Page 29 of Bound by Wishes (Enchanted Deceptions #1)

I slept like a baby after Ranen had promised that nothing would touch me in either this world or the dream world. Easing up from my pillow, I wasn’t shocked to find Ranen’s dark magic swirling around the dome, weaving a barrier to protect us. The smoky currents moved with a hypnotizing grace, reinforcing the sanctuary he had promised.

Ranen’s dark gaze collided with mine and held it there for what felt like an eternity. It was as though the world around us faded, filled with unspoken words that needed to be said, but we were both too stubborn to yield. His mysterious eyes seemed to pierce through my very soul. I didn’t like that he could read me so easily, as if he could see the fears and doubts I tried to hide. It made me feel vulnerable, and that was a sensation I despised.

Malik stirred, breaking the trance that Ranen had me under, and I scrambled to my feet. Ranen stood and turned his back to me, stretching with a lethal grace that once again ensnared my attention. The muscles in his back rippled, each movement a silent display of power and control, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I swallowed hard, heat creeping up my neck as I realized I was staring. I needed a cold shower.

"What’s for breakfast, genie boy?" Malik taunted.

I froze, my heart flopping in my chest. Poking someone like Ranen was not wise, especially when I had witnessed him reduce people to piles of black sand in mere seconds. The air seemed to crackle with tension as I silently questioned Malik’s sanity. Why on earth was he jabbing the big, bad genie?

Ranen turned slowly, his gaze locking onto Malik’s with the force of a sledgehammer. Blood drained from my face as the tension thickened. Ranen’s lips curled into a wicked smile, revealing the sharp gleam of his white teeth. The malice in his eyes was unmistakable, and I braced myself for what might happen next.

I quickly stepped between the two of them, my pulse racing as Ranen’s intense gaze shifted to me. I silently pleaded with him, begging him not to hurt Malik. To my relief, the hard edge in Ranen’s eyes softened. Without a word, he turned his attention to the table, his smoky magic swirling around to cook up a delectable breakfast. My mouth watered as the air filled with the rich aroma of the meal.

“I hope this is to your liking,” Ranen growled, stepping out of the dome and into the bright morning sun.

I turned to Malik with a scowl. “Do you have a death wish?” I hissed, the irritation in my voice barely contained .

Malik shrugged innocently. “What? I don’t trust him. Have you seen the way he's been eyeing the staff?”

The way Ranen’s gaze lingered on the staff hadn’t escaped my attention, and it stirred a chill within me. But what would he gain from it, and what kind of powers did it truly have? I hated that I was questioning his intentions when everything he’d done so far had been trustworthy. He was simply a man wronged by his brother, wanting his kingdom back and his djinn powers restored. But something in his eyes made me hesitate, made me wonder if retrieving the staff had been the right choice. The Canaari Medjai certainly weren’t pleased. I wished I could sit down with them and find what they knew.

Worry gnawed at me from the inside, but I forced myself to focus on my breakfast. I helped myself to a bowl of creamy yogurt raita, its sweetness paired with dates and ripe fruit. A small smile tugged at my lips as I reached for the steaming cup of rich, dark coffee. Ranen definitely knew what I liked.

Once we finished our breakfast, Malik and I stepped outside to join Ranen. The desert in the early morning was calm, bathed in the soft, golden light of dawn. The cool air was crisp and refreshing, and the sand shifted beneath my bare feet. The sky above was a delicate blend of pastel colors, stretching endlessly and kissing the horizon. I exhaled, wishing that we could remain in this moment a little longer instead of facing what was ahead of us. Part of me wanted to run from it all, to forget this nightmare. But the Nightshade was loose in the world because of me, and it was my responsibility to make it right.

The dome we had slept in faded into the desert landscape. Ranen turned to me, his silhouette outlined against the backdrop of the sunlit dunes. “Are you ready, sayyida?” he asked.

A persistent gnawing in my gut warned me that if I entered the palace again, I might not make it out in one piece, or at all. I swallowed hard, forcing the lump in my throat down. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” I replied, tightening my grip on the staff. “But I can’t go in silky pajamas.”

Ranen stepped back as he slowly scanned me from head to toe. The intense scrutiny made my cheeks flush with heat.

“I think you need to put me back in the same clothes I wore that day,” I suggested, shifting uneasily. “That way, Razoul might suspect I haven’t gotten very far.”

Ranen nodded in agreement as his magic surrounded me. It was both cool and comforting as it caressed my bare limbs, causing my breath to hitch. When it finally dissolved, I found myself dressed in the same ruby-red crop top and harem pants I had worn that day. But Ranen had added a touch of drama, with a few deliberate rips and smudges of dirt and dust, giving the outfit an even more disheveled look.

“And for you,” Ranen said, turning his attention to Malik. “A weary traveler will do nicely.” Malik was swallowed up by Ranen’s dark smoky magic. The force of it spun Malik around, the violent twisting very different from the calm transformation I had experienced.

Malik stumbled and fell to his hands and knees as Ranen’s magic released him. He took a moment to regain his balance, then slowly stood, brushing the sand from his palms with a frustrated growl.

Malik’s new attire perfectly suited a nomad with a loose, flowing tunic in earthy tones of beige and brown, cinched at the waist with a wide weathered belt. He wore sand-colored trousers that tapered at the ankles and sturdy leather sandals. A scarf wrapped around his head and neck, offering protection from the sun and sand along with a dark-brown cloak.

A horse appeared next, tossing its head and nickering as if it were agitated with being summoned. While it wasn’t as grand as the palace steeds I’d been riding recently, it had sturdy haunches well-suited for desert life.

“Sorry, sayyida,” Ranen whispered. I didn’t have a chance to ask what he meant before his inky magic grasped my wrists, lifting them into the air. I gasped as a rope materialized, winding tight around my wrists and securing me to the saddle horn of the horse.

Panic flared in my chest at the thought of being at the mercy of a man, but I coaxed myself to calm down. Malik would be the one holding the rope, and I trusted him to ensure nothing would happen to me.

“What about the staff?” I asked, glancing toward the silvery artifact protruding from the sand. “We can’t exactly waltz into the palace with it.”

Ranen’s gaze shifted to the staff, and I caught the flicker of desire in his eyes. “I’ll take care of it,” he said, his tone deepening.

His magic wove around the staff, lifting it from the sand. As the staff spun in the air, it seemed to hiss and writhe, resisting his enchantment. He transformed the staff into a discreet sword with a smooth, simple design. Then his magic guided the sword into a newly materialized sheath at Malik’s waist .

“Oh, joy,” Malik huffed as he clumsily mounted the horse. “Another ride through the desert with an enchanted staff attached to my hip.”

I walked over to the horse, but before I could place my foot in the stirrup, Ranen’s hands gently encircled my waist. He lifted me with ease, setting me on the horse behind Malik. His touch lingered longer than necessary, sending a jolt through me and stealing the breath from my lungs.

Our eyes locked, and his grip around my waist tightened. “Don’t worry, sayyida,” he whispered, his voice like a velvet promise. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” Ranen reluctantly slid his hands from my waist, leaving behind a chill in their absence, but his words flooded me with warmth.

"Let’s get going," Malik said, urging the horse forward, the motion jolting me out of the genie-induced haze I was in.

My head swiveled back, searching for Ranen. He vanished before my eyes, but his comforting presence lingered around me, wrapping me in a sense of safety. The wind whipped past us as Malik urged the horse into a faster pace. My thoughts spiraled, the terrors growing more vivid with every beat of the horse’s hooves that drove us closer to the palace.

A nagging voice whispered in my head, telling me I couldn’t do this. But I shoved it aside as quickly as it reared its ugly head. I had been through too much. I wasn’t the same timid woman who had first stepped off the boat into Jalam. Why should I fear the Nightshade? I’d endured nightmares so intense that nothing it could conjure would be worse than the horrors my own mind created. No one should be trapped the way I had been, and yet, I had endured.

That simple thought must have soothed me, and I must have dozed off, because before I knew it, Malik was pulling the horse to a stop. The palace loomed before us, its imposing walls casting long shadows across the sand. My heart raced as Malik urged the horse forward. To my surprise, the plan worked like a charm. The guards waved us through the fortress gates without question, eager to get me back inside the walls of Jalam.

We passed slowly through the marketplace. The heady scent of earthy spices, mingled with the sharp tang of sweat and the musty odor of sunbaked sand, greeted us as we rode through the marketplace. Voices were low, and the atmosphere was weighed down by quiet desperation. I would never get used to the deplorable way these people were forced to live.

“This is awful,” Malik voiced my thoughts out loud as his gaze swept across the makeshift stalls, cobbled together from weathered wood and worn cloth.

“I’m painfully aware,” I said, barely above a whisper.

Fear spider-walked down my spine as we approached the looming archway of the palace. Two guards stepped forward, halting Malik. “What is your business?” they demanded.

Malik tugged on the rope binding me to him. “I found something that belongs to the king.” He answered them in a raspy voice that made him sound like he had been out in the elements too long, impressing me with his performance.

The guards’ gazes shifted to me, and a wicked smile curved their lips as they exchanged glances with one another. “We’ll take her from here,” one of them said.

My heart pounded against my ribcage, a sheen of sweat breaking out across my forehead.

“I don’t think so,” Malik retorted, placing a hand on the hilt of his sword. “I’ll deliver this little beauty to him myself.” The guards seemed taken aback by his audacity but ultimately parted for him to pass.

“I’m impressed,” I whispered to him. “I had no idea you could act like that.”

Malik flashed a grin. “Maybe I should’ve been an actor instead of a conservator for the museum.”

As we approached the palace, more guards emerged from the grand entrance, their shiny boots echoing against the marble steps as they descended and fanned out into the gardens.

Seconds later, Mozenwrath slithered down the steps with the sinuous grace of a serpent, his presence making me prefer the mines filled with snakes to his company. Right behind him, Razoul followed, his dark eyes locking onto mine with a menacing intensity that made my skin prickle.

Razoul stopped beside the horse, his scent of frankincense overpowering the garden’s fresh smell and making my stomach churn. “I see you’ve found my desert rose,” he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Get her down.” He motioned to the guards, and they quickly lifted me from the horse, setting my feet on the ground. “I’ll take that.” Razoul motioned to the rope still tied around the saddle horn.

Bile burned the back of my throat when Malik reluctantly handed the rope to Razoul. He tugged me forward, an evil smile playing on his lips. “Pay him well for his service,” Razoul said to Mozenwrath.

“Wait, your Majesty,” Malik called out. Razoul turned back around, frustration etched on his face. “Save your gold. What good will it do me in the desert? All I ask is for a decent meal and a safe place to spend the night.”

Razoul appeared to mull over Malik’s request before turning to Mozenwrath. “Very well. See that he is taken care of,” he commanded. Relief washed over me. At least Malik would be on the palace grounds if I needed him.

Razoul jerked the rope, the rough fibers biting into my flesh as he pulled me forward. The guards snickered, clearly entertained by how their king was treating me like a prized pig rather than a human being. He dragged me up the stairs and through the corridors.

"I should have you thrown back into the dungeon,” Razoul hissed in my face. “But since you so easily escaped—and because I’m not a man without principles—I’ll confine you to your chambers instead.”

I trailed behind him, struggling to match his long strides as he led me down the familiar hallway toward my bedroom. He stopped, motioning for a guard to open the door before shoving me inside. "You would do well not to attempt to escape again," he warned, his voice cold. "Next time, my mercy will not extend so far."

I flinched as the door slammed behind me, the loud bang echoing through the room. Tension knotted in my chest. Outside, his voice was a low growl as he commanded the guards to keep a constant watch over me. I freed my wrists from the loosely tied rope and let it fall to the floor.

A large, furry body brushed against the back of my legs, and I smiled as I turned to Namir. “Hello, there. I’m glad to see he hasn’t chained you up again,” I cooed, patting his head, feeling the warmth of his fur beneath my hand before collapsing onto the soft mattress with a weary sigh.

A groan escaped my lips when I heard a timid knock at the door. “Enter,” I huffed.

The door creaked open, and Arwa stepped inside, her eyes wide with worry as she approached. “The king has instructed me to get you cleaned up and changed,” she said softly, her gaze darting nervously around the room.

“Very well,” I muttered, rising from the bed and following her out the door. We made our way down the hallway toward the bathing chambers, the heavy footfalls of the guards echoing behind us. They trailed us closely until we reached the entrance to the final hallway leading to the women’s bath, where they were forced to stop.

Arwa helped me undress, tossing my filthy clothes aside. She poured fragrant jasmine oil into my hair and scrubbed my skin with foamy soap. She combed through my hair and braided it. The damp braid promised to yield beautiful curls by morning once it was dried. Arwa wrapped a soft towel around me, gently patting me dry before offering me a silk robe.

I followed Arwa down the hallway, my two loyal guard dogs waiting exactly where I’d left them. She pushed open my door, and I stepped inside ahead of her.

“I’ll go to the kitchen and fetch something for you to eat,” she said.

“Thank you, Arwa,” I replied with a smile. She blushed at the gratitude, her cheeks flushing a soft pink before she closed the door behind her. I could hear the gentle pitter- patter of her footsteps as she hurried away down the corridor.

A swirl of smoke gathered on my bed, and as it began to clear, the unmistakable outline of Ranen materialized, lounging casually on the mattress. “The guise of a princess suits you, sayyida,” he said as his gaze lingered on my freshly washed face, now soft with cream.

I ignored his empty compliment, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “What’s the plan?”

Ranen straightened up, his demeanor shifting to seriousness. “Tonight, while Razoul is at court, you’ll need to enter his chambers and search for the book.”

I was afraid he was going to say that. I nodded once, forcing myself to push aside the rising tide of panic. Sneaking into Razoul’s chambers and avoiding the lurking Nightshade wasn’t my ideal way of spending the evening, but someone had to do it. And it looked like that someone was going to be me.