s palace felt like being in a desert with a sandstorm nearly upon them. She could easily sweep them all away into her maelstrom.

  Val, as usual, prodded them into action. “Ina rang the dinner bell. I, for one, am eager to see if the meal will be as interesting as our rooms.”

  Interesting? The word reminded Darius of a curse: May you live in interesting times.

  They walked toward the sound of the bell and found Ina standing at the head of a long hallway, with lamplight and the edge of a low table visible through the door at the other end. And this time, her dazzling smile was for Jasper.

  Darius watched Jas’s muscular chest puff up further, and mentally shook his head. Women were insanity wrapped in an enticing package. And that meant the men who fell hard for them were either self-indulgent louts or fools. Which category his brothers belonged to would soon be clear.

  “My lady, we’re honored to dine with you this evening.” Val executed a remarkably courtly bow for someone who’d never risen above an infantryman’s rank.

  “I’m so pleased you’re here,” she replied softly, but again, her eyes were all for Jasper.

  Val’s smile slipped momentarily, but Darius knew his youngest brother wouldn’t let anything daunt him for longer than that.

  Jasper offered her the crook of his arm, and to Darius’s surprise, she took it, with a seductive smile. They moved off down the hall.

  Darius and Val followed a length behind, Val with a wrinkled brow. Darius noticed Ina nudging Jasper slightly to the left as they walked. The movement was slight, almost natural, and he doubted either Jas or Val had noticed. That was confirmed by a quick glance at his youngest brother, who was simply staring at Ina with a lovesick expression.

  The hall was empty but for the torches lighting it, so Darius wondered why she had shifted their path. Ten feet down the hall, he realized that on the floor was the faint outline of a man’s head, a golden crown surrounding his brow and corralling his long brown hair. As Ina crossed it, she made sure to set a sandaled heel on his face, and her stride slowed there for an instant as if she were savoring the moment.

  Unlike Ina, Darius moved slightly to the side so as not to tread on the image. He stared at the face as it passed away behind them, but didn’t recognize anything that would give away the man’s identity, except that a crown meant some sort of royalty. Darius nearly asked who it was, but by then they were reaching the room at the far end, and his thoughts sputtered at the new view.

  It wasn’t a great dining hall, as Darius had expected. Instead, it was a smaller chamber, though as sumptuous as anything they’d seen in the castle. Golden lamps lined the walls above decorative alcoves laden with exotic art, pottery and sculptures. With a start, Darius noticed that most of the sculptures were of men with erect cocks.

  Gracefully offset from the center of the room lay plump red cushions surrounding a low table set for four, an intimate size for the sorceress and her guests.

  Darius wondered if there was a man of the palace. If so, that man was clearly away — but Darius suspected the palace was entirely hers, particularly considering the sculptures. Besides, her presence somehow changed the air, and made the real world outside the walls seem as insignificant as a clump of dirt. What man could match that?

  Clearly his younger brothers wished to.

  Just as they sat down upon the cushions, with Val and Jasper eagerly at Ina’s side and Darius keeping his distance across the table from her, three servants bearing platters emerged from a door along the wall behind Ina.

  Three gorgeous servants draped in incredibly fine, almost transparent fabric. Women who could, in any other company, bring men to their knees.

  Darius felt his lower jaw drifting down and hastily closed it. He noticed that Val and Jasper were gamely trying not to stare.

  A slow smile pooled on Ina’s face like wine into a noble’s cup. “Guests,” she said, “fear not. I offer you a feast tonight, for your eyes as well as your stomachs. Are my servants not the most beautiful you’ve ever seen?”

  Val, who had apparently donned the mantle of the courtliest brother, risked a response. “They’re as lovely as delicate candles. Yet none rivals you, a star of heaven.”

  She graced Val with an approving glance, and he visibly swelled under her gaze.

  The first servant reached Jasper. Her loosely braided raven hair hung below her shapely behind. Darius recalled Jasper’s previous flings and realized the servant perfectly matched Jasper’s type. She laid a beer and a deep-sided white bowl of fragrant stew in front of him, while her eyes undressed him. Jasper, never much a man of words, reddened as both the servant and Ina looked at him. Darius coughed, smothering a chuckle at his brother’s discomfiture.

  Next, Val was served by a woman with unbound, sun-kissed hair and a pair of ochre-red lips that would make any man dream of long nights in her bed. Valerian gamely tried to ignore her and focus on Ina, but wasn’t entirely successful. Ina didn’t seem to mind.

  Then came Darius’s turn. His server’s brunette hair curled over her shoulders, rippled and flowing like water over river rocks. Her sun-touched cheeks brought to mind the rousing warmth of bedplay. She stood behind him and grazed his shoulder with her breast as she placed the beer and the stew on the table, and his groin roused despite himself.

  He looked up to see Ina smiling as if she knew what his body was doing beneath his tunic. Somehow she had food before her as well, and a basket of fresh-baked bread wafted its fragrance toward him. Yet despite the heavenly scents, he found his gaze locked on Ina’s, and the tiny, seductive curve at the corner of her mouth.

  A startling lust flamed inside him. He imagined her keeping that same smile as he slipped the linen from her shoulders, then trailed his fingers down her neck. He could almost hear her sexy purr as he did, a satisfied growl and a promise of more, much more to come. With her long, clever fingers, she reached down for him, and . . .

  He blinked, and realized that someone had said something. Val was looking at him expectantly. Only a tattered memory of what his brother had said echoed in his ear. “What was that?”

  Val shook his head, smirking. “Never mind.”

  Darius found his cheeks heating, and he avoided Ina’s gaze. She was a dangerous woman, even more skilled than he’d suspected. He busied himself with the stew and the beer.

  Until he realized that Jasper, always the quickest to wolf down his food and brew, was staring into his high-sided bowl, his spoon hanging nearly loose in his hand.

  Ina tilted her head. “Ah, I see you finished your stew, Jasper. I enjoy a man with a healthy appetite.”

  Jasper gave her a hot, questioning glance before staring into the ceramic bowl again.

  Val jumped in with a transparent (and fatuous) effort to regain her attention. “But shouldn’t we all savor something so delicious? Your cook is a master — as befits you, a woman of such grace and refinement.”

  Darius lost her offhand reply as he stole another look at Jasper, narrowed his eyes, and finished off his own stew to see if something was at the bottom of his bowl.

  He nearly choked on the final spoonful.

  Painted in sleek lines against the white glaze of the bowl was a man and a woman — a woman who looked distinctly like Ina — clasped together in the throes of passion, their eyes closed in ecstasy. As Darius gazed on it, he imagined himself as the man, and Ina as the woman. He buried himself deep inside her, felt her nails clutch him and her breathy moan of desire against his skin. His own breath came ragged as he thrust again . . .

  He lifted his head, and across the table from him, her gaze locked with his. He could almost feel her fingertips along his spine.

  Val, who’d been
babbling on, finally reached the bottom of his own bowl. Brother Suave’s blathering slowed to a halt, his face reddened, and he cleared his throat before looking up at Ina.

  She gave Val a seductive side-glance and licked her lips. Val’s nostrils flared like a wild bull sensing a cow’s estrus.

  Ina touched her chin with a slim finger, then trailed her finger down her throat. She had the brothers’ full attention — including Darius’s, despite himself.

  She’d skillfully maneuvered each of the three men into desire in spite of their better judgment. His better judgment, anyway. He’d been doubtful his brothers had any judgment at all since the moment they’d seen Ina in the distance.

  Darius sensed that the lust level in the room was nearing peak capacity, and yet despite his own body’s readiness, he felt dirty in a way that soured his stomach.

  He tore his gaze away from Ina and gulped down more of the decidedly delicious beer — only to realize, belatedly, that his beer must have been refilling itself throughout the meal. He suspected his brothers’ beers had been doing the same. How much had they all had to drink?

  “My lady,” came a polite but urgent whisper from the door behind Ina. She swiveled her head toward the servant — the one who’d served Darius — who was apologetically beckoning her mistress toward her.

  Ina rose and consulted with the servant. Darius managed to overhear something about a stallion and a broken fence. All the while, his skin was still tingling from Ina’s imagined touch and his groin was aching.

  “I’m so sorry to shorten this dinner, my dear guests,” she said from the doorway, “but I must go. I’ll make it up to you later. In fact, I’ll bring dessert to you in your rooms.” Her throaty promise sparked the air, and Darius’s own lustful appetite, and then she was gone.

  Darius let out his breath, slowly, as the temperature in the room cooled without her presence.

  Since his teenage years, he had been intimate with many women, but none had the sheer sexual magnetism of Ina. And none of the others had twisted his gut.