Running Wild

by Lucinda Betts

  “After the Festival of Madeeha, my sister retired to her personal palace for a period of deep meditation,” he said, telling her the propaganda his mother had concocted.

  “And I’m carrying your child,” she said, “seeded by your talented tongue and heat-seeking fingers.”

  “Believe what you want.” Then he flashed her a grin of his own. “Although I like to think my tongue is talented.”

  “Do you want to know where to find her or not? Perhaps you like risking your life to cover for her?”

  “I’ve no fear,” he said as she searched his face.

  Perhaps reading something there, she grinned, a feral expression that reminded him of a desert cat. “Perhaps you enjoy people underestimating your intellect while they sing praises of Queen Kalila,” she said. “Especially after she ran away, and you complete her duties?”

  “She did not run away.” Again this woman had hit too close to the truth with her sarcasm. Still, his bitterness would never provoke him to treason. Never.

  “I think,” she said, goading him, “you’d be happy if Kalila never returned.”

  The spitfire spoke subversion, but she was tied and at his mercy. “How do I find her? Where is she?”

  “She’s been kidnapped by Badr the Bad.”

  “The magician stole her? A man stole her?” Shaking his head, Tahir could hardly believe it. “That’s why the matriarchy castrate all but a handful of men—just to prevent violence like this.”

  The beauty at his mercy snorted. “I should have been more precise. She went willingly to Badr the Bad, who then prevented her return. He’s holding her captive.”

  “That she went willing to the magician is impossible to believe.” He tried to weigh this possibility for any grain of truth. “How would she even find him? Men such as he aren’t permitted in the Land of the Sun.”

  “‘Men such as he’,” his prisoner taunted. “You mean men with their own minds—and balls—intact.”

  “Under the reign of the queens, there’ve been no wars for seven generations. Every child is cared for, educated, and fed. Every adult has a meaningful position.”

  “Every girl child,” the beauty said.

  “Boys too.”

  “Only if castration falls under your definition of ‘cared for’.”

  “Look at the Land of the Moon,” he said. “Those men kill heedlessly. Blood soaks their sands. Women are treated as chattel. How does your society behave, judgmental one?”

  “My apologies, Prince Tahir,” she said with mock humility. “I didn’t get myself tied up in the bed by your capable hands to discuss politics. I came to tell you how to retrieve your sister.”

  “So tell me.”

  “Badr the Bad is looking for an assistant, and you fit his needs. Assist him for a month and day, and you can save your sister.”

  “Assist him?” Tahir tried—and failed—imagining his mother accepting this idea. “House Kulwanti will attack to return their queen to the throne. He’ll die in a puddle of blood.”

  “That would not be in your best interest.”

  “You seem to think my opinion matters.”

  The red-haired beauty smiled, making the corners of her violet eyes crinkle. “Don’t sell yourself short, Prince Tahir. I’ve seen your actions cause impressive results.”

  “But have you seen Queen Kulwanti?”

  “I know things. You’re substituting for Queen Kalila, unbeknownst to anyone. Did that idea originate with you—or your mother?”

  Of course he’d invented the plan. He heard her point but said nothing.

  “You wield more power than you realize, and as soon as you embrace that truth, your world will change for the better.”

  “You speak in riddles, woman.”

  “You force me to speak when I’d rather fuck.”

  “And give you a child to leverage against House Kulwanti?” he asked. “I think not.”

  “And you say you wield no power. You wield it now.”

  “Many people have power between their thighs,” he said. “As I’m sure you know.”

  “Your skills are wasted here, Prince Tahir.”

  He ran his hand through his hair, unwilling to hear such enticing treason. “Where’s my sister?”

  She shrugged in her yellow binds, the tassels dangling near her elegant wrists. “You can find Badr the Bad in the Cavern of the Sixty Thieves,” she said.

  “Tell him to expect my mother’s army,” he said, reaching to release her. He’d send one of the Warqueen spies to track her to the magician’s nest. “The Warqueen Abbesses are a sight to behold, a match even for the soldiers in the Land of the Moon.”

  “I’ll tell him as you wish.” The red-haired woman chuckled and snapped her fingers, filling the chamber with gray smoke.

  With a curse, he lunged for her ankle, but his hand met only silk sheet.

  The red-haired beauty had vanished, leaving only the lingering scent of gardenias in the haze.

  3

  Tahir let Kateb gallop west, toward the Cavern of Sixty Thieves, toward the magician who had his sister. He’d defied his mother, but that was the price he had to pay for running off Kalila and losing the fake Lady Casmiri. His short service to Badr could restore House Kulwanti’s queen and stop the shitani. He owed it to his land.

  As they galloped, Tahir noticed a thick scent of gardenias, which made no sense—water wasn’t available for leagues. Why would desert air smell like a succulent tree?

  A piercing cry speared the dusk air. Kateb stopped in his tracks. Snorting through dilated nostrils, his short neck vibrated with tension. Tahir pulled a dagger from its sheath as he scanned the dunes.

  Shitani, he thought. The demons must have awakened—as predicted by the auguries. Did he have even the promised month and a day?

  Again a shriek filled the air, only to be cut off mid-cry. This time Tahir recognized it. It wasn’t a shitani—it was a woman. Kalila.

  Silently dismounting, he palmed a second dagger. The gardenia scent was thicker here, cloying. Tahir looked down the escarpment. Below, a shitani lurked over a captured woman, and the creature looked just like the ancient drawings in his mother’s library.

  Who was the victim? Tahir squinted in the fading light. Not my sister, he prayed to the Sun Goddess. Please, not my sister.

  He couldn’t see the woman at first. All angular, bony, and green, the shitani stood in his way as it wrapped its unnatural tongue around the woman’s breast. Everywhere the creature’s tongue lapped, her flesh disappeared—just as described in the ancient texts. Her entire left leg was gone, although the rope that had held her ankle to the stake remained taut. Her right breast, lush and dark, was vanishing as he watched.

  The woman was not his sister. This woman had skin the color of amber. Kalila was darker, and she didn’t have a purple gemstone winking from her belly button. At least, she hadn’t last time he’d seen her.

  The creature moved down the woman, burying its head between her legs. The woman opened her eyes, and her honey-colored gaze met his.

  Tahir snapped. He’d never seen eyes of this color. This was the woman from the augury.

  He leaped, daggers extended, and he landed atop the demon, which collapsed beneath him with an angry squeal. He didn’t think—he acted, grabbing the thing’s chin, pulling it taut, and slicing the length of its neck. Hot blood poured into the desert sand as the body quivered in death throes. The earthy scent of copper momentarily overpowered the flowery perfume.

  The dark-haired woman began bucking against her ties, her gold-tipped braids flailing. Tahir threw the shitani corpse to the ground, rushing to cut her binds.

  “No!” she cried. He realized that the gardenia scent came from her. “Wipe the saliva from me first. Please!”

  Tahir looked at her, wondering if she’d lost her mind, but she pointed to her left with her chin. “Use that.”

  He picked up the implement. It reminded him of the tools grooms used on horses to scrape them dry af
ter they’d bathed them.

  “Wipe the saliva off me before it dries, or I’ll waste the tiny bit of spit I managed to collect for all this effort.”

  He began by scraping her invisible toe. The demon saliva was unlike any he’d seen. It had the consistency of olive oil and a deep, rich fragrance—gardenia. Her toe, then her foot became visible as the spit came off, thick and viscous. It accumulated in the groove of the scraper, and he started to shake it clean.

  “Don’t throw that away,” she said, her tone exasperated. “There’s an amphora over there. You need to collect it.”

  But as he picked up the clay jar and carefully let the oily liquid into it, he realized he hadn’t saved her—he’d interrupted her.

  “You meant to do this, didn’t you?” he asked. “You came here to collect shitani spit. Why do you want to be invisible?”

  She didn’t answer as he slid the scraper over her thigh, making it reappear in its glorious perfection. The warm muscle begged to be caressed, and she actually trembled as his fingertips accidentally touched flesh.

  “Who was going to scrape you clean?” he asked, letting the saliva drip into the jar. Her flesh felt warm in his palm, alive and toned.

  “Badr the Magician.”

  “Where is he?”

  “You must have frightened him off.”

  Only then did he realize he recognized her voice—the red-haired beauty who’d tried to get him to fuck her, the fraudulent Lady Casmiri.

  “You,” he growled.

  “Who else?”

  “What game are you playing?” Tahir stood, letting the scraper drop to the sand. “A heartbeat ago, you were dark skinned with tanzanite in your belly button. Your hair was black and braided with gold tips. Your eyes were gold, not purple. You were…beautiful.”

  She looked at him from behind lidded eyes and said, “You don’t like red hair and white skin?”

  “You didn’t have red hair when the demon ran its tongue over you.”

  “Are you certain?” she asked, her voice sly. “Could you see in the odd light?”

  “I saw your hair perfectly. It was black and braided. It’s neither now.”

  She shrugged, an elegant gesture he recognized from the Casmiri Impregnation chamber. It didn’t inspire rational thought. In fact, he wanted to fuck her. Which was exactly why the matriarchy castrated most men. Reining in his lust, he looked at her, running his hand through his hair. “I could walk away and leave you to the snakes, one of which probably spawned you.”

  “I’m a pawn in all of this, too.” She sighed. “Please, don’t let the demon saliva dry on me.”

  “Why shouldn’t I?” he demanded. “You liked the creature’s tongue rolling over you.”

  “Jealous?” she shot back. “Either scrape me clean or let me do it myself, although more of the spit gets wasted that way.”

  He would have liked to walk away, leave her to her own misguided plan, but the sight of her with her breast missing unnerved him, and he couldn’t leave her tied in the desert, waiting for a magician who may or may not appear. Tahir picked up the scraper and began to clean off her thigh again.

  “That was the first demon,” she said. “They’ll come more often now, and in greater numbers.”

  “Are you certain that was a shitani?” he asked, cleaning her neck. “They’ve slept for so many generations, perhaps it’s just some desert monster.”

  “Green skinned, pointy eared, and orange eyed? It was shitani.”

  “But how do you know that?”

  She paused while he scraped the spit off her cheek. “Nothing else has spit that makes you invisible, does it?”

  Her logic was flawless. The scent of her desire filled his nose, as it had in her supposed chambers. “You’re still ovulating.”

  “That’s what attracts the shitani—ovulating women.”

  He knew the feeling.

  He knew the feeling, but he didn’t want this redhead. He didn’t trust her, didn’t know her agenda. And even as he scraped the spit off her small breast, revealing another miracle of perfection, he craved the lush, dark woman he’d seen while this one had been in the demon’s thrall. In his mind, he saw the other woman’s honeyed gaze, and he craved that, too.

  Although why that should be true, he had no idea.

  “The shitani are searching for a new human to rule them. The scent of ovulation and competence makes them seek a queen; the scent of masculine competence makes them crave a king. Either would do.”

  “They think you’re their queen then.” He kicked the cat-sized corpse. “It was certainly worshipping you.”

  “If I were the queen, there’d be more shitani in this desert than there are hairs on your horse.” She shook her head and looked at him speculatively, almost as if she were testing him. “But perhaps you’re their new king?”

  He snorted in disbelief. “Where I come from, men do not rule.”

  “Tell the shitani that.”

  “As you command, oh Queen of the Shitani.” He gave her a mocking bow, curving the scraper through the air with a flourish. But she didn’t acknowledge the humor.

  “I’m not their queen, and woe to the woman who is.”

  An image of honeyed eyes flashed before him again, but he said nothing. He’d caught only a glimpse of her lips, full and kissable, and he wished he could see them again. “I’m almost finished.” He dripped the last of the saliva into the amphora, closed it with its stopper, and put it in his pocket.

  “That’s my jar,” she said.

  “I think I’ll keep it. Who knows when I’ll need to become invisible.”

  “As you wish,” she said. He would’ve been angry if he’d been her, but instead resignation crossed her face. And then he saw that sly look again. He couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d expected him to keep the amphora, that she’d arranged for him to take it. “Untie me, at least,” she added.

  He looked down at her and saw that she was once again completely visible. She was also beautiful and ovulating, and the Impregnator in him found her difficult to ignore. “You like being tied at my feet.”

  “And you keep resisting me.” She managed to look coy, tied in the sand and just wiped clean of demon spit. “But I can be very, very nice, you know.”

  “I can imagine.” He flicked his dagger over the rope tying her wrists to the stake and freed her arm. “It’s your mouth that stops me. And your cunt. I won’t be a traitor to my House.”

  “Your House doesn’t appreciate you.”

  “Let Badr father your child.”

  She choked out a laugh as she stood, and Tahir saw her point. If the magician fled at his arrival, he wasn’t a very brave man. “I left my clothes here,” she said, striding toward a rocky outcropping. “Let me dress, then we can go to the Cavern of Sixty Thieves.” She stopped midstride, apparently unbothered by her nakedness. “I take it you’re here to serve as the magician’s assistant? You wish to be his for a month and a day?”

  “That is the price. House Kulwanti needs Queen Kalila restored.”

  The red-haired woman shrugged into her robe. “And what if she doesn’t want to return?”

  “Our augury read the bones. If Queen Kalila isn’t returned, the Land of the Sun will fall to the shitani.”

  “And you think she’ll care?”

  Tahir was losing patience with this woman. He whistled for his horse, and when the seasoned stallion approached, he leaped on his back. “Would you like a ride?”

  When she accepted his offer, he wasn’t surprised she pressed her breasts against his back or ran her hands too high up his thighs. What surprised him was that the image of the dark-skinned woman with the amber eyes kept haunting him.

  “Who was she?” he asked, gently pushing her hand from his cock. “The woman with the braids.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

  “You do.”

  “Go west around those rocks, and we’ll find the Cavern of Sixty Thieves.”
/>
  Tahir refused to be distracted. “When the shitani was licking you, your form shifted. Into another woman.”

  She laughed. “Would you be more willing to lay with me if I looked more like her?”

  Tahir didn’t answer. He was the Impregnator. He could service the ugliest woman alive if need be. But something about the dark-haired woman haunted him…. Something in her amber eyes.

  “Here’s the cave,” she said, jumping off. “Go in. I expect Badr will be waiting for you.”

  “You won’t accompany me?”

  “I don’t have to.”

  “Why not?”

  “Are you certain you’ll serve the magician for a month and a day?”

  An image of his sister flashed through his mind. “I’m certain,” he said.

  “Then you’ll replace me.” She laughed. “I’m free!”

  He thought he saw a lie behind her eye, something that warned against this course of action.

  But as her gleeful words sizzled through his mind, he felt something shift, like something in his mind had been shackled, and for the first time since he’d agreed to this quest, fear snaked through his veins.

  His mind was no longer completely his own.

  A good daughter would have remained silent throughout the entire moon salutation on the second day of her wedding ceremony, but Princess Shahrazad was no longer a good daughter—she was a desperate one.

  And she was a daughter who saw the magician arrive. With flashing wings, a golden pegaz soared over the Amr Mountains, ridden by someone in a black robe.

  “Father.” As her voice floated over the silent wedding party, the klerin froze. She felt the women next to her still, waiting for the terrible repercussion.

  “I’m beginning to loathe you, Princess Shahrazad,” her mother-in-law-to-be whispered. “Must you ruin every ceremony?”

  But Princess Shahrazad refused to be daunted. She gestured to the approaching pegaz. “Look!” she commanded. If her father and her husband-to-be couldn’t help her fight this evil, no one could.