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Chapter Nineteen: Bahira

The door to my cabin is thrown open, and I shriek as I come up to sit in my bed, half-dazed and hair strewn about my face.

“Good morning, Princess.”

“What the fuck ?” I pull the blanket up to my chest despite the fact that I am completely decent underneath. “What if I was lying here naked?”

Kai scoffs as he steps up to the foot of the bed, crossing his arms over his chest. The black tattoo that adorns his right arm seems to suck the sunlight right to it, making it stand out even more. He’s shaved his face, his golden brown skin smooth and gleaming while the damp strands of his dark brown hair are pushed back. Though his clean scent is subtle, I can still smell him from the head of the bed. “Luckily for us both, you aren’t.”

I’m going to punch him again. The bastard smiles like he can hear my inner thoughts.

“Why are you here?” I ask, pushing the blanket off of me completely and coming up to stand.

I comb my fingers through my hair, moving the curls away from my face in an attempt to tame them. Kai doesn’t answer my question, his gaze lingering on what my hands are doing instead. His body goes rigid, his biceps bulging from the way his hands press into his arms. Yet he stares at my hair as if it’s going to walk off my head and right to him.

“Why do you do that?”

My question knocks him from his stupor, his eyes snapping to mine. They look more amber today, perhaps from the way the sunlight shines on them. “Do what?”

I take a step towards him, my hands fisting at my sides. “Why do you stare at my hair as if it personally offends you?”

His nostrils flare as his eyes drag down my body. I’m wearing a thin night chemise, the silky light blue fabric falling to mid-thigh and clinging to my curves. I take another small step forward, forcing his eyes to meet my own.

“You’re imagining things.”

“Imagining your attention would be a nightmare I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy. No, I think you stare at my hair because you like it.” I lean forward, bitterness seeping into my voice. “And you despise that you do.”

The tension in the cabin is like a raging firestorm, brutal and burning and growing the longer we glare at each other. His body is full of coiled energy just waiting to strike; I can see it in the way his eyes blaze and in the clench of his jaw, the muscle fluttering there. He leans in too, hardly leaving a few inches between our chests as they heave with our strained breaths. “The only thing I like about you is that you have the capability to fix the blight on our magic with your own. Beyond that, I have zero interest in any part of you.”

I still, air ripping from my lungs like the oxygen has been sucked out of the room, at the reminder that he expects me to have magic. That he isn’t aware he is bringing someone onto his island who is known for her brain and not her ability to wield magic. Fuck. I jolt back, needing space as I think of how to respond.

Something unreadable flashes quickly in his gaze before he turns on his heel. “Dress and pack quickly. We’ll be on the island within the hour.”

His booted footsteps thud on the wood as he walks out without another word, slamming the door shut behind him.

I close my eyes and tilt my head back, blowing out a slow breath. The tiniest feeling of guilt seeps into my bones as I pace around the cabin. I shouldn’t feel bad. The ancient magic of our world chose me . King Kai himself chastised Daje for complaining that the magic chose wrong when it settled on me, and yet… I groan, running my hands over my face.

Packing up my belongings is easy considering that I never really unpacked them to begin with. I bring my trunk onto the deck, setting it next to the rest of the crew’s things. My backpack carries not only the mage journals and magnifier, as I’m not willing to risk anything happening to them should anyone decide to mistreat my luggage again, but my spear as well. With nothing else to do but wait, I walk to the edge of the deck and lean against the railing, the island nearly upon us.

Though I have seen it to scale on maps in books, there is something quite different about observing it in person. Already, I can tell that it is much more green than any drawing in a book could depict. The color is so vibrant that it glows like a gem amongst the endless blues of the sky above and the water below.

The ship slowly pulls into the port where a handful of others are already docked. Though it’s just past sunrise, the heat of the sun causes sweat to bead on my brow. I gather my hair up into a ponytail and then check my backpack to make sure it and my spear are still secure. The humidity of the island is sweltering as I wait for the rest of the crew to disembark before making our way over the creaking planks, the glimmer of the Spell ahead of us. Waves crash up the sides of the dock, misting my heated skin. The salty scent of the ocean saturates the air, but another scent is woven into it—one that’s earthier in a different way from back home. It carries with it a zing of citrus and sharply potent floral notes.

Damn it , it smells like the king.

Where the Mage Kingdom is full of verdant green bushes and trees and small sprouting flowers, the shifter isle is lush with long-stemmed plants and leaves of nearly every color. It’s so vivid and electrifying in its intensity that my steps falter as I look around.

The shifters ahead of me pass through the Spell effortlessly, but I pause a foot before it. This is the same Spell that lines my own kingdom, that lines them all, but I still harbor apprehension at the thought of crossing. A throat clears behind me, one of the shifter males staring with a brow drawn up when I look over my shoulder. Gripping the straps of my backpack, I take a deep breath and walk forward. From what I have read, those who pass through the Spell know immediately that their magic—or in the case of the mortals, their youth—is dwindling though it can take days before death arrives. I loose a quiet sigh when I cross over and don’t feel anything other than the soft sensation of the magic.

Continuing down the pier, I look once more over my shoulder at the shifters behind me, and like an arrow finding its target, I lock eyes with King Kai. His granite features seem even more hardened, no emotion pulling on his face at all. He glares at me with his usual malice, so I roll my eyes and turn back around. We descend a short staircase and step right onto the sandy edges of the beach. The granules are finer than those on mage shores, easier to sink into with each step.

The sand finally gives way to a rocky path, the small pebbles clashing together under the steps of our procession. My eyes bounce from each new plant and tree as I categorize it all in my mind, committing them to memory so that I might be able to identify them in a book. Excitement tingles on the tips of my fingers, my heart beating loudly in my ears as I think of all I will be able to see and learn that isn’t related to magic.

We continue walking for another twenty minutes, the humidity so oppressive that, by the time I hear the familiar noises of city life, I’m ready to just walk around nude. Sweat coats every inch of me, my breathing labored even though I’m not exerting myself physically. It’s like I’m trying to breathe underwater.

“We are entering the capital,” one of the shifters shouts from ahead, probably for my benefit.

My knowledge on the Shifter Kingdom’s capital, Molsi, is paltry, only facts like their most popular export and last known populace bounce around uselessly in my mind. Small huts lining either side of our walkway come into view, people surrounding them in small groups. Though “hut” seems like too rudimentary a word to describe the dwellings that are spread out over the landscape. Some are only one story, circular in shape, and made with a mixture of wood, stone, and what looks like dried- out fronds. Others are made of the same materials but stand three stories tall. While the structures back home are whimsical, adorned by the land itself, here they appear more practical. No frill or fanciness, just what is needed to make a sturdy home or business.

The stone used is a brilliant white, and it looks softer than the dragon stone I’m used to, like one could carve into it with a fingernail. Light green ferns dot the ground on either side of what has turned into a central roadway, tiny flowers growing in the spaces between from rich dark brown soil. Plants with wide and glossy leaves in a striated white and green color draw my eye every few feet. The colors of everything here are so crisp that I’m apt to believe they are hues I’ve never seen before. Rolling rocky hills dotted with trees line the horizon in all directions as I turn slowly to take everything in. Larger homes are built right into some of the hilltops, their white stone stark against the dark rock. I always presumed the Mage Kingdom to be the most beautiful of Olymazi, but even I must admit quietly to myself that this kingdom rivals it.

The capital city is bustling, similar to Galdr in that respect, but there is something about the energy of Molsi that feels different. Merchant stalls and free-standing buildings crowd either side of the path we walk. Every shifter we pass gives me a second glance, their eyes all variations of dark gold to deep brown. Can they tell I’m not a shifter? Or is it that I’m the only female in the caravan?

I study them in return, noting how most of the females are dressed in clothing that bare their midriffs, but given the heat and humidity, it doesn’t surprise me that they would dress for comfort. I find myself envious of the way they don’t seem to be sweating as profusely as I am. The males are dressed in shorts and tunics that are sleeveless, and nearly every single one of them is broad in a way that doesn’t anatomically make sense. Almost as if they were stretched just a fraction too wide to accommodate more muscle. For both the males and females, there is no denying that strength is a shifter attribute. And they all have varying midnight-black tattoos adorning their deep tan skin. Some only have one inked on an arm or leg, while others have lines and swirls across every inch of uncovered skin.

Breathing in deeply, the scent of something savory makes my stomach rumble.

“Did you not eat before we left?”

My head jerks to the right, finding Kai now walking beside me. “I was told by an incredibly rude male to dress and pack quickly.”

Kai sighs, the sound somehow louder than the noise of the bustling city. People part as we walk, clearing the busy path almost instantaneously, yet nearly all of them stare at Kai in an unnerving manner. It isn’t one of admiration or even basic respect, but instead, there is wariness in their gazes. Their lips form straight lines, and some of the men in particular look poised to attack—their bodies rigid with tension . I look behind us and find no one from the ship is following. Even Tua has stopped and is talking with a group of males farther back.

“Do you not walk with any kind of royal protection?” I ask quietly.

Kai’s lips draw up in a smirk as he cuts in front of me and walks to one of the huts where a delicious scent is emanating from. My steps falter as I splay my arms out to the sides at his back. The asshole just ignored me. Intent on giving him a piece of my mind despite what Tua warned, I step towards him, only to be stopped by a tug on my pants. A young shifter female, face covered in what I hope is chocolate, stares up at me. Her amber eyes crinkle against the sunlight coming over my shoulder, so I squat down to get on her eye level.

“Yes?”

“Are you friends with the king?” Her voice is high-pitched as she points to where Kai is still facing the hut.

“I… know him, yes.”

“Can you ask him when he is going to fix my daddy?”

I huff out a laugh, but it dies the moment that I realize she is being serious. “What is wrong with your daddy?” I ask, but the small female doesn’t answer when a shadow instead covers us both.

Her wide eyes grow larger as she tips her head back. I don’t have to look to know it’s Kai. Though she showed no fear coming up to me, it begins to surface on the little shifter’s face the longer she observes him.

“Marida! Come back over here!” a female yells at her, waving her hand quickly. The young female immediately darts off but not before giving me one last look over her shoulder.

I rise slowly, watching as the mother quickly ushers her away and into one of the smaller huts. What the hell was that? I look at the king from the corner of my eye, but he gives me no indication if he heard the interaction.

“Come, Bahira,” he says before shoving something warm into my hands and walking away. Bewildered, I follow him while the female’s words replay in my mind. What could she possibly have meant by “fixing” her daddy? Was this related to the blight? And why the hell won’t Tua or Kai tell me what it is?

“It’s called a samosa,” Tua says as he joins me, gesturing with his chin towards the food in my hand.

Looking down, I inhale deeply, and that rich scent from earlier thickens as I unwrap the parchment-covered item. It’s a triangle-shaped pastry, one that is clearly filled with savory ingredients instead of sweet ones. I take a small bite and nearly groan at the burst of intricate flavors. It’s spicy and earthy yet fresh and decadent. It’s one of the best things I’ve ever tasted, and the king—the arrogant, rude, brash, infuriating king —bought it for me. Because he knew I was hungry. The next bite is tougher to swallow with that realization.

Tua and I walk side by side in silence as we weave through the busy capital. Multiple people come up to him and shake his hand, giving friendly smiles and looks of admiration. And for some reason, one that I don’t dare look too closely at, I feel pity for the looming male walking a few paces ahead of us all alone. While he does get a few looks of general indifference, the majority of them are edged—bordering even on cruel. It makes me wonder how Tua can let his ruler walk completely unguarded with so much animosity curling in the air.

Turning down a smaller side road, we continue to the edges of an estate lined with palm trees. It’s only two stories, but its expanse is massive, nearly double the width of the palace back home. Tall arches curve between white stone columns that line the outside of the first level in all directions. The second level boasts a wraparound balcony, wooden posts dotting it every few feet with bright purple ivy wound tightly around them.

“Welcome, Bahira, to the Stone Palace,” Tua says, gesturing widely at the building.

I take in the gradient green vegetation and sparkling ponds full of colorful fish. A garden, filled with the most unique flowers, blankets the land to the east of the palace. Against the vibrant green of the plants and bright blue of the sky, the white Stone Palace stands out as its own beautiful landmark.

Tua guides me up a small set of steps and through black double doors that already stand open. My eyes grow wide at the white and black stone floors, the pattern like a checkerboard. The walls of the palace are made of sandy-colored wood, the planks stacked vertically, and there are plants in deep green and rich blue tucked into corners or hanging down from the ceiling. Rugs of gold and white lay over the checkered floors, adding an elegance that I’m surprised by.

Tua’s pace is unhurried, as is the king in front of us, but I find that my feet are eager to move faster. To drink in even more about this foreign land, and to learn all its secrets.

“You asshole! ” someone shouts, halting our group. I draw my brows together at the sound of quick-moving footsteps, looking to Tua for any hint of who the owner might be. A female, a little shorter than myself, comes barreling out of a side corridor. “You left without saying goodbye!”

“I told you when I was leaving. You opted to sleep in,” he responds with a shrug.

She scoffs, staring at him with narrowed eyes for all of three seconds before a smile breaks out and she jumps onto him, her arms wrapping around his neck. His laugh—an actual laugh —echoes out in the hall as he holds her to him and spins around so that he is facing us. Though it makes no sense and goes against every sort of logical reasoning I can quantify in my mind, a spark of jealousy prickles through me. I squeeze my fist tighter around the parchment wrapper still in my grasp. You are tired and haven’t had sex since Max, that is all this is. I will have to rectify that as soon as possible.

Kai releases the female to her feet, letting her turn around before tucking her into his side, his arm wrapping around her shoulders. She is stunning, her features elegant but not dainty. With high cheekbones and full lips, she is not hewn from rock like the shifter king but from glass, brilliant yet no less sharp. Barely giving Tua any sort of acknowledgment, her light brown eyes find mine. Her hair is a lighter shade than my own, thick and wavy with a few braids blended in. She wears the same style of clothing as the females I saw in the city center, baring her golden tanned midriff, but the quality is finer, the fabric bolder in its color and trimmed with delicate ribbon. She eyes me curiously, gazing slowly over my face before turning her attention back to Kai. A taunting smile curls her lips.

Kai clears his throat, giving her a look of warning before glancing back at me. “Tua will show you to your room. Feel free to explore the palace and the grounds, just do not cross the palm tree perimeter on your own.”

I offer him a single nod of understanding and watch as he and the female leave, her gaze lingering on me a moment more before Kai leans down and whispers something to her. Their laughter echoes off the palace floors and walls as I watch them retreat, the samosa turning to lead in my stomach.