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Chapter 12

The Life of a Doll

~DOLLY~

Current Day

A creak that would usually add to the charming, cottagecore vibes of the treehouse now feels like the climax of a stalker romance gone wrong. I spin to face whoever is in the jungle behind me, the wet of the tropics clinging to my skin as if a storm is brewing. I can feel Arrik’s presence close.

But it isn’t Arrik standing there.

And it isn’t Velis.

Nor Beckham. Nor Amoira. Nor Daddy. Nor Jeb.

Wings. White and angelic. Strapped to the back of the prince’s cousin, who asked Velis how much it would be to buy me, his hand bandaged in a scarlet scarf where Vel’s magic singed him, and his attire now a baggy white jumpsuit.

Davii, was it?

Shit! Of course someone in the prince’s inner circle would have records of the gala guests, where they hail from, and where they might be temporarily staying! It’s not like we’re in some uncharted location. Sure, people might not find us through magical means, but they can still track us down with good old-fashioned research—which, now that I think about it, isn’t something most djinn would bother with. But if the Celestials really have that much of a connection to Earth, maybe we need to start dealing with them like humans.

This feels a bit like human trafficking.

“You’re behind all this? Who even are you?” I ask, actually surprised, because none of these puzzle pieces seem to fit together. “You’re the one calling me ‘Lolly’? The one who handed me Arrik’s lamp ?”

The Celestial barely registers what I’m saying. “I had nothing to do with any of that. I’m just here to steal you for the prince.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “The prince is behind this?”

Disappointing, especially after Velis thought they’d hit it off.

“Actually, just me and the boys,” he corrects, as if kidnapping is a normal thing for them. “Thought you’d make a fine birthday gift for Lyrian. He couldn’t take you himself at the gala for political reasons, but if someone else gifts you to him, he lacks all responsibility.”

Oh.

Okay, well. Honestly? I’m not even all that worried. I’ve been kidnapped enough times by now that this nineteen-year-old angel with a bum hand doesn’t exactly send shivers down my spine. Not compared to people like Amoira. Velis is an all-powerful laird. And Arrik... unless it was my imagination, he’s here too. I feel them both, close by on another island. Whatever the gorgons did to detain them, Velis at the very least should be able to summon himself to me as his master. And... maybe Arrik too now? The fact that neither has shown up yet likely means they’re unconscious.

I just need to stall.

“Where are they? My laird and my... laird’s brother,” I ask, stumbling over the latter.

“So that’s who he is.” The Celestial digests this, like he’s been trying to figure out what a tattooed rogue was doing with djinn nobility. “That one put up a fight. We tossed him in a holding cell. Your laird’s there too, being detained while we get a signature from him.”

“Signature?” I echo. On the other island, I sense Vel’s blinking dot begin to stir. Arrik’s been awake this whole time. I feel him moving closer to Velis, checking on his brother.

I know it now. That’s really him.

My stomach drops—I can’t tell whether from relief or fear.

“Not your concern,” the rogue angel says dismissively. “And if you’re thinking your lord is coming for you, he isn’t.”

“Why’s that?” I challenge, struggling to hide the rise in my voice over the expectation he’ll be here any minute.

Davii gestures to the roof, where another winged Celestial crouches with what looks like a mechanical crossbow, then to a third hidden in the branches, similarly armed. “Because of them.

“You’re going to kill him?!” I blurt, my expectation quickly turning into apprehension.

“No. Killing a lord would cause too much political trouble. We’re planning to kill you—if he shows up.”

Well, that seems senseless.

“It’s called a djinn death trap. Never used one before, but it’s how we defended ourselves in ancient times. For this layout, fate shouldn’t let him use djinn magic to reach you if it means you die because of it, and he should know better than to try. The only way it works is if the threat is real. You’ll be dead before he can act.”

There’s no way Velis will let that happen.

“You don’t think Velis’s noble family will care that you’ve stolen his wife?” I scoff—though yes, this situation is starting to feel a little harrowing.

“Maybe, but you’re not his wife. We checked; you don’t even have a djinn-world license. Meaning you’re just a glorified mistress. No noble djinn family would care about losing a pet human if it pleases a prince. We’re doing them a favor. The djinn government will see it as a worthwhile sacrifice for maintaining relations. ”

I was wrong before. It always sucks to be human.

“So why haven’t you or your gorgon henchmen dragged me off yet?” I ask, assuming the murmurs rising from the glowing vegetation below the balcony are from said henchmen.

“We need you to retrieve your travel documents. We can’t sneak you onto palace grounds without them, and we want this to be a surprise.”

“Are you kidding me?” I snap. These are new levels of objectivity, and my patience is running thin. So casually talking about smuggling me like I’m cargo! I have no idea where Velis left the paperwork, but I would assume the void or his vessel—both of which only a djinn can access.

The nice thing about dealing with an enemy who can’t read minds is that I can actually scheme.

The rogue angel spreads his wings threateningly, their span much wider than his outstretched arms and wide enough to block the rising light. “Where are your papers?”

I nod toward the treehouse, shrouded in flowers of protection, woven from the magic of every race that’s ever visited this land—fingers crossed, it’s enough to keep these assholes out. That’s probably why the place hasn’t been ransacked already. “They’re inside. Under the mattress.”

Easy. I’ll run in there, where they can’t follow, and wait for Velis to snatch me up.

But Davii has other plans. He grabs me by the back of the neck and shoves me toward the open doorway, blocking the invisible line he can’t cross. “Invite me inside.”

“Only Velis can,” I lie smoothly. “I’m just an unregistered human, after all.”

I’m betting on the fact that this lackey, and the prince’s entire posse, are as green and spoiled as they look. Their elevated status has likely numbed their critical thinking skills.

Davii whistles, and moments later, the shuffling of jungle foliage brings one of the gorgons that attacked Velis and Arrik. He’s holding a collar tied to an absurdly long leash .

“I’m not wearing that.”

The Celestial swivels his wrist and unlatches a hatchet from his belt. “I’d prefer to gift you to my cousin undamaged, but it’s your choice. A disfigured human is still better than none.”

“I’ll take the collar.”

He tucks the hatchet away.

With one hand clumsy from the bandage, the troubled young Celestial fastens the leather band around my neck, and the gorgon secures it with a lock. A loop connects me to a chain, leading to a winch, where another snake-dreaded gorgon stands ready.

“You have ten minutes.”

“Or you’re going to reel me in?” I assume. “Is this just normal in your realm? Kidnapping human tourists and using your privilege to cover it up?”

His single dark earring glints, and his eyebrows—several shades darker than his nearly shaved white hair—dip like caterpillars at my accusation. “It sounds bad when you put it like that. Not usually. I need a big win right now to get back in the prince’s favor. I messed up.”

“What did you do?”

He says nothing, then squints at me. “Do people usually confide in you?”

That’s a strange question.

Before I can ask, he continues, “You’ll have a better life with the prince than as a djinn laird’s lady, you know. He’s not a beast like his sister. He’s a collector—he doesn’t damage his toys.”

Firstly, does every magical family have an evil sibling? Second, I refuse to get sucked into another complicated family tree. I’ll ask no more questions.

“Ten minutes,” he grunts.

I nod and start toward the doorway, but his hand catches me.

Davii’s eyes reflect the light strangely as he holds my wrist, his grip almost pleading. “I need this. If I don’t deliver, I’ll never get back in his good graces.”

Well, I need to not be gifted to a foreign prince .

“I’ll look for the papers.”

He releases me, letting the chain slide through his hand as I step into the safety of the treehouse. Or maybe not so safe, considering there’s an angel with a crossbow stationed at every opening.

“But what’s the point of them?” I ask aloud. “If this place is magically protected?”

Davii answers with a touch of condescension. “That’s the thing about djinn. Predatory species are extremely arrogant. Their barriers let clothing and belongings pass, but they don’t block physical objects. They’re designed to stop magical attacks and keep out unwanted beings, but djinn don’t see physical projectiles as a threat.”

“Is that true?” I ask, watching his face for tells.

“Think what you want,” Davii says. “Nine minutes left.”

They do have those freaky-fast reflexes and reactive defensive magic. And literally every djinn I’ve met has been at least a little arrogant about their magical prowess. I could very much see Velis overlooking a loophole like that.

I need to take cover before I wish for one of them to come to me, and I can’t help wondering why neither has anyway. Maybe they know there’s a trap waiting.

I continue through the treehouse, wishing I’d picked a different hiding spot, as the mattress is visible from the doorway where Davii is standing, letting the chain feed through his fingers like an obvious warning. This may be a simple task, but for me, it’s an exercise in acting. I am one of those people who is extremely awkward when opening presents. I forget how to behave like a normal person.

That’s how I feel as I dip to dig beneath the mattress, pretending to fumble and come up surprised and empty-handed. Which I’m sure is overdone and suspicious. I keep my eyes on the task, checking the other side of the mattress. And then the bedside drawer, trying to hide my panic. Because now I’m worried—if they’re waiting for a safe opening, there really is nowhere safe. This tree is full of magical little hollow openings to let the jungle air waft through. Even the closet has a window.

But maybe in there, I can find a dark corner out of view.

“He must have moved it,” I call to Davii, planning to grab something sharp as I head to the kitchenette and look through the silverware drawer, slipping a small paring knife into my hoodie pocket as I kneel to look under the sink.

“Why would it be in the kitchen?” Davii calls back.

“Genies are always hiding their bottles in strange places. It’s not unusual. It could also be in the closet.”

Davii doesn’t appear alarmed, and I assume that means there’s a guard looking down in there.

We have a spacious walk-in closet with a round sitting area in the center, where a tree grows up and out through the roof, never shedding any debris. A skylight above bathes the area in natural light each morning, illuminating a circular space lined with perfectly tailored clothing, skin elixirs, and makeup, all neatly arranged around elegant vanities. I have no idea how all these clothes got here, but each piece is custom-made precisely to my size.

It’s not like it’s a secret spot—you can see it from the roof. And yet, strangely, there’s no guard.

I really feel like there should be a guard here.

Regardless, this would be the perfect time to wish Velis back. Yet I stall. I can sense that Velis is awake. If we’re still tethered, he should be capable of calling himself to me, even without a wish, thanks to those ‘terms.’

So why hasn’t he?

Maybe I’m testing him. Maybe I’m testing our newest enemy: fate . If he doesn’t show up by the one-minute warning, I’ll wish for him.

I settle at the back, beneath the dawning light filtering through the skylight, and hide among the rows of clothing. Using the knife stolen from the kitchen, I saw at the collar around my neck, my knees pressed into the slack of the leash to prevent Davii from noticing the shaking.

But the leather is tough, and the longer I wait for the appearance of either genie, the more I worry Velis can no longer teleport to me for some reason. Are they injured? Fuck, I hope not. Even if these Celestials somehow get the travel papers and get me to the castle, Velis and Arrik will never let them keep me there. I just need to hang on to all my limbs and be smart about my movements until something changes in my favor.

I brush the moisture in my eyes onto my shoulder and focus on cutting the leather collar around my neck. Wearing it feels gross and objectifying, more than Arrik’s ever felt. His were always something different, like taking my wrist in a crowded place to keep me close and safe.

“Halfway there,” Davii’s voice calls from the adjacent room. “You have five minutes.”

“I’m looking through our luggage,” I lie, more vigorously cutting at the band around my neck.

My heart is beating faster now. I’ve been graced with this opening above us sans angel thug, but who knows when said angel thug may reappear. It’s time to bite the bullet, admit I’m a teensy bit afraid of the outcome, and wish for Velis to come to me.

“Velis, I wish—”

Before I can even get it out, he’s there, crouched in front of me, breathing hard through his nose, with his arms constricted around me and his face buried in my hair. “ Master. ”

A feeling like melting butter washes down my stomach.

Relief. Affection.

“Oh my god, oh my god. I love you.” I breathe into his sweaty neck, my hair matted to my face from the night and tears I didn’t expect because I’m so over all this bullshit, and I realize I may have been too idealistic in my approach to throwing myself one hundred percent into fantasy worlds. “Does this mean we’re still tethered? ”

“We are,” he whispers. His arms flex around me; he’s not showing me his face. “I’m sorry I let this happen.”

I release him. “I don’t blame you. It’s not even your family this time. A group of angel boys went rogue and want to steal me to gift me to the prince? You don’t have magical hidden camera shows, do you? Because it’s almost too bizarre to be real. They sent me in here to look for travel documents—”

“HEY!” A voice cuts through the air from beyond the closet, where we sit tucked under rows of summer dresses.

“There’s a bunch of shit to go through!” I call back. “Vel’s an over-packer.”

Not untrue.

Velis sneaks a glance through the opening in the closet door, scanning our surroundings. Based on his drifting eyes, he also notices the lack of a weapon above us. “The travel papers are in my vessel,” he whispers.

“Good. But next time, I should probably have access to them so I don’t feel like an unaccompanied child. Not saying I would have handed them over. I was stalling.”

“That makes a lot of sense.”

“And Arrik? Is he—”

I stop because Vel’s energy has just shifted, and he’s looking past me like he’s seeing a ghost he knew was coming.

There’s a creak. And I feel it.

Like it’s sucking all sound from the room.

Like there’s always been a ringing in my ears that has finally just stopped.

Like a magnet pulling the hairs of my body toward the person Vel’s exchanging unhappy glances with.

“ Hey, Master. ”