“You take the bed,” Zafir told me calmly. “I’ll sleep on the cot.”
“Why?”
“It’s my way of apologizing for how I acted earlier.”
“Good move.” I’d been envious of the plush bedding ever since seeing his bed. “I accept.”
After lying down, I wished I’d refused. The room had never felt smaller, Zafir’s bed smelled exactly like him, and it was impossible to prevent myself from closing my eyes and inhaling deeply. Our kiss replayed in my mind over and over until I thought it would drive me insane. I couldn’t allow myself to get distracted by thinking about anything other than returning to Brisden and stopping Rahil from killing more girls.
A dreadful thought slunk into my head. Rahil had put up reward posters for me, and when they hadn’t yielded any results, he put up posters for Nadia. He couldn’t be targeting her for his next wife, could he?
Knowing Rahil, he could, and he likely would if I didn’t do anything about it. But there was nothing I could do from here.
The silvery moonlight bled through the window and cast illuminated squares across the floor. One fell onto the cot, where Zafir was tossing and turning, interspersed by exhales that came out in long streams of air.
“You’re sulking,” I said aloud. “And it’s making it difficult to sleep.”
His voice had lost the jealous, clipped quality from earlier and was now infuriatingly calm. “I’m not sulking. This cot is simply uncomfortable.”
I rotated and propped myself up onto my elbow so my hair slipped down over my shoulder. “You shouldn’t just take the Stillheart elixir every time you feel any emotion.”
“Your concern is noted, but I can take care of myself.”
It took a long time to fall asleep, and as Zafir’s breathing pattern never changed, I assumed that I wasn’t the only one lying awake. I gently drew a thumb across my lower lip, where I could still feel the phantom traces of the kiss that never should have happened.
What had I done when I kissed Zafir?
Nightmares camewhen I finally fell asleep, and I was plagued the entire night by images of my time in Rahil’s forbidden room, all flashing through my mind at lightning speed—the portraits, the oil lamp, Rahil standing over me, stabbing me…
More than once, I woke up, sweating all over and my breath coming in short, ragged bursts. I could still feel theblinding pain of the dagger entering my shoulder. I massaged the spot where a thin scar still marked my skin. A few inches lower, and it would have punctured my heart. As much as Zafir had mocked the absurdity of my desperate wish, at least the genie had saved my life. I tried to distract myself by picturing Zafir in my position—hand on a magic lamp and a blade slicing through the air toward him. Maybe he would have closed every loophole as he made a perfectly worded and wholly unemotional wish and gotten stabbed in the process.
As dawn slowly pushed its earliest rays into the room, I rolled over and looked at Zafir. His face was relaxed, and he had one arm sprawled above his head so it hung off the cot. I couldn’t stop myself from studying his features. A slight stubbling shaded his cheeks so that his jaw, which was usually so meticulously groomed, was shadowed over. His eyebrows weren’t pulled inward as they were when he wore his perpetual frown, and the change suited him. If only he hadn’t taken the Stillheart. As unreasonable and ridiculous as it was to think so, I preferred the emotional, passionate Zafir to the alternate cold, logical version.
His lips were slightly parted, framed by his thin goatee and the facial hair that lined his angular jaw. He really was very handsome. If only I didn’t have Julian as my only option for getting to Brisden. Zafir gave a snuffling snore, and I hastily looked away. The last thing I needed was for him to wake up and find me staring at him like some lovestruck puppy.
I slipped out of bed and tiptoed out of the room, trying to make sure the chain between us didn’t clink, then I sank into one of the armchairs on the other side of the door, staring at the handcuff. Maybe it would be better to release Zafir from the vow bond. He couldn’t help me more thanJulian could, and the longer I stayed tethered to Zafir, the more distracted I became. If Julian found out I’d been kissing his father’s vizier, even if it was just a lesson…
I buried my face in my hands. It had felt like so much more than a lesson. That time and the time Zafir drank the infatuation elixir, I had felt desired. Was it so wrong to want to be yearned for? At the same time, I couldn’t force Zafir to stay linked. Keeping him chained and forcing infatuation elixirs into him was no way to make a man fall in love with me.
I slowly raised my wrist to stare at the golden chain winking innocently in the early morning sunshine filtering in through the window. What if I told Zafir I was ready to release him? I could try to get Julian to gift me a trip to Brisden and if that failed, I might be able to stowaway on a ship heading that direction, then I could beg, barter, or trade my way onto another ship to Brisden along the way.
Across the room, my wedding ring sat on Zafir’s desk. I had no interest in wearing it, but it could be sold to make up a fraction of the cost of the journey. Maybe if I had twenty years to work, I could save up the rest, but what would happen to Nadia in the meantime? I had to get to her.
I rubbed my temples, then slowly examined the genie mark swirled around my wrist. I was bound to a genie. Could I make a wish from here?
“I wish I was back in Brisden,” I whispered to the mark.
Nothing happened. Did the vow bond make it impossible to wish to be parted from Zafir? Was there something else that was needed in order to make a wish? I thought back. I’d had my wedding ring on when I made the original wish that was granted. I knew it was the lamp that allowed me to make the wish, but Zafir had said genies were often contained in rings, so maybe…
I slipped the ring back on and tried again. “I wish Nadia was here with me.”
Still, nothing.
I sighed in frustration, then rose and deposited the ring back on Zafir’s desk and set about scouring Zafir’s bookcases, looking for the book on genies I’d been reading.
When I located it, I lifted it down from its shelf and began thumbing through it.
It is a common misconception that genies refrain from harming their masters out of obedience or loyalty. In truth, they refrain out of self-preservation. A genie’s life force is bound to that of its master, and should the master perish, the genie’s own essence collapses shortly thereafter, severed from the mortal anchor that sustains its power.
