In the rising light, she saw several blades of grass ripple, and Tahir swung his sword near her feet.
The grass erupted in blood, and the red fluid coated the invisible creature, which lay still, apparently dead.
“What was that?” she asked, looking at its distorted features. Its ears were too big, its neck too small.
Prince Tahir nodded at a second body. “There were two of them. Shitani.”
Trying to control her breathing, still ragged from fear and exertion, she asked, “Are they dead?”
“They—”
But another demonic screech emanated from the palm tree, and Shahrazad felt the air whip past her face. She screamed and jumped, but the shitani landed on her head and grabbed her ears. She felt something hot and wet lap her neck, and revulsion made her throw herself to the ground to try to rub the demon from her body.
“Stop,” Tahir shouted to her. “Still yourself.”
But she couldn’t obey. Dreadful fingers carressed her neck and the tops of her ears. Frantically, she grabbed for the thing, wanting it off her now. Now! She swung wildly.
Finally she knocked it askew. She felt it hanging onto her braids, swinging like some crazed monkey. “Get it off me!” she screamed, beating her braids. “Please!”
And he did, swinging his closed fist through her hair. The creature hit the ground with a thud, and a second thud followed it.
Tahir raced to where they’d heard the thing hit and began slicing the ground with his sword, using it like a peasant hoeing the dirt.
Just as its death-scream filled the morning air, Shahrazad spied the thing it’d been carrying. “That’s my father’s turb—” she started to say, but the rising sun cut off her words.
The change was upon her. For a moment, a haze of glittering silver light prevented her from seeing anything, and the sexual tingle coursing through her body to her very core left her helpless. She could do nothing more than register the enchantment licking the veins in her wrists, behind her ears, through her breasts.
She regained herself only to find those wrists, ears, and breasts changed. “Tahir,” she tried to say, but the word came out as a nicker. When she drew in a breath to try again, she smelled something underlying that cloying gardenia scent—something both warm and reptilian.
Shitani.
We are shitani, she heard in her head. And you will love us. We’ve told our queen we will love you.
Ignoring the horror of those words, her equine eyes registered nothing. But she smelled at least three demons in the tree. Where was Prince Tahir? She blinked, trying to accustom herself to the strange black-and-white vision, and then she saw him, bending over her father’s turban…just as the shitani launched itself from the palm tree toward the prince.
Panic surged through her. If they had her father’s turban, he must be besieged! Her palace. Her land.
She squealed and leaped toward Prince Tahir, turf tearing beneath her feet as she did. He looked at her just as she heard a demon land on him. With a speed worthy of a snake, he swatted the thing from his back, and she jumped on it, crushing it beneath her hoofs.
Prince Tahir wasted no time. Turban in hand, he jumped in her saddle and collected the reins. “The cloak. We must retrieve it.” Understanding, she galloped the ten paces to her makeshift bed. He leaned precariously over her side, snagging the cloth on the first try.
“Now, fly!” he commanded. “Far away from here!”
But he’d wasted his breath because she’d already launched herself into the sky. As she soared over the palm tree, she heard three more shitani gnashing their teeth.
Don’t leave us, she heard. Come back to us.
Somehow she knew the shitani were speaking in her head. She’d been marked, brought to their attention. And it all came back to Badr the Bad: he’d touched her back, he’d turned her into a pegaz, and now demons were speaking in her mind.
She had never killed a human in her life, but she would kill that magician now if she had the chance. And she would not let him or any other man ruin her alliance with the Raj ir Adham.
In a rage, she circled back toward the tree, locking onto their scent. As she flew past the trio of demons, she lashed out her head and grabbed one with her teeth.
My queen, it cried in her mind. I’ve longed for you, my queen.
She crushed its skull between her teeth and tossed it to the grass below, without mercy, ignoring the taste of blood and brains. Ruthlessly, she circled its corpse to ensure it was dead. It was.
“Are there more?” Prince Tahir asked.
She nickered and he understood.
“Fly by that tree again, and I’ll try for another,” Prince Tahir said.
Banking with her left wing, Shahrazad turned, thrilling in the speed and power of her new form. Her wings swooped through the air, covering a mighty distance. The cool breeze caressed her mane, sending it fluttering over her withers.
On her back, Prince Tahir swung blindly at a cluster of dates in the tree, but her nose had no trouble finding a demon. Again, she grabbed one between her teeth and crushed it. The satisfying taste of success overrode the coppery tang of blood on her tongue.
Prince Tahir’s sword snagged a third demon, knocking it to a lower branch. Bathed in blood, she could see the thing, and she watched it gnash its sharp teeth. Shahrazad whipped her wings through the morning air to turn. Tahir skewered it on their third flight past the tree with a mighty slash of his sword.
Her nose told her they were all dead, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
“Did we kill all of them?” Prince Tahir asked.
Again, she nickered. She had to return home. It had taken a full day to reach this oasis, and it would take that long to fly back home, but if the demons were overrunning the palace, her father would need help. And she could help, she realized. No longer the helpless girl she’d been yesterday, she could crush and stomp. She could kill the demons. Thrilling power coursed through her veins. She’d never imagined physical strength would satisfy her.
She flew south, toward her home, without Prince Tahir’s leave.
“Did I hear you say that this turban belonged to your father?” Prince Tahir asked. He rode her well, not disrupting her balance at all, not even when he spoke.
She nickered, hoping he would take that as an affirmative. That dazzling ruby set in the center of a sea of spotless white silk could only belong to the Sultan.
“Have they attacked your palace?” Prince Tahir asked. “This isn’t a promising sign.”
Agreeing, she extended her neck and poured all her strength into her wings, flying as fast as she could. Perhaps her ability to fly had improved with yesterday’s practice. Perhaps she’d arrive home in time to aid her father. The mountains beneath her seemed as vast and endless as the dunes.
“Slow down, Princess,” Prince Tahir called. But he didn’t rein her in, and his seat remained sure. “There’s a note in here,” he explained. “It’s pinned inside a fold, but I can’t read it with all this wind.”
Reluctantly Shahrazad tilted her wings inward, letting the wind beat against them, slowing them. But before she plummeted to the ground like a rock, she extended her wings, stretching the golden feathers as far as they could go. The tickle in her stomach delighted her as they glided like birds through the desert sky. She’d never imagined such joy, not even when she galloped her father’s fastest stallion across the sands.
“I’m going to read this now,” Prince Tahir said, and she bobbed her head, letting him know she was listening.
She snorted again impatiently. What did it say?
She heard the unfolding of paper as she banked her wings again and let the breeze float quietly over them. “The note says: Daughter, you have spent the night alone, unchaperoned. If you come home, I will behead you. I have no choice. Perhaps you should seek the refuge of Badr the Bad who lives in the Cavern of the Sixty Thieves in the easternmost segment of the Amr Mountains.” Prince Tahir paused, and she felt him shake hi
s head. “There’s a signature beneath it,” he continued, “which I assume belongs to your father.”
For a moment, she wondered if the demons had done something to her. She couldn’t breathe. Fire raced through her veins. How were her wings transporting them?
Her home had just been forbidden to her. She’d never see her father again…or her nieces or her nephews, or her brothers and sisters. She’d never enjoy Duha’s warm embrace. She’d never—
“I’m sorry,” Prince Tahir said, weaving his fingers through her mane. “I’m very sorry.”
But suddenly, she didn’t believe the note. The Sultan wouldn’t behead her. He couldn’t. He loved her, and even if he didn’t, he needed the Raj if he were going to put any force together whatsoever. Besides, would he really have given the note to the demons to deliver?
She snorted and shook her equine head. So what did the note mean? Was the magician trying to trick her into polluting herself? Was her father trying to save her from some danger within the palace walls? Had someone else altogether sent this insidious message?
Suddenly this seemed very much like the magician’s brand of ilk. But there was only one way to find out.
She was going home. Now.
With a deliberate swoop of her wings, she continued over the mountain range, thrilled with the sense of freedom and power her new wings gave her. But as the sun rose to its peak and began to slide down again, she realized her liberty was simply an illusion. She could no more fly away from this situation than she could turn herself into a cactus.
“We should land within walking distance of your palace,” Prince Tahir said once the air cooled around them. “If the soldiers see us flying above them, they might shoot us.”
She looked at the sun. If she landed now, they could walk, reaching her home just at sunset—just as she regained her true form. She adjusted her wings and headed toward the ground.
The sand grabbed her ankles as she landed, threatening to trip her, but her powerful legs prevailed. Cantering through the shifting sands in equine form was so much easier than running in human form.
Prince Tahir slid off immediately as she stopped. With the magician’s cape billowing around his neck he took several steps away from her, presumably so he wouldn’t accidentally touch her. That he continued to honor her wishes even after reading the note from her father made her soften toward him just a shade more.
Within heartbeats, the flesh of her ankles began to tingle, and she now recognized this as the sensation of her transformation. Standing still as the mountains behind them, magic tendrils wrapped around her feet and curled up her legs. Fetlocks, stifles, and gaskins became calves, thighs, and hips.
She opened herself to the flow of the energy swirling around her. The nerves in her breasts and at her wrists hummed in pleasure, leaving her weak with desire. The heady sensation spread throughout her being. Her thighs ached; her hips loosened. The length of her neck craved a lover’s hot kiss. Her knees actually shook with the lust rushing her veins.
As the enchantment swirled around her, she caught a glimpse of Prince Tahir. His dark eyes were locked upon her, and what she saw in his expression made her heart throb. Magic wrapped around her breasts and made her nipples tingle. His desire for her, his lust, radiated from his gaze.
But her pleasure was short lived. Come to me, she heard a distant shitani call. But as her hooves vanished, the cackled words faded. Come to me…
Her mane gave way to hair, and she became fully human. As the transformation completed itself, the sun’s orb now completely below the horizon, Tahir looked away, giving her what privacy he could offer on these open dunes.
“Sand,” Tahir said, looking at a mogul near her. “I hope you’re listening. I’d rather speak with that smoldering princess in the purple silk, but alas, I am not permitted.”
The way he addressed the sand struck her as flirtatious. After all, they’d spoken directly in the heat of battle. Now, Shahrazad shook her head, holding back a laugh that surprised her. Did he really think she was smoldering? She hooked her veil closed to hide her smile.
“If I were permitted to speak to the lovely Princess Shahrazad, I’d ask if she knew where her father’s men would be holding Badr the Bad. If she knew, maybe she’d throw a handful of you, Sand—hopefully not at me.”
Even knowing she’d already broken all the rules, even knowing she could use her voice, Shahrazad couldn’t resist this new game. She picked up some sand and tossed it. She aimed at his feet, but somehow the well-defined muscles of his thighs caught her attention, and the tiny pebbles went high—too high.
“Sand!” he said in mock pain. “How have I offended you? Why do you dance in my eyes and make me cry?” He wiped his face. “No, I apologize. It is not you that brings tears to my eyes; it’s the sight of this dark-haired beauty with whom I’m forbidden to speak, certainly forbidden to touch.”
She flashed a quick glance at him. The strength of his profile nearly wiped away the fear generated by her father’s purported note, her dread of remaining unwed. The aquiline curve of his nose, the defined planes of his cheeks…they perfectly suited his lanky form. He seemed very centered, like he could handle anything that came his way.
“I wish you’d tell Prince Tahir that political prisoners are generally held within the north wing on the top floor. I wish you’d tell him that he cannot enter the main gate with me, or my name will be ruined. They will behead me.” Of course, her name might be ruined anyway.
“Please tell Princess Shahrazad that I’d never jeopardize her. I will accompany her, but no one will see me.”
How would that be possible? she wondered. But then again he had the magician’s cape. And the shitani themselves had been invisible. Anything seemed possible.
“I am certain,” he said, rubbing his temples, “that the magician is alive—and in your palace. It is almost as if he summons me.”
Something about those words struck her as familiar. “When I am in pegaz form, I believe I hear shitani voices in my head.”
“Seems like similar magic,” Prince Tahir noted.
The last of the sun’s rays were nearly gone, she noted as they walked in silence, and they still had a third of a league to go. As if reading her mind, Prince Tahir pulled a lantern from the cape, already lit. A huge moon rose over the horizon, adding its golden light to theirs.
She stepped forward, toward the walls of her home. What would she find there? Demons in the throne room? Her Duha’s eviscerated body? Would the Sultan still be alive—and ruling? The shifting sand grabbed her feet, and she stumbled to her hands and knees.
Prince Tahir rushed to her side, probably to help her, but she stopped him, holding up her palm. As she stood, she found she’d discovered something new about herself. She didn’t care if her fate were written on the moon above them and in the sand below. She didn’t care if every augury between here and the place where the desert gave way to jungles said her fate was doomed; she didn’t care if demons swarmed her home. She would fight it. She would save her land at all costs.
And she would let no man touch her—not even this delicious, powerful, delightful man with the aquiline nose. The augury had warned against it, and she wouldn’t gamble the land that depended on her father—and her.
“Sand,” Prince Tahir’s voice interrupted her dark thoughts. “Please ask the princess to wait a moment.”
Shahrazad stopped as he fumbled not with the magician’s cloak but with something in the pocket of his riding breeches.
“I would like to tell the princess I have a bottle of demon saliva that will render me invisible. Would you be so kind as to whisper that in her ear?”
As the full moon rose higher in the night sky a shiver went through her. His words held an intimacy she’d never heard. Forget the disturbing notion of using demon saliva, the way he spoke to her made her skin vibrate with anticipation.
“Would you please ask the princess to turn away from me? I must rub this strange potion over my bare sk
in for it to work.” Then his voice took a roguish tenor, and he said, “Unless it pleases her to see me without clothing…”
She quickly turned away from him, but she couldn’t help imagine how his dark skin would shine in the desert moon, how the moonbeams would play over the muscle of his chest and arms, over his thighs. Embarrassment and maybe even shame made her stand motionless in the moonlit sand, but it had an unfortunate effect—she could hear the sound of him undressing. She listened as buttons left holes and couldn’t help but wonder which holes they’d left. She heard the sound of cloth kissing sand and couldn’t help but wonder which part of his body now gleamed in the night.
“Would you please tell the princess that I’m finished,” he finally said. “Naked, but invisible.”
With her heart pounding, her mouth dry, Shahrazad turned and looked. A strange brown spot floated in the air where he should have been standing. Thick gardenia scent filled the night air, and she realized that this was how the demons had done it. They’d covered themselves in their own flower-scented saliva and become invisible.
“Is the prince supposed to be invisible?” Her voice sounded faint and breathless, at least to her.
“I am.” She heard alarm in his voice, and the strange brown spot twisted as the sand beneath his feet churned. “The princess cannot see me, can she?”
“Please tell him he’s missed a small spot. Perhaps in the middle of his back?”
“Let her know I thank her.” A small brown jar floated from his pile of clothing sitting in the sand. It turned upside down and jumped. She understood then that he was emptying out the last of the oil.
“I can’t—” She heard his voice strain. “I can’t reach this spot.” He paused a moment, then said, “Can the princess still see me?”
“Yes.”
Silence filled the desert night as he paused. But then the jar soundlessly floated over to her and floated above her palm. She understood. To save herself and her land, she and Prince Tahir needed to find the magician. That task would be made easier with his invisibility.
Running Wild Page 7
