“So how is it you don’t see yourself as Djinn?”
When she’d first denied her ties to the Dark kin, he’d wanted nothing more than to prove her for the liar he knew her to be. To make her pay for causing him such hurt. But after those first few days of almost hating her, he considered all he knew about her. He asked Jonas a few questions and realised Ellie meant what she’d said. She didn’t consider herself Djinn.
Ellie Markham, Seattle native and graduate student, wanted no part of the Djinn or of Tanselm. As far as she was concerned, she was a xiantope, a being of no magic and proud of it. It made no sense then, and it still didn’t. He could feel the magic pulsing within her just by looking at her.
Her movements grew stiffer as she scrambled some eggs in a large skillet. “Why do you want to know?”
“Ellie, I already told you I’m sorry about what I said before. I don’t hate all Djinn. Just the ones who killed my father and want to destroy Tanselm.”
Her gaze flew to his. “What did you say?”
“I said I didn’t mean it.”
“No. The part about your father being dead.”
He frowned. “Over a year ago, my father was killed by Djinn poison. Apparently, we’ve had Djinn infiltrators, not your rebel friends, but real baddies who insist on killing as many Storm Lords as they possibly can before taking over Tanselm as the kingdom’s ‘rightful rulers’.”
“Oh, wow. I didn’t know.”
“Yeah, well.” He didn’t want to talk about it.
“So you aren’t just a prejudiced bastard who hates those different from his royal self.” She watched him carefully.
He rolled his eyes. “Would you get off the ‘royal’ bandwagon? I’m a prince, big deal. You’re the daughter of Ethim il Ruethe, clan leader to the Sarqua. That’s royalty in my book, princess.”
She glared at him and turned back to the sizzling eggs. “I thought you hated all Djinn because we’re—they’re—Dark.”
“I already said I don’t hate all Djinn. Jonas is a pain in the ass, and his brothers could use some lessons in manners. But most of the Djinn I’ve met in Foreia have been fair.” More than fair considering what he’d put them through.
She took the pan away from the heat and turned to him. “I really am sorry about your father.”
Uncomfortable with the topic, still not yet to terms with his grief, he shrugged. “He’s in the Next, waiting for my mother. I’m sure wherever he is, he’s getting into as much trouble as possible. He’s a wind master.”
“Like your brother Aerolus, right?”
“Right.” He swallowed the orange juice she placed in front of him in one gulp. The rage he’d once felt in having confided in her had faded, and he now felt pleased he could talk with someone outside of his family about his loved ones. A year in this plane had forged a closeness with his brothers he sorely missed. “You’d think Aerolus, a Wind Mage, would be as laid back. But no way. He’s one uptight sorcerer.”
She scooped a large portion of the eggs onto a plate and set it down before him, bringing a second, smaller plate for herself. Sitting across the counter from him, she began eating. “That’s not what I hear.”
“Oh?”
“Rumour has it Aerolus has been pleasantly low-key since marrying Alandra le Aelle.” Ellie suddenly smiled, a wicked grin that had his blood rising. “You know what they say about creatures of Shadow and Dark.”
He stared, transfixed by expression. “No, what?”
“That anything dark is dangerously good. Shadows are sexy and dark is sinfully seductive. It’s why they make the best lovers.” As soon as she said it, she froze, then she hurriedly stuffed the rest of her food in her mouth, choking on her eggs.
“From my experience, I’d say that’s true.” Her distress both amused and enflamed him. Why the hell had he dared her to come to him? “But then, I’m just a Light Bringer, so what would I know? Now my uncle—” He stopped, wishing he hadn’t brought up that unpleasant topic of conversation.
“Yes, your uncle?” she prodded, no doubt grateful to have the attention off her.
“Let’s not talk about him. He’s not real popular with anyone in Foreia.” Anyone meant Lexa, and he’d been forbidden to say her name outside the small circle of rebel Djinn. He silently agreed. The less said about Lexa, in his opinion, the better. “Besides, I’m on his shi—bad list.”
“Now, Cadmus,” she teased, the old Ellie making him long to pull her in his arms and forget the past hurt between them, “why would you be on anyone’s bad list? I simply can’t imagine.”
Chapter Three
“I swear by the Light’s Grace, if I never have to search for this misbegotten prince again, it will be too soon.” Arim Valens, Guardian of Storm, Killer of Shadow, and disgruntled uncle, swore under his breath as his sister approached with a scowl on her ageless face. “Not now, Your Grace,” he managed respectfully and turned away.
Too late.
Her irritation churned through the hallways of the WesternPalace, stirring Tanselm’s magic like a heavy breeze. At moments like this, Arim clearly recognised his sister’s awesome power, and how good she was at making him feel less like the kingdom’s sorcerer and more like her younger, recalcitrant brother.
She grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him into a private room off the corridor, much to the shock of several of her retainers. She slammed the door shut, giving them privacy.
“Don’t you dare put me off,” Ravyn said, fury in her bright green eyes. Despite her small stature, she was more than a match for him. “I want to know why I can’t see Cadmus now that the brunt of the Netharat has fallen.”
He wanted to shake her, to tell her to take a look around. Djinn had infiltrated the Royal House, those of Light were not all to be trusted, and creatures of Shadow were now openly invited into Tanselm’s warmth, courtesy of Aerolus’ new wife. Instead, he hugged her tightly, knowing he would do everything in his power to make his past mistakes right—mistakes that had cost the kingdom its greatest overking and the rest of a once-great Tetrarch.
He squeezed her shoulders and pushed her away enough to look at her. “Ravyn, the walls are not safe here.”
She waved a hand and visible sparks blanketed the walls, ceiling and floor, caging them inside. “Now they are. Stop stalling. What’s wrong with Cadmus?”
“Nothing,” he immediately protested, feeling like a small child caught with his hand over the sweets. How the hell did she do that? Was it a motherly thing, or her distinction as overqueen? “He’s fine. I left him with friends, people I’m not at liberty to discuss.” He held up a hand to silence her. “Not even with you.”
She shook her head. “I almost lost Aerolus just a few days ago. Three of my four sons are here, safe with me. I want the last one, and I want him now.” The look she gave him made lesser men tremble.
Arim, however, didn’t bow to his sister. “Older you may be, and queen as well, but I will not jeopardise Cadmus to make you feel better.” He twisted inside as her eyes welled with tears. “I’m sorry you worry,” he added softly, “but to compromise Cadmus to ease your fears would break your heart for certain. Have faith, Ravyn. Cadmus is fine. When I bring him back, you can set his hair on fire and turn his skin blue if it will make you feel better.”
She chuckled, wiping her eyes. “It’s not as if he doesn’t deserve it.”