Chapter 4

CHAPTERFOUR

Astunningly beautiful female djinn was waiting for Zahir outside of the palace walls. Her hair was a mass of braids, threaded with lapis lazuli beads, and she wore a gold and blue kaftan. She looked like the ancient queen she had been so long ago. Ashirah was smoking something that smelled of blue lotus and cinnamon. It was an ageless blend from Egypt that djinn adored, and his second in command was no different.

"What’s wrong with the sorcerer?" Ashirah asked as he fell into step beside her. People in the square stared at them. Zahir was used to it. They both could make themselves incorporeal, but sometimes it was important to be seen.

"The Wolf Mage, like always."

"Maybe you should transport him to Kyiv so he can fuck her. It might help him get her out of his system," Ashirah replied, ever the pragmatist.

"Unfortunately, Arkon getting laid wouldn’t be much use to the Republic."

She blew out a fragrant cloud of smoke. "It will if he stabs her after he’s done."

Zahir’s laughter bubbled out of him. "You’re so romantic."

"All my dead husbands would disagree with you," she replied with a wicked grin.

Zahir’s boat was docked in a special space reserved for council members. He didn’t usually bother to bring it with him. He had been in a mood that morning, and he wanted home close.

When Zahir was struck with boredom, like the current malaise affecting him, he liked to be on the water. It reminded him that he could still die and that he wasn’t quite ready to face that fate yet. Life always seemed to find a way to surprise him out of taking the final leap overboard. He just had to hang on long enough for it to happen.

Zahir went into his cabin and sat behind the cluttered wooden desk. "Take us home," he told the boat. On deck, the ropes untied themselves from their moorings, and the ship drifted away from the dock. It would go wherever it knew that petitioners were, and it was never wrong.

Ashirah watched him carefully from her place under the porthole window. She hummed a little. "You’re not yourself today."

"What are you, my wife?"

"Like I’d be stupid enough to marry the likes of you. Out with it, old friend. I know something is wrong."

Zahir pulled at one of the golden hoops in his ears. "I feel like my fire has gone out."

"You’re a djinn. Your fire can’t go out. You could make all of Gio’s dreams come true and go and stop the war single-handedly," Ashirah suggested.

"I have no appetite for killing half frozen soldiers. You know the rules: if we interfere like that, the humans will fear us. I want us to have a place in this new world. Besides, I have seen what men do when they have a weaponized djinn. I wouldn’t follow Gio if I didn’t trust him, but some things are better left in the past and forgotten," Zahir replied. He felt terribly ancient all of a sudden.

"Take a lover. Take ten if you have to. You will find something amongst them to keep you interested and occupied," Ashirah said impatiently.

Zahir leaned back in his chair and stared at the wooden ceiling. "Even that doesn’t seem like a challenge anymore."

"You have petitioners to see and their problems to solve," Ashirah snapped and lit another smoke. "Pull yourself together and stop being pathetic."

Zahir chuckled. "I love you too, my sister."

"Bah. Pathetic like all males," Ashirah repeated.

They had barely pulled into the dock when the first petitioner scrambled on deck. Zahir looked pleadingly at Ashirah. "Make me tea?"

Another petitioner hit the deck. It was going to be one of those days.

"I’ll make it strong," she said and disappeared, leaving streaks of indigo smoke in the air.

Someone knocked on the door, and Zahir let his face settle into his feared King of the Djinn pose. "Enter," he boomed and got ready for more boredom.

* * *

In Zahir’slong life of granting humans their hearts’ desires, he had learned that they basically boiled down to three things—money, power, and love. He could smell the desperation on the gamblers, see the pining in the eyes of the besotted. Usually, he could ignore it, make the best deal, and send grateful wretches on their way.

"Stop. I’ve had enough," he begged the magic of the boat. He was done.

It was sunset, and an entourage of djinn that acted as bodyguards had already established themselves on the deck of the boat. They were smoking a hookah and lounging on silken pillows.

Zahir wanted to hear all about the magical and wonderful things they had seen and created that day. He was king, and so he couldn’t walk amongst the Wands District as openly as he liked. His djinn had to do it for him.

Ashirah came into the cabin with another pot of tea—his third—and caught him with his head on the desk.

"Tsk. You are in a bad way today," she said, putting the tea down.

Zahir groaned. His magic twitched irritably under his skin, rippling through him like a tidal wave. He rubbed at his arms as flames danced out of his skin. Something was wrong…

Feet hit the deck of the boat.

"I need to speak with the king," a woman’s voice echoed through the door. She shouldn’t have been able to get on deck at all after he closed for the day.

He looked through the window of the door that was invisible from the outside. Asim’s tall body was blocking the woman’s path, and Zahir couldn’t see her. Zahir’s magic flared again, like a warning of danger.

"The king isn’t in. Please wait until he’s open to petitioners once more," the huge djinn said, his deep voice unyielding. A look from Asim was usually enough to dissuade someone from arguing.

"I can feel his magic radiating through this boat. I know he’s here. Move aside," the woman demanded.

Ashirah chuckled. "We have a lively one tonight. I bet you two soldi that Asim tosses her into the canal."

"I’ll take that bet," Zahir replied, his power dancing over his skin once more. What the hell was going on?

"Signorina, please don’t make me use force. You are trespassing," Asim growled. He moved aside, and Zahir got a look at the firebrand. She was short, barely coming up to the center of Asim’s chest, with generous curves of hips and breasts. Her hair was a thick abundance of dark curls around a face that was pure fury. Zahir felt a stirring of interest mix in with his erratic magic. He had a weakness for passionate women.

The stranger smiled suddenly at Asim, beautiful and open. "You know what? Why don’t you go and play with your friends?" she suggested. She pointed at them, wiggling a finger in the air.

Zahir put a hand on the door, ready to intervene, when the strangest thing happened. Golden sparkles began to fall on the djinn. Asim tilted his face up to them, and a dopey smile spread across his face.

"You’re right. We shouldn’t be fighting. You can join us if you like," he said with a charming smile designed to drop panties wherever he aimed it.

The woman patted him on the arm. "Maybe after I see the king, we can hang out."

"I’d like that. So pretty," Asim replied, touching a dark red curl buried amongst all the black.

Ashirah sucked in a surprised breath. "What the fuck just happened to him?"

"I have no idea. Let’s see if she can get past the wards on the door," Zahir said. He sat behind his desk and hastily finger combed his hair. He had never seen anyone able to enchant a djinn before and didn’t want her to try it on him.

Ashirah took up her usual seat and poured herself a cup of tea. "You’re not bored now, are you?"

Zahir’s magic flared as the woman touched the door. He could feel her magic, subtle and powerful and unlike anything he’d experienced before in a human. The sound of her laughing came through the wood, deep and husky. It was a sound made for the bedroom, and Zahir wanted to hear it again. She tore the ward free and barged through the door with a kick of her black combat boots.

"I’m here to see the King of the Djinn," she declared, her breathing heavy. Her dark, kohl-rimmed eyes were burning with power.

Wow, look at you.Zahir fought to keep a bored expression. "And you’ve found him. What do you want, rude girl?"

"It’s Ezra, not rude girl. Ezra Eliyahu." She took a breath and dared to look him dead in the eyes. "I need your help."

"Your kind always does. What with?" Zahir poured himself more tea, preparing for something mundane. It would be a waste after such a fun entry.

"With this," Ezra said and lifted her arms. She had pretty tattoos decorating her ringed fingers and slender wrists. Her magic let out a low hum and marks rose on her skin. Zahir put his tea down on the desk before he dropped it. He strode over to her, but Ezra didn’t move. Her brow furrowed in pain.

Zahir took her hands in his. He knew the magic that bound her. The enslaving spells were highly illegal in the Republic, and they were hurting her by just revealing them to him.

Zahir’s grip on her tightened, and flames filled his eyes. Fury made his voice deepen. "Who the fuck did this to you?"