Zarina and the Djinn Page 6

  “Really? I was certain…” A flash of disappointment darkened her eyes but vanished within seconds. “Regardless of why you travel alone, I don’t believe it suits you.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Her bright gaze searched his face, and then she cupped a palm against his cheek. One shining moment of physical contact with Zarina abolished a lifetime of pain as she stroked her thumb against the edge of his neatly shaven jaw. “Because your smiles should be shared with all.”

  Like a guiding spirit of hope, she’d come into his life and banished the darkness. Pressure squeezed his ribs and compressed the breath from his lungs.

  It hadn’t been a simple spark of attraction between them.

  Somehow, in Zarina, he’d found the fabled other half of his soul. There could be no other reason for the instant, overwhelming attraction between them.

  No, that was preposterous. The golden thread of fate didn’t exist; otherwise, his father would never have abandoned his mother. Despite his skepticism, the promise of more than affection and profound desire for Zarina flit through his thoughts.

  “I… I have a surprise for you tonight. Will you trust me?” he asked.

  Zarina’s hand dropped from his face. She drew her flowers closer and breathed them in, eyes half lidded in euphoric bliss. “Yes.”

  “Then put these away and meet with me here at half-past the hour. There is something I’d like to show you.”

  “Then I’ll be just a minute.”

  Lips as gentle and soft as a butterfly’s wings touched his cheek, and then she hurried away into the night, her garnet-clad figure a fading silhouette beneath the street lamps.

  Once she was gone and silence returned to the surrounding area, he considered his options.

  Magic used only in a selfless deed… If you mean to keep your word, Yasmina, then give me this one thing. Let me show her something beautiful she’s never experienced before. Grant me more than a vase or mere changes of clothing. Gift me the true power to give Zarina a night she’ll never forget. Joaidane gathered his magic beneath the moon and whistled, reaching out with his senses to the desert winds.

  The wind stirred in response, and he knew his friend was there.

  Moments later, Zarina approached from the direction of her home. He took her hands and kissed her knuckles. “Come with me.”

  “Where are we going?”

  To maintain the air of mystery, he smiled at her and said, “You’ll see.”

  Despite the occasional spectator observing their evening rendezvous, they walked hand in hand beneath the stars until they reached the edge of the neighborhood. Another woman who worked the market waved to them in passing as she put out scraps for the homeless dogs.

  “Hello, Iruna.”

  “Hello, Zarina. It’s so… unusual to see you awake at such an hour. Who’s your handsome friend?”

  “On the contrary, I often enjoy evening strolls. This is Joaidane. Joaidane, Iruna. She and her husband are the finest tailors the city has to offer.”

  “A pleasure to meet you, Iruna.” Joaidane bowed.

  The older woman’s gaze darted to Zarina’s face. Her brows rose in question before she welcomed him with a sincere smile. “Welcome to our city, Joaidane. Any friend of Zarina is a friend to us all. But please, don’t let me keep you.” An unspoken message passed between the two women, their body language, giggles, and expressions saying what they refrained from speaking out loud. “Have fun.”

  “Thank you. Enjoy the rest of your night,” Zarina called over her shoulder when their path to the city outskirts resumed.

  Did… did Iruna believe they were sneaking away to have sex? Better yet, did Zarina expect him to seduce her? Despite his loose trousers, a growing tension created discomfort he hadn’t experienced in years. He’d forgotten how it was to be a young, easily aroused man.

  Within moments, Joaidane became as hard as a sword hilt. Would he take her if she made the offer?

  No. It’d be wrong, as irresponsible and selfish an act as all other atrocities done by his younger, more foolish self. Yet she tempted him like his own desert siren. Without shying from their physical contact, he turned his head and let his lips skim against her ear. She shivered but didn’t withdraw.

  “You seem to know everyone.”

  “How could I not when I’ve been here my entire life?”

  At the end of the lane, a single guard stood watch over the southern city gate. He yawned into one hand and didn’t acknowledge them.

  “Where are we going?” Zarina asked.

  “Only a little farther.”

  He turned on a narrow dirt path and led her past the city’s southern stables, barely more than five stalls beneath a tarp shading a few tired camels. Eventually, they reached a stretch of scraggly grass that separated Naruk from the desert.

  “Joaidane?” Her hesitant gray eyes turned to him. “If you’re planning to abduct me, I thought you should know I don’t have a dowry to pay the ransom.”

  If only the curse wouldn’t arise with the morning, then he might have given her concerns ample consideration. She wanted to leave. He wanted her. With nothing holding her back but family obligation, it would have been doing her a favor. “Abduction wasn’t on my mind, though the idea is tempting. Even without a dowry. Then you’d have to stay in my possession forever.” He grinned wide.

  “Then what are we doing out here? There’s nothing but sand.”

  “I thought you might enjoy a ride.”

  “But we have no horse.”

  “Are you so sure of that?” He put his fingers to his mouth and whistled. In that whistle, he channeled the gift of his magic, his link to the desert sand, and the ounce of magic lingering at the core of his soul.

  The wind stirred in response, and then a stallion raced toward them across the sand, black as midnight with a mane paler than liquid moonbeams. Zarina gasped. Stepping forward with one hand outstretched, she hesitated and shuffled back again with indecision on her face.

  “Go on. He’ll allow you to touch him.”

  Her eyes remained large, body stiff and frozen in place. “I don’t want to frighten him,” she whispered.

  Appearing to sense her distress, the stallion tossed back his head and pranced closer. He pushed his dark nose into Zarina’s hand.

  “Mithran fears nothing, my lady. See how fond of you he’s already grown?”

  She laughed as the flirtatious beast’s dark whiskers tickled her throat. He sniffed her, then coerced Zarina to resume petting him by shoving his face into her hands. “He’s... he’s a dunestrider. I didn’t believe anyone but the sultan had a horse like this!”

  It seemed like years ago when the beautiful creature appeared by Joaidane’s side and carried him away from the blistering sun. Then, he’d wondered if Mithran had been sent as a final gift from the mother he’d shamed because his friend rarely left him for long, sometimes being the only thing worth living for.

  “Not even the sultan owns one so fine,” Joaidane said. “Mithran belongs to no one. Not me or anyone else. He’s as wild and free as a desert storm, but sometimes when he’s willing on such an eve as tonight, he becomes my travel companion. Have you ever ridden bareback before?”

  She shook her head. “No. We have an older packhorse with arthritis in his knees.”

  “Then this will be new for us both. I’ve never ridden with someone before.”

  He picked her up by the waist and lifted her with ease onto the stallion’s back. Zarina startled and grasped his silver mane, but Mithran remained placid beneath her. Once Joaidane mounted, he slipped his arms around her waist. Her scent enveloped him, every strand of her ebony hair infused with the heady spices of her family’s shop.

  “Where shall we ride?” he asked.

  “Anywhere,” she whispered, excitement in her soft voice.

  “As you wish.”

  Mithran carried them away from the city at an easy pace, his gait smooth as silk no matter the speed he galloped. Dunest
riders were horse spirits of the desert wind, as magical as ifrit and even fae. He could cross a hundred mile stretch of desert in a day in pursuit of an oasis kissed by sweet, green flora, but the Ivory Sea spanned for over two thousand miles of pristine, white sand. Men sometimes perished while crossing the treacherous desert, and whole caravans vanished if they embarked on their journey unprepared for the inhospitable weather.

  The farther away from the city they roamed, the faster Mithran went, as if even he were glad to be away from civilization.

  “Faster!” Zarina called.

  Obeying her, the stallion flew across the desert. Zarina’s hair streamed in the wind and her laughter, sweeter than any music, filled the night. They rode beneath the moon and stars, free of cares and worries.

  Eventually, they slowed. Mithran shook his head and stopped at a small rocky outcropping Joaidane recognized. A small spring pool, no bigger than a dinner plate, bubbled up between the stones and filled the air with a fragrant, mineral scent. During his journeys across Samahara, he would have died if not for Mithran leading him to such treasure troves. In the deep desert, travelers valued life-sustaining water more than gold or precious gems.

  After helping Zarina down, he led her over by the hand and conjured a silver goblet. For the sake of his vanity, as well as impressing her, he conjured one with an engraved pattern of roses and vines encircling the rim.

  “If you aren’t a spy for the sultan, then what do you do? Are you a wandering magician? A scholar in search of knowledge?”

  “I suppose you could say as much,” he replied. “Travel has certainly taught me a lot.”

  Zarina laughed, then knelt beside the hidden spring and filled her cup. “I haven’t decided whether you’re being mysterious to vex me or because it’s simply who you are.”

  A broad grin spread across his face. “Believe me, angering you is the last thing I want to do. But I am not used to sharing with people.”

  “Will you tell me nothing of yourself?”

  He considered the question and the terms set by Yasmina’s curse. How much could he share without violating the rules?

  “Tell me something about yourself no one else knows,” he said, “and I will tell you something in return.”

  “There’s not much to tell. I’m no one special.”

  “Please.”

  For her comfort, Joaidane conjured a rug. Yards of gold and crimson silk stretched across the white sand to protect her dress. Seeing the wonder and joy on her face became an addiction, something he wanted to do again and again, forcing him to concoct new ways to earn her happiness.

  What else could he do? What else could he give her?

  “Well… I like to read,” she said as she settled on the rug.

  “Surely you can do better,” he teased.

  She laughed and passed him the goblet. “You’re right. Besides, others know of my fondness for books. So… I’ve always wished I could travel beyond the Ivory Sea to the great ocean. The stories say it spreads out endlessly. I dream of it sometimes.”

  “It isn’t endless. It spreads westward until it reaches another realm of kingdoms known as Eostoron, led by people different from us.”

  “Have you been there?”

  “Once, many years ago, I traveled to different places around the world. I can’t say I remember all of them with absolute clarity, but what I do recall are villages of incomparable beauty with green grass softer than the silk rug beneath you. And there’s water everywhere.”

  “It sounds wonderful. I envy you some. I’d never be able to travel as you do, even if Father allowed it.”

  “Why not?”

  “I haven’t the means, for starters.”

  “Neither do I.”

  Zarina’s musical laughter ran a thrill down his spine. Her gaze wandered over his chest, appraising the expensive white linen and black leather. “Now I know you’re teasing me.”

  “Believe me, Zarina, while it helps to have wealth at your fingertips, it’s not required for travel. What else holds you back?”

  “I’ve no one to travel with, and it’s too dangerous to go on my own. Father is… well, he’s in no shape for such ventures, and Kazim has to run the shop. Besides, who would help him when I’m gone?”

  Struck by the desire to be the personal guide who escorted her from oasis to oasis, Joaidane bit back the offer on the tip of his tongue and smiled instead. “You’re a good daughter to sacrifice your happiness for others.”

  “I’m not unhappy.”

  “But you aren’t joyous. Everyone should get to live a life they love, Zarina. You might be content, but you deserve so much more.”

  Color flooded her cheeks, and she ducked her head. Joaidane reached over and tucked her hair behind her ears.

  “Forgive me. I’ve been too bold, and it’s none of my business.”

  “No… it’s only that no one has ever considered what I want before. Kazim tries, but even he has different expectations for me. They both expect me to be the good daughter, to help with the family business, and eventually marry and start a family of my own.”

  “But those things aren’t what you desire.”

  Zarina shrugged. “Yes and no. I love my brother, and I would never do anything to bring shame on our family. As for marriage… I’m not opposed to the idea. Doesn’t every girl dream of her wedding day and the children she’ll one day bear?”

  “But you have no dowry…”

  A tiny, crestfallen smile flitted across her features and failed to remain. “Kazim has been buying gifts in secrecy, hoping to build one for me, but I once had a beautiful dowry worthy of a merchant’s daughter. No man would take me now, even if I wanted them to.”

  “Then they’re fools. There’s more to a woman than her family’s money.”

  Her eyes lit, practically silver beneath the full moon. “Is that an offer?”

  Gods, he wished he could give her more than an offer of marriage. He’d give her the damned moon itself if he could. Both of them. “No,” he murmured after a time. “Though it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with my lifestyle. What do I have to offer you besides stories of distant places I’ve visited in Samahara and tales of foreign countries I could never afford to take you to see?”

  “Did you not say moments ago a fortune isn’t necessary for travel? Also, you’ve snuck several answers from me but given none yourself. What do you dream of doing with your life?”

  He leaned back on his arms and gazed up at the sky overhead. A star shot across the inky darkness. “One day I would like to return home.”

  “Where is that?”

  “Far from here, across the Ivory Sea and beyond the Veras River.”

  “On the Liang border? That’s so far away. What brought you all the way south to Naruk?”

  “I made a poor choice. And I’ve been paying for it every day of my life ever since.”

  “Oh…” She nibbled her lower lip and broke eye contact, glancing aside. “I’m sorry.”

  “You did nothing wrong, and I did promise you answers.”

  “So you travel Samahara because you can’t go home?”

  “Samahara and beyond. I ventured into Liang once or twice. I even traveled as far north as Cairn Ocland, but the kingdom was under an awful wizard’s curse, blighted and filled with dangers unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I returned to Samahara and have been here since.”

  “I’ve heard the dragons in Cairn Ocland can become people.”

  “So they say.” He laughed. “I’ve never seen a dragon there or in any other kingdom.”

  “And Liang?” she asked. “Is it true they mix magical elixirs and summon powerful spirits to do their bidding?”

  “Spirits, no. Potions, yes.” He turned his head and smiled at her. “Where do you hear such stories?”

  “My books,” she replied. Her eyes twinkled again with merriment. “I told you, most of my nights are spent reading by candlelight until I fall asleep, but lately, wandering to the vil
lage square seems to be my favorite activity.”

  “I wonder why,” he teased. “Has something taken your fancy there?”

  “Are you so eager for compliments?”

  “Maybe. What would you be reading if I didn’t pull you away from your books?”

  “The tale of Safiyya the Enchantress.”

  His belly dropped, and his smile dimmed. Mother. There are novels with stories about Mother now. Decades had passed since he’d read a book that wasn’t a tattered piece of trash tossed out as refuse. Swallowing the hard lump in his throat, he glanced away and sipped from the goblet shared between them. “What have you learned about her?”

  “Not much yet, I only began the book last night, but I already love it and wish I could be her.”

  “And before that? What’s your favorite story?”

  “The One Thousand and One Nights.”

  “Quite a different heroine from Enchantress Safiyya.”

  She laughed and dipped her head. “I suppose so, but I relate to the girl who told stories to keep her life. Safiyya had magic. Not all of us can be so powerful and strong.”

  “There are many different kinds of strength, Zarina. A woman doesn’t need to have magic to face down an army or spells to be powerful. There’s strength of willpower. Courage. Loyalty. Intelligence. Scheherazade was a woman with each of those traits, brave and beautiful, with the tenacity to face down a sultan and survive. She saved the lives of countless women who would have been beheaded in her place if she didn’t marry Sultan Amarian. And, with that marriage, she influenced the sultan and made a better man of him.”

  “You speak as if you knew her.”

  “My mother told me stories of her,” he replied, smiling. “So many I felt as if I did. If only she were here now to share some of her tales with us. She’s visited places across the world and kingdoms so distant you would sail upon a boat for many months to reach your destination.”

  “Tell me some of them. Tell me of a faraway place I will never see.”

  “When my mother was a girl, her father took her to visit a kingdom across the great ocean. In the Ridaeron Dynasty, there are no djinn, fairies, or magical dunestriders, but they would occasionally commission the aid of a sorcerer.”