Chapter Twenty-Eight

“‘Enjoy?’ Is this some sort of punishment?”

Too easy. Anjeline laughed. She stood in the bathing chamber, watching as a rosy stain tinted Rebel’s cheeks with her question. How someone blushing could be so pleasing to watch, she had no idea. But after everything they had been through, she welcomed the sight. Lavish robes draped around them both, concealing their nakedness underneath. Piran had led them through the palace Court, to a sapphire chamber housing a pool. Except, to Rebel’s surprise, the water contained minute creatures.

Anjeline nudged her. “You humans call it a bath.”

Several small waterfalls streamed down the stone walls, kissing together in the pool. Sprites hovered above, filling the waters with oils, flower petals, and an explosion of scents for the ritual bath. “Looks more like I’m about to be made into a sacrificial stew,” Rebel said.

Piran snorted. “If we were to sacrifice someone, they would be more intelligent.” He poked her arm. “Get in. You smell like a dratted bathhouse.”

Alas, Rebel wouldn’t budge. Instead, her grip tightened on her satchel. She squinted furiously at everyone, refusing to dip a toe into the pool or remove her robe.

“Don’t worry.” Piran eyed her. “You have nothing I desire. Though I can’t speak for a jinni.” He waved his hand, a vapid gesture with complete intentions.

Anjeline ignored him, though she imagined Rebel felt more like a feline about to be flung into a witch’s tub. With everything they had been thrown into, Rebel didn’t need to be plunked into one more foreign experience. What she needed was a distraction and motivation.

A wicked grin came over Anjeline. “I’ll go first,” she said.

In one fell swoop, she dropped the robe.

As the air hit her skin, she heard an audible gasp behind her. The robe slid to the floor, revealing the most delicate of golden runes climbing up her arms, around her shoulders, and channeling down her spine to her tailbone.

Anjeline now stood in nothing but what the Creator had made her.

Rebel’s eyes glazed over and her mouth slightly hung, looking as if she’d stopped breathing. She really is too easy. Anjeline internally laughed. So overcome by the beauty of flesh. Still, she would be lying if she didn’t find the expression on Rebel’s face gratifying.

Once she descended into the steaming pool, she released a satisfied moan, all the while aware of Rebel’s stare. Sprites came to fidget in her hair and strung soap about her shoulders. Finally, she looked up into eyes gazing steadily back at her. “Well? Are you coming in?” Rebel mumbled something. “What was that?”

“Turn around, please.”

Anjeline chuckled. “Bashful, are you?”

Nevertheless, as asked, Piran went behind a woven room divider, and Anjeline turned around, not wanting to push anymore. It was clear Rebel had hit her peak of vulnerability.

After a moment, she heard the soft whisper of water parting and slapping the edge of the pool. Then came a whimper. Anjeline swirled back around to Rebel’s scrunched up face as she sank lower in the bath. The sprites swept about, pouring water over Rebel’s hair, every pair of eyes inspecting her, making her slink farther down, leaving her shoulders poking through the surface. Her pendant dangled from her neck, dipping below just where the water cut off any further sight of skin.

And bruises, Anjeline noted, wanting to cup water in her hand and pour it over Rebel’s entire body. She shook the thought away. “The waters will help speed up your healing.”

Rebel ran a hand over the liquid surface, marveling as it gleamed. A sprite landed on her shoulder, fanning its wings against her skin. “Don’t see why we have to go through this torture,” she mumbled. “Why can’t we consult the Fates now?”

“The temple isn’t opened yet.” Piran came out from behind the divider. “One night each year during the Solstitium, the Fate’s temple opens. But one must undergo the purification ritual to enter. You’re lucky you’re here at this time.”

Rebel exhaled irritably. “Still not following.”

“For seven moons, we celebrate before the solstice, giving thanks to the Creator. We bathe in the healing waters and drink of the sacred wine. It purifies our spirit. Ergo…to enter the Fate’s domain, one must first be pure of heart and sterilized.” Piran poured a chalice of water over Rebel’s head.

She sputtered, blowing soap out of her mouth. “Pretty sure my spirit has been thoroughly sterilized,” she snapped as Piran slipped out of the door, laughing all the way.

Anjeline couldn’t help but grin. More creatures fluttered about Rebel’s head, ones with hummingbird wings and jewel-colored eyes, followed shortly by more sprites—lavender ones, midnight blue ones—until several of them covered her. Rebel stiffened, certainly feeling the tiny hands washing her hair, lifting her arms and scrubbing underneath. She growled, hugging one arm around her body, not used to the way she was being cared for. The satchel remained beside her, sitting on the ledge of the pool with her arm draped atop it, as if at any moment, it might be ripped away.

Whatever her special wish was, it must be something worth more than Anjeline knew. She shooed a few sprites and put a hand on Rebel’s, sensing her aura calm. “No one here can make off with the vessel.”

“Says the jinni who was stolen by a common human,” Rebel said. There was a certain amount of vulnerability hidden behind her gaze, more than her usual gentleness, and it made Anjeline’s insides smolder with all sorts of things.

“Rebel, relax.” She put a finger underneath Rebel’s chin, lifting her head so their eyes met. “It’s safe, Faddi.”

After a second of silence, Rebel released her satchel, letting the sprites set it on a nearby table to remain dry. But those bright eyes kept shifting from her bag to Anjeline, noting the distance. She could feel Rebel’s dislike of the water space separating them. Being here, within the center of magic, had allowed Anjeline to stroll about without fear of the vessel’s perimeter wrenching her back within, which meant she could leave Rebel’s side. For the last several days, they had been practically glued to each other, so much it now felt as though something was missing.

“How can,” Rebel began, confusion wrinkling her brow. “you be far from the vase now? From me?”

Was that an invitation?

Anjeline waded in the pool, coming mere inches from Rebel’s face, and watched her take a breath. She brushed soap fizz aside and said, “Because of the magic this place holds, the vessel’s markings don’t have such an enthrall on my bonds.”

“What about your power?”

“Still restrained for wishes. Though in this place, I can walk a little freer.” The burden of the bonds usually making Anjeline bow underneath it was dull, faint now, letting little sparks of herself dance through, as it had when they’d first crossed the threshold into the Court. But it mattered not. She was still imprisoned. She sighed, letting a heat halo surround her, and her runes shimmered. Wonder filled Rebel’s gaze and she warmed a little to see it.

“You can touch them,” she said.

“I…” Rebel blushed with the intensity of a thousand suns.

Charming. Anjeline felt an overwhelming desire to see how many shades of pink her cheeks could become. She didn’t stop herself this time, but instead slid her hand over Rebel’s, taking in every detail. Slender fingers created for lockpicking, for hiding things from the eye, marked by a few tiny scars. Rebel stared at her hand, not used to the sensation.

But Anjeline understood, knew the feeling well. She never realized how starved for affection one could be until someone touched her, held her hand a bit tighter, and she found that she didn’t want to let go. They had both grown an impenetrable skin around themselves to avoid being hurt. But it had come at a lonely cost. She half expected Rebel to pull away and felt a rush when those fingers trailed up her own arm, making her runes brighten.

“Do the runes mean something?” Rebel’s fingers traced one.

She shivered. “They are unique to each Jinn, like your fingerprint. They tell our ranking. Our magic.”

“And your feathers?”

“They’re a part of my true form. But now, because of the bonds, they rarely surface unless I’m trying to shape-shift or feeling overwhelmed. If I centralize my magic enough, I might make them appear despite Nero’s mark…” Anjeline swallowed. She clenched her eyes, but the flashes of memories came. They clung to her insides like a film. For this brief moment—here, with Rebel—she’d almost forgotten about her pain. About her vengeance, not just for the souls lost, but for every Jinn captured. For every torn heart she could lay at the magician’s feet. When she glanced up, gentle eyes were fixed on her.

“He can’t control you anymore,” Rebel said.

It amazed Anjeline how she was able to read her thoughts so easily. “How do you…”

“We may be different, but we’ve both been tormented.” Rebel’s features acquired a solemn hue. “People who try to control you always overestimate their power and underestimate the little guy. Or girl.” She punctuated her words with a dismissive chuckle.

But there was magic in them.

Anjeline felt it stir in her core, and now looked at Rebel without the thickness of clothing. Beyond her svelte frame, she had the build of someone deprived of a lifetime of proper meals. Anjeline chastised herself for not conjuring Rebel more biscuits, feeling outrage at how such a wonderful soul could’ve been abandoned.

“How could someone just leave you on a doorstep?” she uttered.

“I…” Rebel tensed. “I’m not sure my parents had a choice.”

Her insides flared as she watched grief bleed into Rebel’s aura, felt it reaching across the distance between them like some sort of spell, weighing her down. She couldn’t help but want to diminish it. She touched Rebel’s cheek. “You deserved better.”

The grief dissolved as a gleam entered those eyes. “But then I never would have met you,” Rebel said. “I used to think no one cared about what happened to me. Then I found out the magic I grew up wishing for…was right in front of me.”

There it was again.

A spark surfaced in the corner of Anjeline’s heart. Rebel had somehow mastered the ability to unlock anything, including something she thought she’d lost. Hope. That was the thing about Rebel… She actually believed in magic. Believed it could make things better.

“Solomon believed like you,” Anjeline voiced. “Eventually, he found wishing was useless. Miracles happened without the need of magic.” She slid fingers over the bruises on Rebel’s arms. It would be so easy to offer healing, if she weren’t bound. “I want you to know, I was—I am—more powerful than this.” She twisted her cuffed wrist. “Than conjuring mundane things. When I was free—”

“I bet you could set the world aflame.” Rebel touched her hand. “You’ve been forced into a cage, but you still have your claws. And we will find a way to free you. Then we’ll find him.”

Rebel gazed at her as if there were other worlds in her eyes. No one had ever looked at Anjeline in that way, not even her own kin. In Rebel’s presence, she didn’t feel like a prize to be taken. She felt like something treasured. The connection that had grown between them seemed to swell two sizes, and she thought she saw something more in Rebel’s gaze, making her spirit flame with an unreasonable heat.

Suddenly, Rebel’s eyes widened.

A yelp followed, either from laughter or despair. “Hey! Make them stop!” She splashed at the waters below. “They’re around parts they shouldn’t be around!”

Several giggling sprites retreated from the pool.

Laughter erupted from Anjeline. “What parts are those?”

“Funny, fire girl.” Rebel splattered water, dowsing her.

With a cupped hand, Anjeline splashed back and giggled…actually giggled.

Solomon, I’m acting like a flummoxed girl. Here was the opportunity to be herself for one moment, and to simply be enough. She’d learned to never let anyone get close for this reason, afraid they might see her vulnerable parts, see what was inside and use it to control her. But Rebel hadn’t wanted that. She had found not some human monster as Madrath had taught her to see, but rather a reflection of herself. Their alliance became more than an agreement, something that kindled the sleeping flame inside of her. She swallowed over it, wondering if this was how it felt to let someone in. To care. A dangerous feeling.

Rebel noticed her staring. “What?”

“No one’s ever made me laugh like that.” Anjeline caught her breath. Her blood scorched her veins with a feeling so sweet her insides dissolved. Rebel had touched her in so many ways, all without ever using a hand. “Guess you just bring out my fiery side.”

An understanding smirk worked over Rebel’s face, and she leaned in, nudging a shoulder with Anjeline’s. “Are you telling me the mighty Dalil of Prophets, Daughter of the Scorching Winds…has a soft spot for a human?”

Anjeline let her smile speak for her. “Is this you trying to be charming?”

Rebel’s brow inched up. “You’re pretending you’re not charmed?”

Another bubble of joy slipped from Anjeline, and she pressed her lips to Rebel’s cheek, letting them linger there with her heat. With her promise.

“What was that for?” Rebel inhaled, looking dazed in the best way.

“Everything. And your virtue.” She raised a finger and tapped Rebel’s nose. A hunger emerged in those gentle eyes, and for a moment, she wanted nothing more than to feed it.

The sound of the door drew them apart.

“We have other things to cover your virtue.” Piran grinned, carrying garments.

Anjeline barely listened as he described the various threads he had in mind for the solstice. She was unable to concentrate on anything but Rebel, feeling a sudden surge of heat swell within, taking a hold of every part of her. But something else was forming, far louder in her mind and deeper than Madrath would ever want her to admit. Just then Rebel’s expression changed, her lips twisted, and she rubbed at her upper chest.

“Is it your heart?” Anjeline asked.

Rebel shook her head, but the hollows under her eyes had become darker than before. The armor of stoicism she wore was breaking, cracks appearing. Whatever reason her heart beat so erratically, she wasn’t willing to speak of it. Yet. And Anjeline couldn’t help but feel a weary dread. Something was terribly wrong with her thief.