I stared down at my robes, indigo silk pants with an embroidered hem and a fitted corset over a billowing cream shirt that cinched at my wrists, but left the tops of my bosoms, which had been pushed up scandalously by the corset, bare. I felt exposed and vulnerable. I’d pinned the broach the woman in the market had given me to the waistband of my pants. Now, more than ever, I needed it on me, especially when errant thoughts about Baal kept flitting through my mind. The last thing I wanted was to him to read them. I’d brought Frieda too this time, and she was safely strapped to my right calf. I wasn’t getting caught out again. There was no compromising on footwear, though. My prosthetic was tailored for my low-heeled boots so that was that, but the rest …
“Irina, seriously, do I have to have my tits out like this? And the hair?”
Irina had piled it up on top of my head, leaving tendrils to brush against my cheeks. I felt it made my birthmark stand out, but Irina said it made me look fierce, a sharmuta befitting an Overlord such as Baal.
She rolled her eyes now. “You are a pain, do you know that?”
“Is that any way to speak to your future queen?”
She pressed her lips together and reached for a heap of fabric which she passed to me. It was a cloak made of the softest material I’d ever felt—dark as night and billowy enough to hide my heaving bosom.
Thank goodness!
“Remember your role, stay in character. You are Baal’s sharmuta. You belong to him.”
I sighed. “Yeah, I know. I’m Baal’s whore.” Until it’s time to declare myself.
Irina helped me shrug on the robe. “It’s a powerful thing, being a sharmuta, keep your ears and eyes open and you may learn something of use.”
They’d pumped me with as much information as they could. Baal had shown me the fifth dimension, its highs and lows, the opulence and the poverty, and Agares and Irina had filled me in on the struggles of power, of the political agendas I would be surrounded by at court, reminding me to assume that everyone wanted something of me. As Baal’s first sharmuta I would be under scrutiny, and my disability would need to be hidden so as not to raise suspicion.
There was nothing more to be done but make the journey and hope that everything I’d done thus far would be enough.
_____
We came out of my room, but instead of taking a right and heading down the corridor toward the domed room, we took a left. We headed up another corridor and took a flight of stairs to a door. Irina pushed down the handle and shoved it open. A soft breeze caressed my cheek and light stung my eyes, then we were spilling out onto a roof access with the furious storm raging above us.
“It’s alright, I have it warded. The storm won’t touch us,” she said.
I nodded and followed her further onto the roof, which was essentially a concrete expanse with no physical barrier against the tempest beyond.
Baal and Agares were already there, standing with their heads tipped back staring up into the swirling clouds.
“What are you looking for?”
The corner of Baal’s mouth lifted a fraction, but he didn’t take his eyes of the sky. “Watch.”
I lifted my chin and scanned the storm—the churning atmosphere of red and purple, orange, pink, and grey, illuminated by sharp fingers of electric blue. It was terrifyingly overwhelming, and then something burst from the maelstrom. I squinted to focus. A bubble of awe expanded in my chest as the picture became clear. A formation of five winged equine creatures, made up of a shifting swirl of aqua hues, galloped across the sky. Behind them, pulled by invisible reins, was a sleek silver carriage.
The creatures circled once, before descending smoothly until their hooves beat the cement in a symphony of clips and clops. The carriage hovered a moment before its wheels kissed ground. The creatures tucked their wings against their backs, tossed their leonine heads, and stamped their feet, mist billowing from their nostrils to disperse in the air. I took a step forward, my eyes fixed on the swirling, fluid, consistency of their bodies. It was almost as if they were composed entirely of water.
Baal took my elbow. “They don’t like being touched,” he warned.
“As a rule,” Irina said throwing him an arch look.
Agares leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Baal has a way of taming even the wildest hearts.”
I glanced across at him then back to Baal, who had moved to the head of the line-up and was casually petting one of the creatures.
“What are they?” I asked.
“Ceffyl Dwr, water horses,” Irina said. “Baal found Valor on the cliffs by his home. Her wing was badly hurt, and she was unable to fly or get to the sea. She wouldn’t be coaxed into his stables, so Baal stayed with her—up on the cliffs for days—offering her food and company until she healed. She came back months later with the others. I think they’re her children, but we can’t be sure. She’s served Baal ever since, and he’s the only one she’ll bow to.”
“Bow to?”
Agares chuckled. “See the size of those beasts?”
“Yeah, kinda hard to miss.”
“To ride one you’d have to get it to bow down.”
An image of Baal atop one of those majestic beasts came to mind, and gooseflesh dimpled my skin.
Agares moved toward the carriage and held open the door. “Your carriage awaits.”
He made a sweeping gesture, and Irina snorted. “Idiot.”
I climbed onto the plush leather and settled myself at the window seat. My stomach fluttered, not with anxiety about taking the throne, but with nerves about the role I was going to be playing as Baal’s sharmuta, and what that role would involve.
Baal slipped into the seat opposite me, his huge frame taking up space. His scent filled my head and the quiver in my abdomen grew.
Irina’s words ran through my mind. “You’ll be his sharmuta, you will belong to him.”
Was it terrible that I couldn’t wait to find out exactly what that entailed?
25
As we rose through the wards that Irina had placed above the roof I gripped my seat, expecting to feel the elements pressing down on us, expecting to feel the crash of the rain and the buffeting of the gale force winds.
Nothing happened.
“You should see your face,” Irina said.
Baal chuckled. “The carriage is protected by magick, enjoy the ride, Kenna.”
I stared out of the window at the churning shifting atmosphere, at the tufts of grey and white cloud that whooshed past as the Ceffyl Dwr galloped a frenzied trail through it. And then we were bursting free into the clear blue sky, the sun so bright I had to raise my hand to shield my eyes.
“How far is it?”
“With the Ceffyl Dwr driving us, a couple of hours at the most,” Baal said.
Two hours sitting opposite Baal. Two hours staring at his beautiful face. “Maybe we should play a game or something to pass the time?”
Irina snorted. “Or we could sing songs,” she said sarcastically.
Agares kicked her ankle. “I think a game is a good idea, what should we play?”
Irina sighed and raised her hand, running her thumb across the tips of her fingers, pinky to index. The air between us shimmered, and a table materialised covered in crimson velvet and holding a deck of cards and a pot of die.
Baal’s eyes lit up. “I haven’t played this in years!”
Agares sat up a little straighter, and even Irina lips twitched in a half smile.
I was the only one out of the loop. “What is it?”
“Only the best game ever.” Baal’s voice was infused with infectious boyish delight.
Agares picked up the cards and shuffled them in the fancy way magicians do. He shot me a wink. “Before I was the greatest general in the greatest army, I was a champion bluff player.”
“A champion fool more like,” Irina muttered.
Agares leaned back, hand on heart. “Baal, she strikes a mortal blow, I fear I may yet be undone.”
Baal met my ga
“Sure.” I was interested to see what the fuss was about.
“Deal the cards, my friend,” Baal said to Agares.
Four rounds of bluff later, and I’d come to the conclusion that I was either a terrible liar or Baal was somehow reading my mind, despite the broach I’d pinned to the inside waistband of my silk pants.
I threw down my cards. “I give up. I’m rubbish at this game.”
“You truly are,” Irina said. There were no pulling punches with that mage, and I liked it. I valued her honesty. In a world filled with backstabbing and two-faced people, it was nice to be around someone who refused to be anything other than who they were.
My stomach dipped. A glance out the window showed the clouds beneath the Ceffyl Dwr’s hooves thinning.
“We’re descending.” Baal leaned forward to look out the window so our heads were almost touching.
I inhaled him surreptitiously, taking a hit to the brain that left me a little dazed. The man was intoxicating. Below us the clouds dispersed to reveal smouldering black lands dotted with spots of glowing red.
It looked smouldering hot. “What is that?”
“Those are the cinder lands, the doorway to the pit from which the first djinn rose.”
“I thought Ibris was the first djinn, the efreet came from him, and the creator made the rest?”
“Yes. That is the belief, but Ibris spawned the efreet from the pit. The legend goes that he rose from the pit, bringing the crimson djinn with him.”
I recalled the moment when I’d taken the flame, the fire that had surrounded me, and the voice that had called me spawn. Had I somehow connected with the pit?
I was about to tell Baal about it when another dip distracted me. The vista below us changed. We were hoofing it silently across the sky, down toward a sprawling city of glittering silver and gold-domed buildings, tiny white washed dwellings, and in the centre of it all rose a monolith—a sky scraper that rose from the gold, silver, and white, to touch the sky in a blaze of iridescent crimson and obsidian.
“Is that palace?”
Baal nodded, strands of his indigo hair brushing my cheek. “Yes, that’s your home, Kenna.”
26
BRETT
His muted scream echoed throughout the torture chamber, bouncing off rock and slamming back into him leaving him breathless, whimpering, and wrecked.
His inflictor held up the toenail he’d just extracted and dropped it into a silver tray.
The torturer had done Brett’s fingernails first, one by one, leaving him bleeding and raw. Then they’d come back to work on his feet. He’d taken his time, stretched out the agony, and although Brett wished to be numb, although each time he thought he had a handle on the pain and it couldn’t possibly get any worse, his torturer proved him wrong.
Brett was a mess, and he hated himself for it.
His torturer, an expressionless Twilighter in a guard uniform turned his back on Brett and moved toward the door.
“If you’re going to kill me, best get it over with, because I’m not signing that treaty.”
The torturer paused, and for a moment Brett thought he would do just that, but then he was pulling open the heavy metal door and stepping out. The door clanged shut, bolt sliding into place with a scrape, and he was all alone.
It was a stupid thing to say because he didn’t want to die, the aim was to withstand the torture until help came, but it had been almost two days of nonstop pain. He couldn’t take any more.
He’d always believed he was strong, that pain was something to be overcome. He’d lost Danny and continued to breathe, hadn’t he? And that pain, the pain of his heart being ripped from his chest, was nothing compared to the slice of the scalpel or the burn of metal on his flesh.
But it was.
It so was. He wouldn’t be able to take it much longer.
Kenna, where are you?
Is this how she’d felt when he hadn’t been there? When she’d had to mutilate herself to survive? He’d thought about it every day—her strength of will and desperate desire to live. Kenna was strong, Kenna wouldn’t give up. She’d fight the pain.
He blinked away the moisture in his eyes and leaned his head back against the rock he was bolted to. The shackles that circled his wrists were too tight, the ones that gripped his ankles even more so. He couldn’t remember what sleep felt like.
How much more of this could he take before his survival instinct overrode his desire to do the right thing and he caved?
27
We landed on a runway that led to a reception courtyard, the entrance of which was two humungous pillars of rock engraved with a huge salamander. I knew they represented fire—Ibris’s symbol. Guards dressed in green and silver livery were poised on ladders unwrapping what looked like a tapestry. With a soft whoosh the tapestry unfurled, masking the salamander with the depiction of what looked like an artful mermaid.
I grabbed Baal’s arm “What are they doing? Why are they covering up the royal symbol?”
“Because Kai is an arrogant fool, secure in his belief that he will rule uncontested. The undine is his crest, as the salamander is yours.”
“And what’s your crest? I didn’t see it at your home.”
“A sylph.”
I had no idea what that was.
He smiled. “A small dark green and blue bird—a hummingbird I believe you would call it—with a forked tail. My army carries the crest in battle, so let’s hope you’re never forced to see it.”
I looked back to the rocks, to the tapestries that had covered my birth right, and allowed the anger to lick at my chest for a moment before staunching it with a deep exhalation.
“The Black Moon can’t come soon enough.”
_____
Decor details weren’t really my thing. Silk is silk, lace is lace, and pretty is pretty, but this place was a sensory assault. So many colours and fabrics, and god, the yummy head-spinning scents. And the palace itself, the skyscraper thingy we’d set down by, was made of glittering rock, crimson and obsidian melded together. I’d never seen anything like it.
The carriage had taken off, apparently Ceffyl Dwr didn’t do stables, no matter how stately. After a lot of bowing and pleasantries on the part of the palace staff, we were shown through the outer circumference of the palace to our guest rooms. It was slow going as at every step Baal was stopping to greet some djinn or other. I tried to pay attention to all the names, to all the faces, but by the time we reached our rooms it was all a colourful blur.
Agares and Irina were bunking together in the adjoining room—close by in case they were needed. Apparently it was common for guards to bunk together when in duty. Baal and I …well let’s just say there was a whole lot of room but only one bed.
My stomach flipped.
I stood staring at the bed for a long beat, and then tore my eyes away. We’d deal with the sleeping arrangements later, right now I was starving.
“Can we get some food?”
Baal unbuttoned his jacket and hung it on the back of a velvet covered chair. “Food is something you won’t have trouble finding at The Meet.” He rolled up his sleeve, exposing strong bronzed forearms. “There is a twenty-four-hour buffet set up in the ballroom if you can stomach all the attention. It may be a good time to get to know some of the more influential members of your court.”
I tore my gaze away from his sexy forearms—seriously, how could forearms be sexy?
I reached up to unbutton my travel cloak and slid it off my shoulders. “Fine, let’s get going, I could eat a bloody horse.”
Baal froze. His gaze fell to my chest before coming back up to meet mine.
I glanced down at the twins and sighed. “Obscene, isn’t it? Blame Irina, she insisted.”
Baal licked his lips. “No, she did very well.”
Did his voice sound a little strangled?
“You mean all the women wander around like this?”
“No. Not all women, just the sharmuta. They like to compete to see who is the most desirable.”
The last thing I cared about was being desirable … didn’t I? But my lips were moving and the words spilled out regardless. “Am I desirable?”
If I thought Baal had been still before, he was positively a statue now.
I kept my gaze locked with his, even though I my neck was on fire. Shit, now I’d asked, I really, really wanted to know the answer.
Baal’s jade gaze darkened to a midnight green, his lips parted as if on a soft sigh He took a step toward me, chest visibly rising and falling.
A sharp rap on the adjoining door to Irina and Agares’ room broke the spell.
With a final lingering look, Baal called out. “Come in.”
The door opened and Agares popped his head in. “Irina’s complaining of hunger pains.”
Baal smiled. His attention was on Agares but his words were for me. “Yes, we should all sate our hunger.” His focus shifted to me, still dark with desire. “Ask Irina to find a wrap for Kenna.”
Agares looked at me properly for the first time, blinked, and backed up. “Yes, good idea.” He retreated into his room.
Baal turned back to me. “And to answer your question, Kenna, I find you incredibly desirable. The next few days, in such close proximity, will be difficult, but I am a man of my word. I will maintain my distance.” His throat bobbed. “I made you a promise—to be your mentor and your guide in this new world. I do not give my word lightly.”
I wanted to take the final steps toward him, to wrap my arms around him and taste those luscious lips, to tell him that I didn’t want him to maintain a distance, but my gut tightened, holding me back, reminding me that my heart could not be trusted. My judgement in men had been flawed thus far, first Blane, then Erebus, and now Baal. I needed to be sure, and until my gut told me otherwise distance was good, no matter how hard it may be.
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