| |
GEORGIE AND HER MEN returned to the guest floor without escort. Connor and Iksander were surer of the route, but she tried to pay attention. Her internal clock was out of whack. The meal they’d observed felt like it should have been something other than dinner. Lunch maybe, or a midnight snack. Considering she hadn’t eaten it, perhaps it was a moot issue.
She wasn’t the only one whose stomach was rumbling. As they approached their room, someone snuck out of it. The djinni clutched a basket of bread and fruit. When he spotted them, he inhaled sharply and looked guilty.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I was just, uh, checking to see if you had apples. My wife loves them, and we only got oranges.”
He held the basket out to Iksander, who reclaimed it.
“You were stealing,” he said sternly. “We’re new here. Maybe you thought we wouldn’t know we were supposed to receive this.”
“No, no,” the djinni tried to deny.
“Hey,” Connor said. “Aren’t you one of the musicians? The cellist, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” the djinni said. He hung his head with shame. “I am sorry. I know what I did was wrong, but there are four of us. We aren’t as favored by the regents as we were by the empress. The Villeneuves don’t permit us leave, but every week our basket gets smaller.”
Iksander exhaled heavily. Georgie smiled, her humor rising without warning. She knew he was going to give the hungry man their basket before his mouth opened.
“Perhaps we could work a trade,” she said, since they weren’t going to eat anyway.
“A trade?” The djinni’s head lifted.
“We’re from the provinces. There’s a story I don’t believe we’ve heard accurately. Perhaps you could give us the straight version.”
The djinni slid his eyes to Iksander, who nodded his agreement. “What do you wish to know?”
“How is it that some call the regents siblings, but they call themselves cousins?”
“Ah,” the cellist said. “That is due to a most nefarious deceit perpetrated by their mother’s rival in the harem. But we should not discuss the tale in the hall. Perhaps your rooms would be more private?”
Iksander opened the door and gestured for him to enter.
“You can shut it,” the cellist said when the sultan hesitated over closing it again. “I’ll show you the trick to getting past the lock. Most of the entertainers live in this wing. We’ve shared it with each other.”
This was a better trade than Georgie had asked for. Experienced haggler that he was, Iksander kept that awareness out of his expression.
“Your suite is large,” the cellist observed. “The regents must value your artistry.”
The sultan hummed noncommittally. “I regret we do not have wine. May I bring you a glass of water before you start?”
“Please.” The cellist lowered himself into a comfortable chair with arms.
Iksander’s politeness seemed a part of how djinn storytelling operated. Connor and she took seats while he procured the drink. The cellist wet his throat, waited for Iksander to get situated, and began.
* * *
The Tale of the Villeneuves
AS ALL KNOW, OUR GLORIOUS regents’ sire was Rodion, younger brother to Konstantin, the emperor that was. Over the years, the emperor’s unions produced no progeny, and the question of succession turned critical. When Konstantin’s middle brother, the previous heir, died putting down a rebellion, the emperor sent away his final sibling for safety. On the remote protectorate of Finch Island, where harem customs are observed, Rodion took up residence.
At the time, Rodion was twenty. Though indolent—as is sometimes wise for younger brothers—he combined the cool good looks and hot appetites of his Praetorius line. Eager to ingratiate the imperial newcomer, the province’s best families gave him many lovely djinniya daughters to serve as concubines.
The prettiest of these were cousins named Élodie and Simone.
Tall and slender, with the yellow hair for which the people of Finch Island are renowned, the two were as close in appearance as sisters. Also like sisters, the competition between them could be fierce. When virtuous Élodie seemed to capture the prince’s heart, scheming Simone found her rival’s ascendancy hard to bear. Élodie’s subsequent pregnancy, the first any of the concubines produced, inspired such jealousy in Simone that she swore a terrible oath.
Never would Élodie’s offspring inherit the Midnight Throne. Only Simone’s blood deserved to rule. In order that she might conceive, she tried to seduce Rodion. This failing—since Rodion was by then enamored with Élodie—she arranged an assignation with one of his personal guards, a young man of good family but perhaps not enough good sense. The tryst bore fruit, thus accomplishing the first stage of Simone’s stratagem.
The second required magic.
An ancient spell, no longer practiced or even remembered by decent djinn, transferred Simone’s child into Élodie’s womb. This babe was male and would normally be named heir—particularly if it was born first. By regaining Élodie’s favor and sticking close during her confinement, Simone could arrange the desired result.
Upon “discovering” with the rest of the court that Élodie carried twins, Simone pretended to rejoice. No sister could have been more attentive to a sibling’s needs, including at her lying in. Per Simone’s plan, Henri entered the world shortly followed by Eleanor. All seemed well. The babies were healthy and beautiful. Certainly, no rivalry divided them. Allies from the womb, everyone remarked on how sweet the children were to each other and how alike they looked.
The entire island fell in love with their intelligence and charm.
As the progeny grew, the people’s love increased. When Emperor Konstantin breathed his last, his second wife’s ascension to the Midnight Throne was viewed not as a usurpation but a felicitous development. Luna was a skilled leader. That being so, what could delight the province more than to enjoy their radiant twins longer? Henri and Eleanor weren’t disappointed. While prepared to serve when called, they adored their island lives.
One blot marred their happiness.
Each longed to fall in love and raise families. Though they considered all suitable djinn, the pair were such paragons of wit and beauty no others could compare. They were destined soulmates, kept apart by a cruel accident of birth.
As you might imagine, behaving as society expected was difficult. They did so, of course, but those nearest to them began to worry the drag on their spirits was harming them. Though their beauty persisted, they grew sad and listless and barely ate. As Fate would have it, over the years, their nefarious aunt had grown fond of them. Shortly before the twins’ sixteenth birthday, their parents died in a carpet crash. Afterwards, Simone was named guardian. The elevation of her status to what she’d always thought she deserved softened her resentment toward Élodie’s daughter. Her heart now open, Simone allowed herself to love both children.
She, of all djinn, guessed the source of their melancholy. On her deathbed, she confessed her ruse, freeing them at last to marry each other.
* * *
“THE REGENTS are married then,” Georgie said, because the cellist seemed to have reached the finale of his account.
“In a small private ceremony, as befitted the solemnity of their bond.”
Iksander’s small hum of reaction could have meant many things. “This is the story as people know it here?”
The cellist nodded. “It was printed in the papers when Henri and Eleanor first arrived in the capital. I have an excellent memory. I have repeated what I read. The empress that was—Creator protect her soul—never contradicted a word of it.”
The possibility there might have been something to contradict went unsaid.
For her part, Georgie wouldn’t have bet two cents anyone but the twins witnessed Simone’s deathbed confession.
“Is that all you require from me?” the cellist asked hopefully. “Apart from the trick to unlock the door, of course.”
“Yes.” Iksander handed the djinni the food basket. “Please enjoy this with our thanks.”
The djinni took it, bowed, and then he and Iksander conferred briefly about the magic lock. The sultan came back thoughtful.
“Is it just me?” Georgie asked. “Or was that story ridiculous?”
“Parts of it were conceivable. Remotely, anyway. Djinn fetuses might be transferred in that manner, but if the children had different parents, they wouldn’t be that alike. Genetics do apply here. The likelier explanation is what some suspect. The regents are brother and sister. I also sincerely doubt they considered Luna’s hold on the throne to be ‘felicitous.’ I’d sooner believe they were cousins than I’d buy that.”
“I’m surprised Luna left them in charge.”
“She might not have had a choice. Popular though she was, the Praetorius line has a history here. She couldn’t have taken power so easily if she hadn’t married into it.”
“Is it a done deal that they’ll be confirmed as co-rulers?”
“Not a done deal, but it would go against custom if they weren’t. The city’s district lords, plus one leader from each of the captured protectorates take a vote. I believe they call the conference the Smoke Chamber. They send out their decision with a white or black puff of smoke. White for yes. Black for no. Luna’s rule would have been ratified that way after the emperor died.”
“I thought he died pretty early on in their marriage. And she was young. The people here must have been impressed with her.”
“The people and the lords,” Iksander agreed grimly. “Her skill at magic dazzled them. And her bootstrap rise to fame struck the populace as romantic. Before she won that citywide magic competition, Luna was a commoner.”
Frowning, he sat in the chair the cellist had vacated. He braced on his thighs and turned to face Connor. “Hearing the regents’ story reinforces my conclusion that those two are as crazy as drunk fruit bats. I’m not sure drawing their attention the way you did was smart.”
“Attracting them was inevitable,” Connor teased. “You djinn can’t seem to resist me. I figured I might as well make hay of it.”
“They’re not safe to play with. You saw what they did to that courtier.”
“I’m not arguing your point. I just don’t see how to avoid dealing with them, one way or another.” Connor got up and clasped Iksander’s shoulder. “I know you don’t want them fixating on Georgie.”
“No, but—”
“The regents are sexually dissolute. They sense her and my difference. That interests them.”
“Are you certain you could . . .” Iksander trailed off and rubbed his knees. “If Henri pushed you . . .”
Connor smiled down at him. “What he’d want wouldn’t offend me any more than what Eleanor does. It goes without saying I’d rather have that experience with you.”
The men’s gazes connected. Iksander dropped his a moment later, apparently more at ease studying his knuckles. “Hopefully, we can avoid getting too tangled up with them.”
“Don’t forget they want us to rework the play.”
“No,” Iksander said. “I haven’t forgotten that.”
His expression was very sober—a fact Connor took note of. Seeming dismayed, he stepped back as Iksander rose.
The sultan turned to Georgie. “I want to remove these clothes. Where are the wrappers with the spell formula?”
“Bring mine, too,” Connor said. “I’ve had enough of this strange long hair.”
Stifling a laugh, Georgie hopped up to retrieve the packaging. Could males really not remember where they left things?
The instructions were simple, fortunately. They said a word, drew a symbol in the air, and—presto, change-o—they were back in their underwear, sans fancy hair and makeup. The garments even re-packed themselves. The only hitch came for Iksander. As soon as his outfit flew off, he swayed and dropped to his knees.
“Whoa,” Connor said. “Are you all right?”
“Not really.” He tried to push up but sat shakily on his heels.
“Are you that hungry?” Georgie asked. “Maybe we can find more food somewhere?”
Iksander shook his head. “I’m drained for a different reason. I think those clothes included emotion skimmers. The charms must not have been as obvious as watch spells.” He grimaced. “They sucked up plenty while we watched Lord Moore get zapped.”
“Shoot,” Connor said. “I didn’t pick up on that.”
“Well, you wouldn’t. The skimmers don’t affect you and Georgie. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine once I sleep it off. ”
She guessed the execution had really upset him. As he accepted Georgie and Connor’s help to the bedroom, he leaned on them heavily.
“Why would the regents do that?” Georgie asked as he collapsed back on the wide mattress. “They have so much magic already. They don’t need to steal more.”
“Probably because they want to dole it out. Every courtier here becomes dependent on their largesse if their own power is depleted.”
“They must notice it’s happening.”
“Maybe they don’t notice until it’s too late. And maybe the skimmers in our outfits are stronger. We’re only entertainers. Who cares if we object?”
She was sitting beside his hip. Though he lay flat on his back, pale and sweaty, he caressed her hand comfortingly. “Will you really be okay?” she asked.
He opened his lime green eyes. “I’ll really be okay. I wouldn’t want to live like this long term, but for now it won’t harm me.”
“I wonder how long the cellist’s group has been here,” Connor mused. He sat on Iksander’s other side, not touching him but near.
“Too long,” was Iksander’s wry answer.
“They were here under Luna,” Georgie realized. “She must have set up this system. Offering entertainers invitations they can’t turn down. Using food to control them. Then again, she used food to control Ishmael and the ifrits—and didn’t pay them for their service.”
“I doubt Henri and Eleanor want to admit it, but they owe her a debt. It’s hard to imagine a less skilled sorceress accomplishing all this. Who knows if the regents’ magic is up to maintaining what she built? They might have to be satisfied with exploiting her evil genius until the system breaks.”
“In that case, here’s hoping it breaks soon.”
“There is a reason to be grateful we’re at the palace,” Iksander said. “There has to be a portal hidden somewhere nearby. No ruler would establish an important residence without one. Finding it might be tricky, but perhaps Connor was correct to think this turn of events could be useful.”
Connor’s angelic nature had loved Luna. It had chosen Georgie in the end, but it had loved the empress. His smile creased his eyes wryly. “Thank you for trying to make me feel better.”
“None of this is your fault. You’re the most innocent person I’ve ever met.”
Connor must have decided he could touch the sultan too. He’d braced one hand on the covers by his shoulder. Now the knuckles of the other skimmed down his arm. Iksander didn’t pull away or break his soft blue gaze.
“Are you making me want you when you look at me like that?” he asked.
Georgie’s eyebrows rose. She hadn’t known Iksander was reacting.
“If you mean am I compelling you magically, I wouldn’t do that. Any desire you feel is arising naturally.” Connor’s smile curved deeper. “If you like, I’ll close my eyes and let you test the claim.”
Iksander shook his head with only a hint of uncertainty. “I like looking at you.”
“I am something your kind has wanted to reconnect with for a long time.”
“If that were all there was to it, I’d respond the same to any of your race. You’re . . . an individual.”
“So you think my ‘whammy’ isn’t all that draws you.”
Connor’s chest was bare at the moment. Iksander brushed his knuckles against it. “I think you have lots of draws.”
Connor leaned down and kissed him, a light press of lip to lip. Iksander licked his as Connor pulled away. Both men wore the djinn’s fine linen version of boxer briefs. Georgie couldn’t miss seeing them react. In staggered surges, their cocks swelled and lifted the thin material.
Connor moved his hand to Iksander’s flat belly, gently caressing the muscles there. “How tired are you?”
Iksander inhaled audibly. “At the moment, just tired enough to be relaxed.”
“I’d prefer the first time we do this—if we do this—not be for display.”
“I agree,” Iksander said huskily. His touch slid up Connor’s impressive bicep to his shoulder. “I’m pretty sure we’re doing this now. You could kiss me again.”
Connor smiled and pulled him upward into his arms.
They embraced each other as their mouths probed and pulled. Georgie’s body went hot all over, her pussy seeming to push steam into her bloodstream. Unable to resist, she laid her palm on Iksander’s back. She told herself she meant to be supportive, but his skin was too silken not to rub. He moaned and shuddered and broke free of Connor’s lips.
Then he turned his head to kiss her.
His technique was harder than she remembered. Maybe this was the kiss he thought a man could take. That excited her enough to steal her breath.
“Iksander,” she gasped against his lips.
His eyes glowed like hot green coals. “Kiss him too. Put your hand on my cock and kiss Connor.”
Oh he was into this situation . . . and not concealing it. Her finger trembled as she slid it across his lower lip, over his chin and throat, and down his hard torso. His erection was large enough to stun her, though perhaps she should have expected it to be in that state. She wrapped the shaft in her hand and felt its thickness jump.
Connor wasn’t impervious to her stroking the other man. He was right there, next to them, breathing hard with anticipation. When she leaned to kiss him, both men moaned. Lips tingling, she pulled back before she had her fill. Connor said her name with such a wealth of meaning that she shivered.
“I’ll check supplies in the bath,” she said, resisting the strong urge to kiss him more. “Maybe there’s something you can use as lubricant.”
Connor’s pupils expanded. “That’s a good idea.” His gaze shifted to Iksander. “I think I can be ‘pitcher’ if you’re willing to let me lead. I’ve studied this sexual practice.”
Iksander’s laugh caught Georgie by surprise. “You’ve studied it, eh? I guess your interest isn’t entirely new.”
“No,” Connor agreed breathlessly. “All sorts of sex interest me.”
Georgie guessed Iksander appreciated that quality. He reached for Connor’s ears and pulled him down to him.
The men were kissing more uninhibitedly as Georgie slipped away. The sounds of them getting physically acquainted excited her—the rising moans and rustling of bed covers. Content for the moment to leave them to it, she opened the bath chamber’s cabinet. Unlike their jail cell accommodations, here the shelves held a variety of fancy soaps and lotions in colorful small bottles. A cobalt blue decanter drew her hand. It only took a second for the fancy label to translate.
“‘Eternity Oil’?” she called through the open door.
Iksander groaned at something Connor did then panted that Eternity Oil was a reasonable choice for their purposes. Connor chuckled, probably tormenting him somehow. Smiling to herself and figuring she might as well, Georgie shucked the last of her clothes before padding back into the bedroom.
At first glance, the men looked like they were wrestling. Both were as nude and sweaty as classic Greek athletes. Iksander had Connor pinned under him. The energetic working of his glutes suggested he was rubbing their erections together.
“He’s chafing me,” Connor complained jokingly. “I need that oil on me now.”
Iksander broke loose and panted as she approached the bed. His eyes slid over her, taking in the fact that she was naked too. He didn’t hold out his hand for the bottle. He seemed to be waiting for her to decide the next move.
“You want me to oil him?” she asked.
“Please,” he said. “Show me what he likes.”
Connor liked everything, but she certainly didn’t mind helping out.
Grinning, she swung onto the bed on her knees. Iksander scooted backwards to give her room. She caught his arm before he went too far.
“Give me your hand. You can do this with me.” She poured oil into his cupped palm and then her own. Pressing them together warmed the stuff, plus she got to feel his pulse speed up. Connor’s erection jerked as they wrapped it in tandem.
Pulling up his shaft made him writhe on the bedcovers.
“He’s so smooth here,” Iksander said.
“So are you,” Georgie pointed out. She loosened her hold, lightly guiding his hand for the next upstroke. “Why don’t you do to him what you like done to you? I think you’ll find he’s pretty easy to get going.”
Iksander bit his lip with concentration and took over. If she hadn’t been fascinated, she’d have laughed at his seriousness. Her suggestion was all he needed to take charge with assurance. He gave Connor long, smooth strokes, from where his balls rooted in his body to the swollen tip of his erection. With each pass, the pads of his thumbs drove extra pressure into his under side.
Liking this, Connor breathed a swear word and writhed harder. His cock was shiny now from the oil, his veins standing out in blue. The sultan seemed to take this as encouragement to dig in and work harder. Connor’s back arced off the mattress.
“Not that I’m . . . not enjoying this,” he gasped, “but if you want me to have any self-control, maybe Georgie and I should oil you. You know—“ He broke off as his breath hissed with pleasure. “—to make sure you’re relaxed enough.”
Iksander let go and laughed. He shifted back, mischief lighting his jewel-toned eyes. He bent as if he were bowing to lightly kiss Connor’s quivering tip. Georgie hadn’t expected him to be so daring. Neither had Connor, apparently. When the djinni straightened again, the moisture on his lips wasn’t all Eternity Oil.
“All right,” he said, flopping face down on Connor’s other side. “Feel free to do me now.”
They were happy to oblige, quickly discovering four hands added up to more than the sum of two. Iksander cursed the same as Connor had—and for not necessarily sexual caresses. Stroking his legs and arms and even fingers got him going. His responsiveness made pleasuring him a pleasure. With coordinating movements, Georgie and Connor oiled his back and kneaded his ass muscles. Stimulated by that, the sultan wriggled and curled his toes.
“Ready?” Connor asked.
“Oh yes,” his soon-to-be catcher said throatily.
When Connor lifted his hips and Georgie slid a pillow under, he didn’t seem nervous. If anything, his ass was arching up eagerly. Connor dribbled oil down his crack.
“I’m going to push this lube in you,” he warned.
Iksander groaned with bliss the moment his thumbs went in. “God,” he said when his voice recovered. “That feels incredible.”
Connor kissed him between the shoulder blades. His knees nudged Iksander’s legs apart. He seemed as sure about what was going to happen as Iksander. Georgie guessed she was too. Maybe those nights sharing cushions had paid off. This felt right to her, as if their combination were meant to be. Connor removed his thumbs, wiped them on a towel, and pulled Iksander’s cheeks apart.
Georgie held her breath as he positioned himself for entry. Iksander’s hand caught hers, trapping and squeezing it against the bedcovers. His head turned toward her on the pillow, his eyes shining with arousal.
She bent to kiss his flushed and perspiring cheek. “I’m right here. I’ll hold onto you.”
Iksander crooked his thumb around her wrist to the spot where her pulse pattered. At that, recognition dawned. He didn’t need support. He wanted to know how watching affected her.
“God,” he groaned as Connor began to push.
Connor paused once the head was in.
“Let me know if anything hurts,” he said. “I’m going to take this slow.”
The noises Iksander made as he continued said nothing hurt at all. His fingers tightened on Georgie’s hand.
“Almost there,” Connor said tightly.
Georgie looked at him. The angel’s face was dark with arousal, its muscles tight. He was focused on Iksander—on the place he entered, on the feel and reactions of the other man’s body. Iksander moaned as his cock crossed a crucial pleasure spot.
“There,” he groaned. “That’s my prostate. Thrust over me right there.”
Connor pushed up straight on his muscular arms, pulled his hips back, and thrust again.
Georgie guessed this felt good to him as well. He tried to keep his motions smooth and measured, but in less than a minute he’d sped up considerably. Both the men’s expressions strained with tension, a look Georgie found indescribably sexy. Iksander’s jaw muscle bunched a second before he blurted a confession.
“I want her too,” he said. “Roll us onto our sides.”
He pushed his weight back even as Connor cooperated with his desire. The sultan’s front view kicked her pulse into overdrive. His skin was reddened from waist to knee from being ground—and from grinding himself—over the hip bolster. His cock bounced forcefully with excitement, its length and girth eye-popping.
“Come here,” he growled, tossing away the pillow and reaching for Georgie’s hips.
She lay down for him, her hand resting on his side, her every nerve thrilling as he gripped and lifted her upper thigh. She was obviously hot and wet, but he slid two fingers between her labia anyway. Whatever he growled at the state he found her in didn’t translate—or perhaps her brain was too distracted. Her spine rolled with longing as his thumb worked her clit strongly up and down.
“Place me,” he said. “I want to shove straight in you.”
She was more than ready to go along with that. She angled his rigid shaft until his knob notched her perfectly. The throb of his sexual flesh in that intimate place caused more heat to gush from her. Palms tingling, she took a moment to fondle him. Their eyes locked, his glowing with green fire. She slid her thumb down his satiny length, rubbed sideways, and then cupped his testicles. His penis jumped against her. She squeezed his scrotum gently, rolling the pressure from side to side.
“You’re killing me,” he whispered. “Move your hand now so I can thrust.”
She smiled, gave him one last squeeze, and let go.
“Georgie,” he said and drove into her completely.
Her head went back with pleasure, her lashes dropping under the weight of bliss. Despite her delight, she registered the moment Connor’s touch slid down her back to stroke over and grip her ass. His big hand yanked her closer to Iksander.
“Oh yes,” Iksander praised, his pelvis pushing greedily into her. “Help me hold her. I want to lever right through her.”
When he moved, it felt like both men were taking her. His thrusts were deeper and more intense than the previous time he made love to her. Iksander was being pleasured from both directions. He should have been distracted. Instead, his choices were as on the mark as Connor’s would have been. Everything she felt was exciting—every stroke, every clamping hand, every brush of skin on skin. Connor wasn’t causing the djinni to mimic his technique. Somehow, he added his knowledge of her body to the sultan’s. Iksander cupped her breast his own way. His dexterity was his, the precision with which he pinched and turned her aroused nipple. When he bent to suck and tease the peak, however, Connor could have directed the pressure.
Maybe Connor guessed she didn’t want everything centering on her. Iksander groaned as an inward drive from the angel yanked his attention to his own body. His mouth left her breast as his head flung back. She loved that too, the ecstasy he must be experiencing tightening her walls on him. Both men were going harder, speeding with imminence. Iksander’s thumb caught her clit and circled, the friction exquisite. She gasped, unable to warn them how close she was. The men couldn’t speak either. They jostled her, their upper legs slinging forward for purchase. Their scent rose overwhelmingly around her. Arms wrapped her and she wrapped back.
Connor’s breath whined from him. Suddenly more weight pushed at her.
“God,” Iksander gasped, the next tandem thrust driving his cock to infinity.
Her sensation rose, powerful and sweet, as he swelled inside her. Wanting to cling to everything at once, she slid her hand up to his shoulder. She clutched his cock with her pussy and dug her heel into Connor’s rear thigh muscle.
She came with a spike of feeling that resounded from her core. Almost at the same moment, Iksander flooded heat into her. Connor’s hand jerked from her ass to Iksander’s hip. Now that he had the grip he wanted, he thumped into him fast and hard. He must have been hungry to go over. He climaxed with a growl that utterly thrilled her. As he did, Iksander held her close to his pounding heart. His cheek was bristly, his body hot.
“Mmm,” he said, gently stroking her.
Georgie smiled and stroked him too. The weight against her lightened as Connor eased out of him.
“That wasn’t bad,” he slurred. “Considering we were first-timers.”
Iksander rolled onto his back snorting. “If it gets better, you might kill me.”
“Did we tire you?”
Connor sounded so concerned Iksander laughed. “Done right, sex charges up my kind. I feel energized.” Proving it, he sat up to pat Georgie’s hip.
“I’m sleepy now,” she confessed.
This didn’t seem to bother him. He rubbed her leg and looked over at Connor. “I want to vape out. See if I can find the kitchen and grab some food. Do you feel comfortable watching Georgie while I’m away?”
Knowing what Georgie would think about needing a babysitter, Connor grinned. “As long as Georgie doesn’t mind watching me.”
“Fine. You’ll look out for each other.” Iksander crawled out of bed, stretched hugely, then shook his arms. Since he was naked, the optics were interesting.
“Is vaping the same as smoking?” Georgie asked, despite her distraction.
“More or less. Turning to vapor means you’re invisible.”
Georgie pinched her lower lip. Neither she nor Connor could do that, which meant he’d be safer without their company. “You’ll be careful while you’re scouting?”
The djinni’s smile was gentle and heart stealing. “The thought of you two waiting shall guide all my decisions.”
Though he spoke prettily, she sensed his words went deeper than flattery.
~
RELIEVED AT HAVING a task to occupy him, Iksander crouched to decode the door lock. His body felt so good it worried him. It would have been more reasonable for their first experience as a threesome to be awkward. He’d never shared a woman before. Or had sex with a man. He knew himself to be sexually adventurous. Everything considered, he suspected what they’d done was vanilla. That being true, why did he have the sense that, for the first time in his life, every facet of his erotic nature was satisfied?
He’d felt free with Georgie and Connor, as if they’d accept his kinks without censure. Surely that was an illusion: his emotions running away with him. As to that, why was he considering his emotions? Though he’d grown fond of the pair, once he’d—God willing—solved the Glorious City’s problems, they’d leave his world for theirs.
His stomach clenched. He didn’t want to think about that . . . and probably shouldn’t now. As soon as he cracked the lock spell, he shook off his concerns and slipped his physical form. Though Georgie and Connor gasped at him disappearing, he didn’t look back at them.
He didn’t need more reminders that the three of them had a bond.
Vaping was a quick mode of travel, on top of which he’d been keeping track of the back corridors. If Mordent Palace were organized similar to his, the kitchen complex was on a lower floor. Silently reciting a prayer for luck, he chose a stairway to fly down.
The door at its bottom opened on a passage that didn’t seem promising. The walls were blank and black, the floor showing little wear. In a palace this size, kitchens saw high traffic. This level must be for other utilities. Still, since he was there, he might as well look around. As he did, his nonphysical perception spied a faintly glowing line of footprints. Someone besides him had come here recently.
Iksander had honed his skill at invisible flitting by sneaking out of his own palace. If he hadn’t, he might have landed himself in trouble. The footprint trail led straight to an armed djinni. The hall the soldier blocked was narrow and sloped downward behind him. If the palace possessed a portal, that passage might lead to it. Iksander would have to pass by the guard to enter, and increase the chance he’d be sensed. On the positive side, the guard looked bored. He hadn’t noticed him thus far. Maybe investigating further was a reasonable risk.
Being brought to the palace couldn’t be an advantage unless he exploited it.
That thought decided him. Using the bare minimum of power, Iksander nudged his vapor form past the soldier. Not rushing took self-control, but he held onto it. Slowly he drifted, slowly, less substance than an air current. When the guard was two body lengths behind, he let himself speed up. The passage continued for some distance. He reached its end in a few minutes.
There a wall confronted him. He didn’t think it was a dead end. Symbols made of brass were sunk into the black surface. The symbols marched around nested circles—also brass—and were interspersed with stones. Iksander didn’t recognize the seal they formed, but he could tell it was powerful. Magic beat out from it in pulses. He quieted his mind, trying to intuit how the charm might be got around. He believed he heard a mantra repeating: NOTHING IN, NOTHING OUT.
More than that he couldn’t uncover.
His vapor form couldn’t sigh, but he heaved one mentally. Now and then it would have been useful to be better at spellcraft.
~
THE SOUND OF CONNOR and Iksander speaking in low tones woke Georgie. She crawled out of bed to join them in the sitting area.
“You’re back,” she said, her voice ringing happily.
That might have been embarrassing if Iksander hadn’t smiled at her.
“I am,” he said. “And I brought sustenance.”
He handed her a fresh crusty roll spread with what looked like Brie.
“Mm,” she said, sniffing it and taking a big bite. Food control notwithstanding, djinn sure knew how to cook.
“Iksander might have found the palace portal,” Connor said.
“Possibly,” the djinni cautioned. “I slipped past the guard who was defending it, but the ward was too complicated for me to crack. All I can say for certain is the seal shields something important.”
“Could I override the charm, do you think?”
“Possibly. I’d have to lead you there unseen. And distract the guard. If the corridor doesn’t lead to a portal, we don’t want to raise alarms. Our relative freedom could be snatched away again.”
Georgie sat and chewed thoughtfully.
“Don’t djinn have trouble blocking human magic?” Connor asked. “Maybe you could teach Georgie a sleep spell. If she cast it from a distance out of sight, the guard will think he dozed off at his post. He might even be too embarrassed to report it.”
“She’d need time to practice. We could try late tomorrow night, I guess. When the servant corridors aren’t busy.”
Iksander looked at her with raised eyebrows.
“I’d be up for that,” Georgie said.
“Good. You can test out the spell on me. Either we’ll waste the remainder of the night, or I’ll be well rested tomorrow.”
The joke showed he was comfortable, but it wasn’t the only change in him. He held himself differently in the chair: less regal and more relaxed. Georgie liked knowing she and Connor played a part in easing his anxiety. She liked him, actually.
That bothered her a little. She had a feeling only Connor didn’t worry about their shared future.
For the moment, Iksander’s mind was on other things. He slapped his thighs, stood up, and turned his head as if searching. “I need something to write on.”
“Perhaps in the desk?” Connor suggested, pointing to a small secretaire.
Iksander rummaged through it like a man unaccustomed to hunting up conveniences for himself. “Here we go,” he finally exulted. “Paper and pencil.”
He might have discovered the Holy Grail. Georgie hid her amusement with an effort.
“I know number of sleep spells,” he explained. “Half-know them anyway. I used to knock out my nurse when I was a child. I’ll write down a few for you. We’ll see what suits your magic best.”
“You used to knock out your nurse?” Connor repeated, stuck on that.
“She was strict. I liked to wander sometimes at night. As a child, I had extra energy.”
Georgie gave in and laughed. “I bet you were a handful.”
“Willful and spoiled was her term for it.” He looked sheepish, which she guessed was a sign he’d grown up.
“This will be karma then. Though I’ll try not to put you in a coma.”
“Please,” he said, mild alarm pulling at his mouth. “I’ll have you know my nurse forgave me. Sends me birthday greetings every year.”
Georgie hopped up and kissed his cheek. Her affection seemed to take him by surprise. He returned the hug cautiously.
“I’ll be gentle,” she promised as she pushed back from him.
When he smiled, something more than playfulness shimmered between them.