Chapter 18

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

Zahir couldn’t concentrate on what Lorenzo Tera, the Coins representative, was saying about the foundation works that they were currently completing in the lower areas of the city. He had his indigo journal with him, and his thumb kept idly rubbing over the small sparrow that had been pressed on the bottom corner.

He hadn’t received any messages from Ezra, and he was trying his best not to let it bother him. He hadn’t wanted to wake her, so he had left her wrapped in a blanket on the roof. He’d erected a tent over her to make sure the weather didn’t bother her and had left her a platter of tea and breakfast. He had also made sure that there were blooming sunflowers because she said that she loved them so much.

You are being pathetic,he told himself. Maybe he should have woken her.

It was late afternoon; she would have definitely woken by then. He opened the notebook again, still nothing. Zahir’s pen hovered over the page. He pulled back, not wanting to smother her. Ezra was a grown woman. She would message him when she was ready to.

Arkon nudged him with his foot, rousing him from his thoughts. He tapped some writing on his notebook. Stop thinking of your mage.

Zahir ignored him. Arkon was in no position to give advice when it came to obsessing over mages. He rubbed at his chest, trying to relieve the strange ache that appeared there. Was he… having feelings? It was so, so dangerous for him to become attached to something so fragile as a human. He thought of her crooked smile and the way her mouth felt on his.

Zahir tried not to let his imagination run too wild. He was still embarrassed that he had come untouched, just by feeling the echoes of her orgasm through their magic. Fuck, she was so… He didn’t have the words.

His thumb ran over the sparrow imprint again. He hoped she was okay. He didn’t like this feeling in his chest. It was almost a panicky sensation that something was wrong, but he had no evidence to back it up.

Zahir started as Gio dropped his book on the table loudly. "Okay, everyone, we are done for the day," he said, getting to his feet. He gave Zahir a suspicious look. Zahir smiled innocently. He wasn’t going to worry Gio about golems being sold to the Varangians without the evidence needed to take care of the problem. The Doge had enough to worry about.

"What’s wrong with you today?" Arkon asked once they left the council chambers.

"I don’t know. Something feels off." Zahir shook his head. "It’s nothing."

Arkon didn’t look convinced. "Well, here is something that might lift your spirits. My Ravens have identified the men in the pictures you gave Stella. The older one is Zachariah Todesa, and the artist is Giuseppe Zacuto."

Zahir smiled. "That is good news. I trust that they are running down all of their known associates."

"Every one down to the members of their book clubs. We will find out who is behind this Cabal in no time." Arkon nudged him with his shoulder. "What’s going on with you and Ezra? Stella is very taken with her."

Zahir shook his head. "You are like a gossipy old nonna."

"I’m the spymaster. Gossip is my trade. Come on, tell me," Arkon coaxed.

"She’s disrespectful, sassy, and the most outstanding kisser," Zahir relented. "I like her, Arkon, and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not."

Arkon smiled softly. "It is. Jaded old bastards like us find it hard to like anyone. We’ve seen the worst of humanity, so when we find a person we genuinely like, it throws us out of balance."

"That’s remarkably insightful," Zahir teased. He frowned and rubbed at his chest as the pressure increased again.

Arkon noticed the movement. "What is it? Are you hurt?"

"I don’t know. I have the strangest feeling that something is wrong, like panic."

"We are in the middle of a war and dealing with traitors. Something is always wrong," Arkon replied and frowned. "Do djinn get heartburn?"

"It’s not funny. Something is really…" Zahir gasped as his chest squeezed tight. He started to sag and Arkon caught him up.

"Zahir! Breathe!" the sorcerer commanded.

Zahir tried to, but everything hurt. He had never felt anything like it before. He gasped in and out until the pressure eased a little. His magic was flaring, and he fought to keep hold of his physical body.

"I-I’m okay," he said to Arkon, who was flapping about like a frightened bird.

"You are not okay! What the fuck?! Djinn don’t have heart attacks!" he replied.

"Lower your voice, and stop making a scene," Zahir snapped. Arkon lifted him back to his feet and led him over to one of the marble railings.

The sorcerer looked spooked. "You completely blinked out of there for a second. Are you sure you’re okay? I can get Ashirah? Oh, look, here she comes now."

Zahir glanced up to see his second in command striding towards him. She looked grimmer than usual.

"Thank God you are here. He’s losing it," Arkon told her, putting his hands on his hips. "He’s hurt!"

"I am not. Stop being dramatic," Zahir complained.

"Ashirah, he collapsed!"

Ashirah placed a hand on Zahir’s shoulder. "My king?"

"I’m fine. I just felt like my insides were being crushed for a moment. My chest has been hurting," Zahir told her.

Ashirah’s frown deepened. "In the last hour or so?"

"Yes. How did you know?" Zahir asked in alarm. "What are you doing here? What’s happened?"

Ashirah gripped his shoulders. "I don’t want you to panic, but a man came to visit Ezra. We don’t know if he was Cabal or not."

Zahir sat on the marble railing. He was shaking and couldn’t stop. "What did he do? Spit it out already!"

"I don’t know all the details. Asim was watching her and saw them arrive. He heard screaming, but you ordered us not to interfere. He didn’t know whether he should go in or not." Ashirah’s voice hadn’t lost any of its steadiness. "After the stranger left, Asim went in to check on Ezra. He couldn’t handle it, so he disobeyed you and went inside. Whoever the guy was, he messed her up, Zahir. She’s hurt."

"Did Asim get a good look at the guy? He could be a part of this Cabal," Arkon asked. Zahir was no longer listening. His body locked up in fury, flames bursting along his skin.

"Where is she?" he demanded, his voice going metallic with magic and rage.

"Asim took her to the boat. He didn’t know what else to do," Ashirah said.

Zahir blinked out of existence and shot through the ether. He’d left the boat in Cannaregio that day because he’d felt like walking. He landed on the deck and re-materialized, wreathed in flames. The djinn on deck scattered except for Asim, who was guarding the door to the lower cabins.

"Where is she?" Zahir snarled.

Asim lowered his eyes in deference. "I placed her in your chamber, my king. She was attacked and called out for you. I didn’t… I didn’t know what else to do."

Zahir pushed some of his rage down and patted him on the arm. "You did the right thing to bring her here."

Asim looked up at him, his eyes dark with anger. "I should’ve done something sooner."

"It’s okay. I’m not mad at you," Zahir tried to reassure him.

Asim stepped away from the door. "But you will be."

Zahir moved into the cabin, through his office where he received petitioners, and into his private bed chambers. It was the one place he didn’t allow anyone to enter. The roof was made of a mosaic of stained glass that made different colors shine all over it. Ezra was on the bed in a curled-up bundle, sobbing quietly with a stained sheet over her.

Zahir swallowed hard. As he moved closer, he saw what had upset his djinn. She was covered in bloody stripes from her neck to her ankles. He couldn’t breathe again.

"Ezra?" he whispered, his voice cracking. "Sparrow?"

Ezra turned towards him and showed him her busted face. One eye was completely swollen shut. "T-They realized the shem in the other g-golem didn’t work," she sobbed.

Zahir cursed low and long before lifting the sheet away. "We need to heal you right away before this becomes infected."

"T-They will know you helped me…"

"I don’t fucking care, Ezra!" Zahir snapped before rubbing his hands over his face. "Any decent med-mage in the city could do as much."

He was so beyond angry that the ship was shuddering slightly, reacting to his mood. He took some deep breaths to try to still himself. He had been tortured and whipped many times while he had been enslaved. He knew exactly what she was going through, and he was desperately trying not to let it trigger him. He had to heal her, and then he would unleash hell on the fucking men responsible.

Zahir touched a bare space on Ezra’s shoulder and drained the pain from her body. Ezra gasped, her body twitching as pain rose up above her in a twisted ball of blackness. Zahir incinerated it, burning it away until there wasn’t anything left.

"T-Thank you," she said and sniffed hard.

Zahir stroked her hair. "Hush now. Let me heal you. Then you can tell me who did this to you so I can pull their limbs off one at a time."

"You’re a little scary, you know that, right?" she said, her busted lips lifting in a smile.

"Yes, and I’m not to be fucked with, so you be a good girl and rest for me," he replied, his gruffness out of sheer self-defense. Ezra turned away from him so he could see the full extent of her back. She had been whipped, that much he was certain of, but he had never seen whip marks that were scorched into flesh.

"What did they use on you so I know what weapon of choice I’m going to kill them with?" he asked, placing his finger on the first deep slash and sending healing magic through it.

"He didn’t carry one. These long, electrified cords came out of his wrists and struck at me. They burned my clothes off. My face was done with his fists. He caught me off guard. He said he’d come on behalf of the Cabal and asked to see the drawings I was working on. Perfectly pleasant. Then without losing his smile, he laid into me," Ezra said, her voice steadier now that the pain was gone. "They must have told him that if I could think properly, I’d be able to fuck him up with magic. It was smart in a sadistic way. He said that he’d been sent to motivate me because the other golem stopped working."

Zahir could hardly breathe through his anger. "He didn’t happen to be stupid enough to give you his name?"

"No, but he wasn’t Venetian. He had a strange thick accent and spoke English," Ezra replied.

"That’s something we can work with. Asim saw his face, so he won’t be able to hide from us for long." Zahir healed another two deep slashes until they were pink scars. They could be healed entirely, but affordable med-mages didn’t do cosmetic work. Once the Cabal members were swinging from the gallows, he would wipe away every horrible mark that they left on her.

"I’m so sorry this happened to you," Zahir said, his chest aching again. "I should have known they would hurt you." They had already done it, after all. That hadn’t left marks, and Zahir hated himself for allowing her to be in harm’s way.

Once the last wound was healed on her back, Zahir draped a gold and indigo robe over her and helped her sit up. Ezra looked up at him, her face a swollen mess.

"I must look worse than I feel," she said, staring up at him.

"You are still beautiful," he replied honestly.

Ezra huffed a laugh. "You just can’t help being a flirt, can you?"

"You make it easy." Zahir stroked her cheek and focused his power into gently healing the swelling and the cracked nose and cheek bone underneath. Once it was done, Ezra moved her jaw from side to side and touched her nose.

"You really do have magic hands. I don’t suppose you have a bathroom in here?" she asked.

Zahir nodded. "Stay here. I’ll run the bath for you." He went through a narrow door and into the bathroom. He turned on the taps of the deep copper tub and tipped in some salts. He felt so fucking helpless. He grabbed one of the plush orange towels and screamed into it.

"Did that make you feel better?" Ezra asked from behind him. He started and turned, shoving the towel aside.

"Not really," he admitted. His insides were shredded, and the more he looked at her still bloody face, the more irrational he felt. "Let me get out of your way."

Ezra caught him by the shirt, stopping his retreat. She lifted up on her toes and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

"Thank you for everything," she whispered before letting him go. "Especially the sunflowers."

Something cracked inside of him. He wanted to bundle her up in his arms and never let her go.

"Stay in it as long as you need to. I’ll get some food," he said and got out of there before he lost his mind.