Page 19 of Bewitched By the Djinn (The Bewitching Hour #8)

His lips turn down. “It was at first. But my uncle knew it was necessary, that she had to be better, sharper, more composed than anyone else. He made it clear she couldn’t afford mistakes and I was a distraction.”

I can’t help a snort. It’s clear he loves his uncle, but ouch. I would never send Kevin away from Jackie. No matter how sick Jackie got. They need each other.

Bennet nods, as if I’ve said some of that aloud. “Maybe it was too much. And maybe that is part of what prompted her to flee. He was always a bit harder on her than on me, since she was older and the heir. The expectations were higher.”

His shoulders are hunched like the weight of memory sits heavier than he expected, and the shadows under his eyes seem darker in the soft lamplight.

“What about you? It must have been difficult for you to be apart from her as well, even without the same expectations being forced on you.”

He blinks. “I suppose so. I never thought about it.” He glances toward the hallway. “Your siblings, they are close. It’s a good thing.” He hesitates, his brow furrowing. “Helen and I were like that once.”

“It hasn’t always been easy. Jackie takes up a lot of our time and attention, but Kevin’s never once acted like he resents it.

He loves her. Looks out for her. They’re good kids.

They’re kind.” My throat tightens. “That’s because our parents were too.

They left us with something solid. I just picked up where they left off. Or tried to.”

“They are lucky to have you.” His eyes are too intense.

I squirm and wave a hand. “So, tell me more about Aetheria. The women in your kingdom, they can be rulers?”

“Yes. The eldest sibling inherits the throne, regardless of gender. Is that not how it is in your world?”

I wrinkle my nose. “Not entirely. Men are mostly in charge, although there have been some female rulers, queens and presidents and prime ministers, things like that. Men are physically stronger and so they’ve been basically running the show forever.”

Bennet frowns, considering this. “In Aetheria, men are also physically stronger, but women usually hold more magic. And they bear children, which makes them even more vital. Our people struggle with conception. Matches are often made based on compatibility for producing offspring or solidifying political alliances.”

I curl my legs under me. “That sounds wildly unromantic.”

He shrugs. “It depends. My parents’ marriage was arranged, but they loved each other deeply.” His lips quirk slightly. “Eventually. At first it was a diplomatic nightmare.”

I inch closer to him. “What happened?”

Bennet leans back against the couch, rubbing his jaw. “My father was arrogant and stuffy and my mother was a bit of a hellion.”

I raise a brow. “Hellion?”

“Wild,” he corrects. “She did what she wanted, when she wanted, and had absolutely no patience for politics or propriety. Helen is much the same. My father, on the other hand, was the definition of responsible. He thought rules were sacred, duty was everything, and that a queen should be graceful and composed at all times.”

A draft hits the back of my neck and I shiver. I should have grabbed a sweater. “Sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

He gathers my legs into his lap before covering them, tucking a blanket around me.

“Oh, it was,” he continues. It’s almost like he isn’t even aware of his own movements, pampering me without thought.

“They were a disaster wrapped in calamity and then set on fire. Their first official event as a married couple, she got into an argument with a visiting ambassador over dinner, flipped the entire table, and challenged him to a duel.”

I bark out a laugh. “What?”

“And she won.”

“Oh my God. I love her.”

He grins. “My father was mortified. He called her reckless, undignified, a menace to the throne. She called him a prissy little windbag with a stick up his arse.”

I’m grinning with him now. “So how did they go from that to being in love?”

His thumb rubs my knee absently, heat from his palm sinking into me even through the blanket.

“Their caravan was attacked by mercenaries on the way to visit Mother’s parents.

The guards were overwhelmed, and my father, in all his royal wisdom, started shouting about strategy.

My mother, meanwhile, jumped off her horse and punched one of the robbers in the face. ”

My mouth pops open.

“And my father saw her fighting—truly fighting with skill—and he stopped barking orders, stopped trying to control the situation, and for the first time in his life, he followed someone else’s lead.

He fought with her, side by side, and together they took down half the bandits before the rest fled. ”

“And that’s when they knew they were in love?”

“That’s when my father realized,” Bennet corrects. “My mother had figured it out weeks before but was waiting for him to catch up.” A soft smiles lights his face. “According to her, the moment he jumped into battle, she thought, ‘Oh, finally, he’s stopped talking.’”

I chuckle. “I think I would have liked them.”

Bennet’s smile drops. “They bickered until the day they died. But they were inseparable. Fiercely loyal. A force to be reckoned with.” He looks down, expression blank. “And they loved each other. Even if it took a war for them to admit it.”

I lean further into the couch, resting my head against the back, suddenly exhausted, but I don’t want to stop this conversation.

Not only is it fascinating, his voice is so soothing.

My thoughts and worries are a distant drum, barely audible.

The rest of the world may as well no longer exist outside the glow of this small room.

“What about Helen’s fiancé? Do they know each other? Any sparks either way?”

“They’ve met, but she never told me she was so opposed to the marriage she would rather flee to another realm. If she had, I—” He cuts himself off. “I don’t know what I would have done.”

“Why do you think she never said anything to you? About the marriage?”

For a long moment, he doesn’t answer. Then, finally, he says, “It was my fault. After my parents died, I shut down. Helen tried to reach out, to talk to me about their death, but I didn’t even want to think about it.

I was angry at everyone. And then Uncle sent me on my first fostering before I could fix it. ”

“How did you get past the grief?” It’s an honest question. My parents have been missing for three years, and still I find myself mired in dark thoughts, anger, denial, confusion. It’s a long dark tunnel with no end in sight.

“Fighting. Sparring with the guards at the keep.”

“Ah. You chose violence. The guards didn’t have an issue throwing punches at their boss?”

Bennet huffs. “The head guardsman didn’t give them a choice, though if Uncle Hugh had gotten wind of what we were up to, it would have ended in disaster for all of us.”

I tilt my head. “Your uncle didn’t want you to learn to fight? Even though your parents were clearly skilled at it?”

“Uncle Hugh has some old-fashioned ideals. Plus, losing his sister and brother-in-law in such a violent manner made him extra paranoid. He wanted me to be a good statesman, and to stay safe. But I needed an outlet. And I found one, or I should say it found me.” His lips quirk.

I can’t drag my eyes away from him. The tilt of his mouth and the spark in his eye should be illegal. Definitely hazardous to my heart rate.

Ignore all that.

A silence settles between us and I slump deeper into the sofa, drowsiness sweeping over me.

He reaches over, brushing my hair behind my ear, his fingers trailing a warm path down my jawline. “Perhaps you should get some rest, princess.”

I snort. “I am the farthest thing from a princess you can get.”

He’s right, though. I should go back to my room.

But it’s so far, and I’m warm and comfortable right here, like floating in a syrupy haze.

For the first time in ages it’s like I could close my eyes and actually sleep and not lie awake with my thoughts or be jarred into heart-pounding alertness by all the fears and worries that won’t leave me, even in slumber.

“What does Aetheria look like?” Truly, it’s an excuse to get him to keep talking. He could read me the tax code and it would be riveting. It’s gotta be the accent.

“Well, let’s see.” His thumb rubs against my leg again in a soothing motion and my lids drift shut.

“Aetheria is divided into four kingdoms. I am from Zehraya, land of the jann. My home is full of endless emerald valleys and sprinkled with ancient stone cities. Thalassara is where the giants reside, the marid. Their kingdom is near the sea, rich with waterfalls and wildlife. Then there is Duskharan, land of the shaytan. Their kingdom has twisting labyrinthine forests and crimson rivers that glow in the dark. They are a very secretive people. Our spies struggle to obtain any information on their royals. Finally, the ifrit live in Ashkaran, a land of volcanic mountains and scorched canyons. The ifrit live in obsidian fortresses carved into cliffs, at least that is what they say...”

He continues speaking, but the words stop registering. Only the tenor of his voice, the soothing cadence, penetrates my consciousness.

For the first time in a long time, I fall asleep without worries crowding my mind.