“Powers above and powers below,
amend the curse that I made before.
My curse may be broken with love’s sacrifice,
but only if my palace is as cold as ice.”
Annelise buried her face in Rolfe’s fur, her arms flung around his neck. “You cannot change the curse,” she dared to say. “That is not fair!”
The djinn laughed. “And when has the world been fair?” She leaned close, smiling so that Annelise saw all her sharpened brass teeth. “I like it warm in the garden.” Her eyes shone with malice. “Always, always warm.” Then she dropped her voice to a whisper.
“Lest this mortal plan for my defeat
Let him truly become a beast.”
“No!” Annelise cried, but the djinn picked her up, forcibly pulling her away from Rolfe. Annelise screamed in protest but the djinn only laughed.
Then she flung Annelise into the gardens of the palace.
The gates shut with a heavy thump, sealing Annelise on the inside and Rolfe on the outside. She heard him howl in frustration, even as she leaped to her feet and ran to the gates. She ran her hands over the portal. “Open,” she commanded firmly, hoping they would obey her.
The doors shuddered, though, and did not open. Annelise had the sense that they struggled between two conflicting commands. Rolfe had given Annelise permission to command them, but she guessed that the djinn had made an order of her own. Annelise watched the gates shudder. She thought they might swing inward or even shatter. They fairly bowed with the force bent upon them.
Abruptly, they stilled, leaving her barricaded inside.
The wolves howled of prey in the forest.
A man.
A horse.
Not a company of six horses, but one rider alone.
Rolfe guessed who it might be.
Once Annelise was safely within the palace again and the djinn had vanished, he raced toward the other wolves. He smelled the fear of a horse and the trepidation of a man. He smelled mail and steel and leather and horse dung. He heard a man shout and the barking of the wolves. By the time he reached the pack, they were trotting after the horse. The destrier whinnied and stamped, tossing his head, more concerned with looking back than forward.
The knight in the saddle was garbed in green and silver.
It was Enguerrand, and that he lingered so far behind his company of men could only mean that he had witnessed events at the palace gates.
He knew all of the truth.
Rolfe had no doubt this fiend would use that knowledge against him, use it to make Annelise a widow. He snarled in fury, feeling the raw power of the wolf inside him. Previously, he had been a man in a wolf’s skin, but on this day, thanks to the djinn’s intervention, he became of the wolf’s nature. There was evidence of the change in the manner of the other wolves: instead of easing away from him, clearly sensing that he was different, they welcomed him into the pack. He surged to the lead of the group, snarling and snapping at those who might have fought his ascendancy, and they ceded to him.
He was directly behind Enguerrand.
It was time this knight rode away.
Rolfe barked and snarled, leaping after the horse. Although he had no plan to do it injury, the wolf within was hungry and smelled blood. He snapped closer to the horse’s hooves than had been his plan and the destrier bolted. It ignored Enguerrand’s attempts to rein it in and raced forward at full speed.
The wolf within roared that the chase was on and leaped in pursuit, teeth bared. The other wolves fell back as the horse galloped through the forest, Rolfe fast behind. Enguerrand was frightened and Rolfe savored the smell of his fear. It gave the wolf more strength to make another leap for the saddle. Enguerrand swore and pulled his dagger. He made to stab at Rolfe, then froze as he stared into Rolfe’s eyes. He paled. Rolfe bared his teeth again, and Enguerrand gave the destrier his spurs.
Rolfe cut through the forest when the path bent and he leaped suddenly in the air, knowing he would abruptly appear at Enguerrand’s side. The destrier shied and Enguerrand swore again, struggling to remain in the saddle. He threw his dagger at Rolfe, his features contorted in fury, but his aim was poor. The blade sank into the trunk of a tree and Rolfe once again trotted behind the terrified destrier.
He smelled the rest of Enguerrand’s company ahead and knew he could not battle six and survive. He fell back, letting the other wolves gather around him, and knew their eyes glowed as they watched the departing knight.
“I will be back, Rolfe de Viandin!” Enguerrand shouted, his courage returned now that he was safe. “I will be back and you will regret your deed.”
Rolfe tipped his head back and howled, the wolf within reveling in the sound of the other wolves adding their voices to his. He found his fellows watching him, considering him, deciding what to do about him, and left the pack to review his own choices.
If the wolf within gained ascendancy, would he injure Annelise?
Would he forget her?
Would she forget him?
The book.
Once it was clear that Annelise was trapped alone in the palace, she hunted the book. It was the only reference she had for djinns and their ways. Perhaps there was more to be gleaned from that tale than she had realized. Perhaps there was more to the book than she had seen.
She did not like this new spell at all. Would Rolfe even be able to enter the palace at night? Would he change to a man but be left naked in the forest? How quickly would he become a wolf in truth? What could she do to assist him?
Every puzzle has a key.
The book was in the chamber where Enguerrand and his men had eaten. The tables were cleared and all returned to order, the book reposing alone in the middle of the room. Annelise was reminded of the most ornate Bible in the convent, the one that was kept in a place of honor and only touched by the mother superior.
She opened the book and was confounded by the sight of that foreign script.
Remembering her husband’s feat, she tentatively touched the letters with her fingertips. For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the letters shimmered as they had once before, and she could read it.
Thrilled that some matters showed consistency, Annelise read the tale again from start to finish. She could discern nothing in it that was helpful, though. Had she met Leila? It was possible, for the djinn seemed to have a similar attitude. Leila had built a palace and she had been spurned by a mortal man.
That still did not give Annelise any idea of what to do.
A meal had appeared for her while she was reading. She ate a bit of it, although she had little appetite, then returned to the book. What had she missed? Annelise was so deep in thought that when she heard a throat being cleared, she jumped in shock. She spun around only to find a short, plump woman sitting on the opposite side of the chamber.
“Greetings!” The woman waved at Annelise, as if her presence was unsurprising.
Annelise blinked, but the woman did not disappear.
Her kirtle and cloak were commonplace enough, but she wore the most peculiar fur hat Annelise had ever seen. Annelise could not have easily guessed her age.
“Who are you?” Annelise asked.
“I might ask the same of you.” The woman laughed and wandered around the chamber, as if she had never visited before. She peeked into the bed chamber. “Oh, that is a fine addition,” she mused. “There is nothing like a great bed.”
“Have you been here before?” Annelise asked.
“Not for a very long time.”
Annelise noticed a faint rosy cloud hovering around her companion and kept her distance. “Are you that djinn again?” she dared to ask. “Or another one altogether?”
The woman grimaced. “Not much of an ambassador for our kind, is she?”
Her expression made Annelise suspect that they shared the same opinion about the djinn, but Annelise was determined to be careful.
“Her?” she echoed.
“Yes, her. The trou
blemaker herself.” The woman sighed. “There was a time when I had wondrous dreams for her and what she might become.” She shook her head then smiled at Annelise. She waved a hand at their surroundings. “You must realize that this is her palace?”
“And that she cursed Rolfe.”
“Oh!” The woman’s eyes lit with delight. “You know Rolfe? He is, of course, mortal, but all the same he has a certain charm. Do you agree?”
“Yes.” Annelise felt herself liking this other djinn. “He is my husband.”
“Truly?” At Annelise’s nod, the djinn spoke eagerly. “Oh, that is fine luck, indeed. I had never imagined be would make such progress in such short order. He looked quite grim at the prospect of marriage.”
“What manner of progress do you mean?”
“Progress against the curse, of course, my child!” The djinn shook her head, making the little red balls along the perimeter of her hat sway. “You must know about the curse—after all, you wed the man. Did he not tell you?”
“Of course,” Annelise acknowledged. If she were prudent, this talkative djinn might tell her more about how to abolish the curse.
“I hope he mentioned that I—in a markedly fine spell created entirely on impulse, one that amazes me to this day with its adept little rhyme—mitigated the curse set upon him so that he was only burdened to be a wolf by day. And look at you—you are a fine enough looking woman! What fortune that man has!”
“He has many blessings to count, indeed,” Annelise commented, her tone wry.
The djinn drew herself up taller. “When dealing with our kind, a sharp tongue is markedly less than an asset, though I am surprised to have to remind you of that. Your husband would not find himself in this situation had he been a little less quick to express his skepticism.”
Annelise was not certain that was true so held her tongue.
“You know, he was less than impressed that I could not remove the curse entirely. How anyone could expect that I truly do not know. I thought I did rather well, under duress.” The djinn grimaced. “It was no pleasure to be cloistered with her all these centuries.”
Was this Azima, the mother of the wicked djinn? Or was the confinement in the bottle a common fate for djinns? Annelise did not know.
“I can imagine it would not be,” she said with sympathy.
The djinn met Annelise’s gaze and smiled. “That is a marked improvement in your tone.”
Annelise knew an opportunity when she saw it. The djinn was well disposed to both her and Rolfe; Annelise should make the most of a moment that might be a fleeting one.
She smiled, summoning every vestige of charm she possessed. “Dare I hope that you are Azima?”
The djinn’s expression was wary. “I might be.”
“And that you might be inclined to aid Rolfe again?”
“Again?”
“Not that I would show any lack of appreciation for your efforts thus far, but the other djinn has returned and made our situation rather worse.”
“I can imagine she might.” The djinn appeared to be intrigued, at least.
“She has added to the curse and I fear for Rolfe’s future.”
“Indeed? Tell me.”
Annelise repeated the new curse with care.
“Powers above and powers below,
amend the curse that I made before.
My curse may be broken with love’s sacrifice,
but only if my palace is as cold as ice.
Lest this mortal plan for my defeat
Let him truly become a beast.”
“That is less than encouraging,” the djinn acknowledged and Annelise’s hopes rose.
“Might it be possible for you to intervene now to help my husband?”
The djinn shook her head. “No, I cannot risk incurring more of Leila’s wrath. I think I have done quite enough. We are not supposed to meddle in the affairs of mortals, you know.”
Annelise’s irritation flared, though she fought against it. “But you and the other djinn are entirely responsible for the situation!”
“Entirely? Oh, I think not.” The djinn stood and brushed off her kirtle with such purpose that Annelise feared she would simply vanish.
“How can we end this curse?” Annelise asked as calmly as she could.
The djinn shrugged. “Rolfe’s salvation must be earned.”
“But how? I love him. I even told him as much and that made no difference.”
The djinn considered Annelise for a long moment. “Did it not?” she mused under her breath, then she cleared her throat. “And what did Rolfe say to you when you first spoke to him of love.”
“That a marriage based upon love could not be distinguished from a marriage with the tangible benefits of security, comfort and protection. He said love was unnecessary to ensure a bride’s happiness.”
The djinn smiled. “And what would be the tangible benefits of your love for him?”
“I meet him willingly abed.”
The djinn dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “A whore would do as much and there would be no talk of love.”
“I defend his interests and fight by his side.”
“A loyal vassal or a hired mercenary might do as much.”
“I would break this curse, no matter the price to myself.”
The djinn’s smile broadened and she raised a finger. “Now there is the measure of love and love alone, when one being cares more about the welfare of another than his or her own self.”
What would she give to see Rolfe free of the curse?
The djinn touched Annelise’s hand, and the brush of her fingertips sent renewed hope surging through her. “We must all fight for what we believe to be of import, child.”
“I am afraid that he will become a wolf and forget me,” Annelise confessed, knowing it was true as soon as she uttered the words.
“It is easy to see that Rolfe is blessed with a wife of rare courage and wit,” the djinn murmured. “You have the will within you and the means around you to solve all of this. Every puzzle, after all, has a key.”
“Surely you can aid us?”
The djinn shook her head. “I have done all that I can.”
Tears rose in Annelise’s eyes and she turned away. Despite the djinn’s confidence in her, she could not begin to imagine how to save Rolfe. She would give anything at all, but there had to be a reason for her gift.
“You will need this,” the djinn said.
Annelise spun to find a black bottle cradled in the djinn’s hands. There was something both fascinating and troubling about the dark lights that seemed to move over its surface.
“Do not look overmuch upon it,” the djinn advised. “This is the only thing I can grant you that you might need.”
“But she—”
“Leila.” The djinn’s voice was firm, and her gaze grew fierce as she pressed the bottle and its stopper into Annelise’s hands. “Her name is Leila.” The djinn looked a great deal older than she had at first.
“Azima,” Annelise guessed.
The djinn did not reply but turned away, then reached to caress the book.
Annelise dared to guess again. “Surely it is only a volume of children’s tales?” she said, suspecting that it was far more.
The djinn looked back at her, and Annelise saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes. “I suppose we are all destined to become tales for children.”
Her sadness was clear, but before Annelise could respond, she walked right through the stable wall and disappeared.
There was only a rosy glow left behind and by the time Annelise blinked, it had vanished as well.
She looked down at the bottle in her hands, knowing that she had not imagined the encounter.
Even better, Azima, despite her insistence that she could not help, had given Annelise an idea.
Chapter 13
Annelise quickly formulated a plan. Jealousy had driven Leila to make her most terrible choices, and Annelise was determined to use that a
gainst the wicked djinn. Contrary to the djinn’s assertion, though, she did not believe she had all the information necessary to use her plan. She might not know all of the curse as yet. There might be some detail that would change all.
She wanted to talk to Rolfe.
But Rolfe did not return that night. The gates did not open and they would not open. Annelise had no means of knowing whether he was pacing on the outside as she paced on the inside, or even whether he had changed back to a man or not. She hoped he had taken refuge in the tower, but uncertainty gnawed at her.
By morning, she had decided there could be no further delay. The threat of Rolfe changing fully to a wolf was too terrifying a prospect. She could not lose him now!
It was almost as frightening to have to make her best choice, knowing that she and Rolfe would have to live with the consequences for the rest of their lives. Worse, there would be only one chance to trap Leila, and Annelise did not dare to fail.
She thought her scheme had merit.
The difficulty was that she required Leila’s presence.
Since the only other thing of import to Leila was clearly the palace, Annelise decided to destroy it, in the hope of gaining Leila’s attention.
Or encouraging the djinn to intervene.
By midday, Annelise was ready. The obsidian bottle stood in the foyer, waiting.
She ran her fingers across the inlaid surface of a delicate table she had chosen to destroy first and prayed for forgiveness for what she intended to do. The piece was a work of great artistry, but that meant it had value. Before she could forget that Rolfe’s welfare hung in the balance, she dragged the table to the large pool in the garden and flung it into the water. She winced as the top cracked and had to turn away from the water soaking into the wood.
So long as she did not look at the damage, it was more readily done. She cast a carved stool through a blown-glass window, which shattered loudly. There were vases and pots on the sill on the other side, which fell and broke on the stone beneath. She hefted a wooden chest with some effort, shoving it hard against the marble neck of a fountain so that the marble cracked. The top of the fountain wavered, then fell into the water and broke. Annelise cast rugs and pillows in every direction, sending brass clattering to the tiled floor and trinkets smashing against the wall. She screamed and howled as she did so, breaking everything she could move and making as much noise as possible in the process.
One Knight Enchanted: A Medieval Romance (Rogues & Angels Book 1) Page 26
