Page 10 of Bound by Wishes (Enchanted Deceptions #1)

I was led into a large room that was massive and airy, with high ceilings supported by elegant columns embellished with swirls of gold. Plush cushions and low sofas were scattered across the floor, inviting me to relax.

“Make yourself comfortable, Highness. I will make haste in preparing your rooms.” Leon scurried off like I had lit a literal fire under his butt.

The room flooded with servants as I sank onto the silken pillows. They crowded around me, each eager to serve. The attention was making me uncomfortable, but I remembered Ranen’s warning about looking like I belonged, so I leaned back into the pillows, allowing them to fan me with feathered fans and cater to my every whim. I drew the line when one servant tried to feed me fruit. I took the bowl from her, appalled by the idea of someone putting food in my mouth. Thankfully, she didn’t argue and instead poured me a refreshing glass of water.

The pampering went on until I was past the point of being aggravated with it. At least Ranen was no longer perched on my shoulder, squawking orders in my ear like a bird. I glanced around, wondering where he had gone off to.

Leon walked in and bowed low. “Your room is ready, Highness.”

I rose from the pillows, more than happy for a chance at some peace and quiet. Leon led me down the halls in silence before stopping in front of intricately carved double doors. He pushed the doors open and then stepped out of the way for me to enter.

I stalled in the doorframe, completely mesmerized by the luxury and elegance. The room was massive, with high arched ceilings. Richly woven tapestries hung on the walls.

A grand canopied bed dominated the center of the room, draped in luxurious silks and velvets in deep jewel tones—emerald, sapphire, and onyx. The bed's wooden frame was intricately carved with motifs and inlaid with precious stones. Plush cushions and embroidered pillows were carefully arranged on the bed. I was so exhausted, I couldn’t wait to dive into the silky sheets.

“Is there anything else you require, Your Highness?” Leon interrupted my exploring.

“No, I wish to be left alone to rest,” I replied firmly.

Leon bowed before closing the door behind him.

As I stepped into the room, I noticed the floor was covered with thick handwoven rugs that felt like I was walking on clouds. Delicate curtains of fine, sheer fabric framed the arched windows, allowing a soft breeze that carried the scent of jasmine and rose from the gardens outside to flow through. I ventured closer to the balcony, completely amazed by the sheer size of it and the beautifully carved stone balustrades.

In one corner of the room, a dressing area was set up with a large mirror framed in gold. An assortment of perfumes, oils, and cosmetics were meticulously arranged on a carved wooden vanity, along with delicate combs and brushes made from ivory and silver. I walked over to it, running my fingers across the finery.

“Are you pleased with my rooms?” a deep, sensual voice rumbled behind me, and I nearly jumped out of my skin as I twirled around.

Ranen was stretched out across my bed, black smoke still settling from where he had materialized. His hands were lazily placed behind his head, one leg bent at the knee and the other stretched out. The sight of a genie sprawled across my bed, coupled with the intimacy of being alone with him, caused my fear to spike tenfold.

I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “Can you get out of my bed? I’m tired.”

A smile brushed across Ranen’s face, igniting a wicked gleam in his dark eyes. “This is my bed, ya amar, and my rooms. Looks like you’re going to have to learn to share.”

“I’m not sharing a bed with you,” I growled. “I’ll sleep outside first.”

Ranen poofed before me so quickly my heart lodged in my throat. He lifted his hand as if to touch my face, and a tremor coursed down my spine. Ranen’s hand slowly fell back to his side. “Are you still that shaken up from last night?” The change in his tone from mocking to serious caught me off guard, and my gaze climbed to meet his.

“Yes,” I lied. My fear of men had intensified last night, but the base of the problem was buried so deep within me that nothing could ever uproot it.

Ranen’s eyes searched my face before he took a step back. “You can have my bed,” he said.

Relief washed over me. “Where will you sleep?” I asked, my voice still tight with concern.

“In that cursed lamp right beside you,” Ranen grumbled.

And then the fear returned. “Can’t you find your own room?” I asked.

“Unfortunately not.” He sighed. “I don’t trust anyone around here, so until these shackles are off, I’m not leaving your side.”

I rolled my eyes. “How gallant. Your concern for me is touching.”

Ranen shrugged.

A timid knock on the wooden doors of my room halted the conversation. Ranen vanished from sight as I turned to the door. “Enter.”

A small-framed woman with flowing dark hair and olive skin walked into the room and bowed low before slowly rising. “I am Arwa,” she said in a timid voice. “I am to be your personal servant.”

“Nice to meet you.” I smiled at her, even though she refused to break eye contact with the rug.

“I am to collect you and bring you to the bathing pool. All of the marriage candidates are to bathe before the feast tonight,” Arwa said.

“Bathing pool,” I repeated. Arwa’s head bowed even lower, if that was at all possible. “Will you wait for me outside? I’ll be along shortly.”

“Of course,” she yelped and ran from the room like a scolded dog.

I turned back around as Ranen reappeared. “Does that mean I have to bathe with other people?” I squeaked.

“Not other people. Women of nobility. There are no men of any kind allowed anywhere near the bathing pool,” Ranen clarified, making himself comfortable on my bed again.

“Your Highness, we really should get going. You mustn’t be late for the feast.” Arwa’s mouse-like voice beckoned.

“Yes, sayyida. You mustn’t be late.” The cocky grin that Ranen wore so well reappeared.

“I really hate you,” I hissed as I snatched the door open and stomped into the hall. Arwa recoiled as if I were about to strike her, so I quickly softened the scowl on my face. “I’m ready.”

Arwa led me down a winding hallway. I was afraid to engage her in conversation because I feared the act would make her die of fright. As jumpy as she was, I wondered if the servants here were abused.

Arwa rounded a corner, and the bathing pool opened up before us. Steam rose in delicate tendrils, curling and twisting in the warm, humid air, carrying with it rich, intoxicating scents. Plush cushions and settees were scattered around the poolside, making it look more like a parlor than a bathroom.

Arwa seemed flustered that I was frozen in the doorway. My gaze snared on the women in the pool who were chatting and laughing. One lounged on the marble steps leading into the pool, her auburn hair cascading down in wet, glistening strands, while the other two reclined on the cushioned benches. They were all lovely, each flawless in every way.

Arwa began to tug at my pants, but I pulled away and rushed back down the hall.

“Ranen. I can’t do this.” My heart thundered as I called for him.

“Can’t do what, sayyida?” His voice was groggy and slightly irritated, like I had awoken him from a nap.

“I can’t undress in front of these women. Have you seen them?” Panic rose up my throat. “One look at me and they’ll know I don’t belong.”

“You’re not here to impress them, only Razoul,” Ranen said.

“I’m not a princess.” I huffed. “I have tan lines from the sun and scars.” Both on the inside and out, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.

“Do you want me to fix your skin and make it flawless, or do you want to own up to who you are and walk in there with your head held high?” Ranen questioned. I paused considering his words. “But let me be clear,” he added, his tone darkening. “If you insist on altering your appearance, I will do it, but it will anger me greatly.”

“Why would you be angry?” I asked.

“Because you are a perfect little disaster," he said with a dark chuckle. "Nothing about you should be altered, especially to impress someone else.” His tone dripped with a sinister charm.

I inhaled deeply, straightened my shoulders, and walked back into the bathing chamber. All eyes turned to me, but I ignored them as I motioned for Arwa to undress me. She peeled my clothing off piece by piece, each layer falling away to reveal more of my skin. Mortification stung my cheeks, the heat of embarrassment spreading across my face as I stood exposed under their scrutinizing gazes.

Whispers erupted from the other marriage candidates as I slowly lowered myself into the pool. The water was warm and inviting, a soothing contrast to the cold, judgmental stares of the others who occupied the pool. I glanced around, challenging them with my own stare. Their murmurs finally died down to an uncomfortable silence.

Arwa fell to her knees beside me, pouring a concoction of oils and perfumes into the water, and then used a plush cloth to delicately scrub my skin. The potent combination of the sweet fragrances and the humid air started to give me a headache and reminded me of how tired I was. Once Arwa was finished, I rose from the water and ventured into the welcoming embrace of a fluffy towel. Arwa motioned for me to follow her back into the hallway.

“I’m not walking around in just a towel,” I protested, gripping the edge of the fabric tightly. “What if there are men lurking about?”

Arwa bowed at the waist before me. “No man is allowed in this part of the palace during the ceremonial bathing, Your Highness,” Arwa explained. “They would be beheaded.”

Oh, good! I’d have to inform the palace guards that an egotistical genie was lying on my bed at this very moment. I’m sure they could find a nice guillotine in Ranen’s size.

I hugged the towel tighter around my body as I followed Arwa back toward my room. She opened my door, and I peered inside to ensure Ranen was nowhere in sight. Thankfully, he had vanished, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still in the room somewhere.

Arwa motioned for me to be seated in front of the vanity. As she busied herself with pulling out my clothing and shoes, I glanced around the room, looking for Ranen.

“Where are you?” I whispered, trying to keep Arwa from hearing me.

“I’m not in the room anymore, if that is your concern,” he answered. It was certainly my concern. “Tell your servant to put that trash back into the wardrobe. I’ve already picked out what you need to wear. It’s behind the dressing screen.”

Curiosity made me rise from the vanity seat and venture to the changing screen. Draped over a settee was a gown fit for a queen. The pink fabric was a delicate silk chiffon, flowing like liquid rose petals, each layer slightly darker than the one above, creating a beautiful ombre effect that deepened to a rich, dusky rose at the hem.

I reached out to touch it but paused, fearing I would ruin a gown so lovely. “I’m not really a pink kind of girl,” I admitted to Ranen.

Ranen’s voice rumbled in my head. “That wouldn’t have been my choice either. It doesn’t bring out the color of your eyes, but Razoul likes his women soft and feminine.”

My eyes? He had noticed the color of my eyes?

“Then we’re in trouble,” I said, pressing my lips into a thin line. “Because I am neither soft nor feminine.”

“That I already know,” Ranen groaned. “You’ll have to put on the performance of your life.”

“Princess?” Arwa called, walking over to the changing screen. Her eyes rounded in wonder as she looked down at the fairy tale fluff that was before me. “Oh! Have you ever seen anything so fine?” she asked, reaching a hand toward the dress.

“It’s certainly something,” I mused, my face scrunching with disgust.

I startled as the door to my chambers opened and more servants rushed in. In a matter of seconds, I was surrounded by a flurry of activity as they descended upon me with makeup, perfumes, oils, silk, and other finery. I sat there silently enduring their torture as they curled and twisted my hair, oiling it and pinning it into a stunning updo. They meticulously painted my face, transforming my features until I barely recognized myself. My once sun-kissed skin was now pale, glowing like a pearl under the layers of powder they applied to even my skin tone. Every touch, every brushstroke, was a calculated effort to transform me into an image of perfection, one that took a lot of effort when it came to someone like me.

Finally, once they were finished, they ushered me toward the changing screen and helped me slip into the beautiful gown. One servant held me steady while two more ventured to my back and pulled on the stays, tying the corset as tightly as possible. Air whooshed from my lungs as they cinched me up.

“I can’t breathe,” I gasped, but they didn’t seem at all concerned that they were choking the life out of me. Once they were finished, another fell to her knees before me, lifted the skirt of the gown, and helped me put on a matching pair of pink slippers.

The servants escorted me into the hallway, where the other equally painted-up candidates waited. They seemed eager to flaunt themselves in front of the king. As we walked down the hall, I couldn’t help but think that we looked like a flock of peacocks, our colorful attire and elaborate makeup turning us into walking displays of gaudiness.

Music grew louder as we approached a pair of large double doors. I held my breath as the doors were flung open, and we were thrust into a sea of people, all eager to cast their judgment on us. The room was filled with splendor, but the weight of their scrutinizing gazes made it feel more like a gilded cage than a ceremonial feast.

In a flurry of frills and chiffon, all the marriage candidates were herded like sheep into the center of the throne room by the palace guards.

The candidates began to fan out, forming a straight line in front of the throne, and I followed suit. My nerves were getting the better of me, and I hated to admit it, but I almost wished Ranen were perched on my shoulder again, telling me what to do.

Razoul sat on his massive throne, his gaze gliding over each of us. When he reached me, he barely glanced at me before moving on to another. Defeat crept through my veins. Everything I had been through the last few days would be pointless if I wasn’t selected as one of the official marriage candidates. Not to mention the fate of the half-starved Canaari people.

My gaze began to wander around the throne room. The walls were lined with tall, arched windows draped with sheer curtains in deep shades of ebony and silver, allowing the waning sunlight to filter through and mingle with the golden light of the chandeliers.

My stomach began to protest as I noticed the tables laden with an abundance of food and drink. Golden platters filled with roasted meats, fragrant rice dishes, and an array of colorful fruits and vegetables covered every inch of the long tables. Decanters of what looked like fine wine and jugs of some other beverages were scattered among the food. The air was thick with the mingling scents of exotic perfumes, rich spices, and the heady aroma of the feast.

My gaze ventured back toward Razoul, and anger seeped into my veins. Wasn’t he done treating us like livestock? What more could he possibly want to see?

“You.” He pointed at a girl with silken blonde hair. “And you.” My heart stalled in my chest. Was he pointing at me? “Dance for me,” he demanded.

Oh no.

One of the girls beside me started to tremble, her lip quivering as if she were fighting back tears, as the two who were not chosen were ushered back into the crowd.

“Ranen. Do something,” I whispered, my voice tight with panic as I struggled to maintain composure. “I can’t dance.”

“Don’t worry, little sayyida. I can help you dance, if you’ll allow me,” Ranen replied.

Fear constricted my throat, but as the lively music filled the air, I realized my choices were simple—either step off the floor in defeat or let Ranen guide me. "Help me dance," I whispered, granting him my permission.

“As you wish.” He rumbled in my mind.

My eyes widened as the girl beside me started to sway to the music. Her arms traced arcs through the air, delicate and sweeping, like the petals of a blooming flower. My feet started moving on their own accord. The sensation was strange, like I didn’t have control of my own body. The music increased in tempo, and my body swayed to the beat. It was exhilarating, but with each twist and turn, the overly tight corset constricted even more, cutting off my circulation and squeezing my lungs without mercy. My head spun, a kaleidoscope of stars dancing before my eyes.

Razoul clapped his hands sharply, and the music abruptly stopped, leaving an echo of silence in its wake. All the girls hurried forward, their movements synchronized as they bowed deeply before the king.

As Ranen’s magic released its grip on my feet, I called his name, the sound barely escaping my lips before darkness crept in around me. The world blurred and faded until everything was swallowed by blackness.