Exquisite Captive (12 page)

And yet the sensation of his lips on hers, so unexpectedly gentle, lingered. It made no sense, his courting her—as if they could be a normal couple. As if she had a choice.

Nalia flipped onto her back, clutching the novel she’d been trying to read against her chest. It hadn’t been enough to distract her, though the human books that lined the walls of her bedroom could usually take the edge off her captivity. They were so different from the books in Arjinna, where the leather-bound tomes in the palace library served only as dry sources of information. Alchemy, mostly. How to bind the elements to one’s will in order to manifest, create illusions, command the seas, and speak with the wind. The novels Malek had given Nalia taught her about human nature, about the desires hidden deep within the hearts of the wishmakers she granted for; these human books were illusions in paper and ink, just as powerful as the kind Nalia could manifest out of thin air. Lost in the magic of story, Nalia had begun to understand what it meant to be human, to burn so brightly for such a short time, just a tenth of a jinni’s lifespan.

But more than anything else, the novels taught her about love.

The lonely hours spent reading human stories or watching films were all she’d ever known of love, any love, save her brother’s. The only time Nalia had heard the words
I love you
were when Bashil had whispered them, just once, in her ear. And now her brother’s life—and maybe that of countless other Arjinnans—depended on her ability to convince Malek that she had suddenly realized she was hopelessly in love with him. She needed a spell, some kind of jinn alchemy that she could use to convince Malek she returned his feelings, but it was the one magic that didn’t exist. Love couldn’t be wished for—even Malek knew that:
You can’t grant me what I want. You have to
give
it to me. Someday you will.

The Ghan Aisouri prided themselves on emotional detachment—the land always came first. Nalia’s mother had never hugged her, and overlord Ajwar Shai’Dzar, her mother’s occasional nighttime companion and Nalia’s father, was only a ghostly presence in her life. She didn’t even know if he was alive, and the not knowing hurt more than she thought it would. Though she’d only ever seen him at court a handful of times, she remembered that he was quiet and gentle, a scholar reluctant to show necessary force with his serfs. He’d given her a book of spells once, when she came of age on her thirteenth birthday. She wondered where the leather-bound text was.

An engine gunned in the driveway; Nalia felt Malek’s summons as soon as she heard his Aston Martin pull up in front of the mansion. It was only a slight pinch at her navel, but after what had happened with her master last night, this power he had to reach across space and touch her felt too intimate. Like a dark, secret thing only they knew about. She gripped the novel in her arms, suddenly terrified to see him—that kiss, so foreign, so unexpected. Before, she had only feared her master when the threat of the bottle pulsed under a moment, like last night with the tricky wish granting she’d done with the client. This fear was different. It hid deep inside her, unraveling her sense of self, spinning Nalia into confusion. The Ghan Aisouri didn’t train for dealing with
that
.

Malek had been gone by the time she returned from her
Sha’a Rho
exercises on the beach, and the only way she’d known she was going to see him later in the day was a small note on the breakfast tray Delson brought up each morning. Her master’s elegant script on thick cream paper had simply said,
I’m taking you out tonight.

Nalia sat up and slipped on a pair of intricately beaded flats that Leilan had gotten her from the Venice boardwalk. It was silly, she knew, but wearing the shoes gave her courage, as if her one friend on Earth were going on the date with her. Nalia stepped in front of the gilded floor-length mirror in the corner of her room and adjusted the sleeveless, black sundress she’d chosen for its low cut and the way it accentuated all the places on her body Malek’s eyes were drawn to. She sprayed on the perfume her master had given her a few months ago—he’d had it made for her in Mumbai, a smoky scent that hinted at secret trysts and honeyed promises. The night he’d given it to her was the first time Nalia had noticed the shift in his attention. It was subtle, that move from brusque taskmaster to charming suitor. But as the weeks went on, it became more and more impossible to ignore the comments, the gifts, the late-night chats. Then there was his kiss. It had set something in motion, pulling them somewhere Nalia had never been.

She took one last look in the mirror: Malek’s lapis lazuli necklace glimmered against her bronze skin. She brushed her fingertips against it, thinking of Bashil, of home, and the price she would have to pay to get there. It was a simple plan, really: seduce her master. Sleep with him, which would require taking the bottle off. And after, when he’s lying in bed, content and deep in sleep, steal the bottle and let Raif do his magic.

But her plan didn’t feel simple, not at all.

Nalia took one last look in the mirror, then headed downstairs. Malek was waiting for her outside, smoking a cigarette and staring at the fountain beside the door—a large stone angel he’d gotten from Rome, a Michelangelo coveted by every museum in the world. Bright pink bougainvillea tumbled over the porch’s stone railing and twisted around the columns that bordered the front door, the vibrant blossoms perfectly offsetting Malek’s dark hair and suit.

“Hello,” he said, turning around as she pushed through the door. He threw the cigarette down and stamped it out. His eyes immediately strayed to her necklace and he smiled. She wondered if he was thinking about the kiss.

Nalia forced her lips up and gestured to her sundress. “Is this all right or . . . ?”

Malek reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. “Perfect. Come on.”

He kept her hand in his as they walked to the Aston Martin, though it was only a few steps away. She looked at the once-broken windows of the car with satisfaction. She’d spent an hour that morning fixing the damage she and Raif had wrought on the cars in the garage during their fight. Every car now looked as good as new.

“Your note was very mysterious,” she said, hoping her words would distract him from the waves of self-loathing that were rolling off her.

“Was it?” he said, pleased. “I’m taking you to my favorite place in the city,” he said. “I want to celebrate.”

He held the door of the tiny sports car open for her and she slid onto the black leather seat. Delson rushed onto the porch, holding up a cell phone, but Malek waved his hand as he walked over to the driver’s side.

“No calls tonight,” he said. Delson gave a short bow, his eyes flitting to Nalia but his face otherwise expressionless. She wasn’t sure what she saw in the servant’s eyes—pity? Contempt?

“What are we celebrating?” she asked as Malek started the engine.

He looked over at her, then put the car in drive. “New beginnings.”

Malek didn’t elaborate as they drove down the steep hill and into the city. Instead he told her about Dubai, how he’d make sure she went with him next time.

“You can even go skiing, if you want,” he said. “They have an indoor slope. You’d like it, I think.”

Nalia shook her head. “I doubt it. If jinn want to go down a mountain quickly, we can just evanesce to the bottom.”

Malek laughed, the sound surprisingly rich and boyish. “It’s not about getting to the bottom,
hayati
. It’s about the
rush
. Magic is too easy. It takes all the fun out of things.”

She considered that for a moment, then nodded. Her time on Earth had given Nalia an appreciation for nonmagical skills. It was amazing, the things humans could accomplish without the aid of
chiaan
. Unlike the humans, her people had never discovered a way to visit their moons and planets—Nalia thought it must be a fearsome and wonderful thing to fly with the stars.

“Maybe,” she said. “I suppose having both would be the ideal.”

Malek merged into the long line of traffic on Sunset, ignoring the blaring horn and middle finger from the Mercedes he’d cut off. “What did you do while I was abroad?” he asked.

Nalia closed the air vents on her side of the car—as usual, he had the heater on even though it was still warm outside.

“Nothing, really. I drove a lot.”

He smiled, pleased. “I knew you’d like that car.”

Nalia had begun to think of each word, each lingering glance she bestowed on him, as moves on a chess board. “It’s perfect.” She imagined one of the Ghan Aisouri’s gryphons smacking her on the arm or leg with a wooden pole. She had to go one step further. “You know me better than I thought you did.”

“I’m glad you’ve finally noticed,” he said, his voice soft.

She’d worried that he would be suspicious of her sudden interest in him, but he seemed . . . happy. Maybe even a little relieved. Malek pulled up in front of a low building with looping white letters shining above a marquee:
SILENT MOVIE THEATRE
. Nalia furrowed her brow.

“Silent movies? What’s that?” she asked.

“The first kinds of movies—well before your time. The actors play out their roles, but instead of hearing their words, you read them on the screen.”

“Why?”

“They didn’t have the technology back then.” He shrugged. “Personally, I think they’re better than the ones they make now.”

“And this is your favorite place in the city?”

He smiled. “Yes. Surprised?”

“A little,” she said. He raised his eyebrows. “All right, a lot.”

“There’s more to me than you think, Nalia,” he said, his face suddenly serious.

She swallowed. “I know.”

Malek leaned toward her, one hand tracing her jaw. Nalia froze as his lips moved closer to hers. The heat in the car was stifling and his fingers on her jaw, now her neck, her collarbone, seemed to sear the skin beneath them. And she knew she had to let this happen, she
knew
, but there was no air, just heat and Malek so close. The tiny car seemed to fold in on her, confining, like the bottle—

Nalia put her hands on his chest and pushed him away, panic overriding her desperation for the bottle around his neck. “Malek, I can’t breathe—”

Something flashed in his eyes, but when he leaned back and saw her face, he softened. Malek turned off the engine and jumped out of the car, throwing the keys at the valet who’d been waiting inconspicuously in front of the theater. He went around to Nalia’s side and opened her door, shielding her from the passing cars.

“Are you all right?” he asked, as she stumbled out. She let him guide her onto the sidewalk, away from the glaring headlights.

After a few moments, she nodded. “I’m sorry.” She hated that she had to apologize to him—the words tasted like iron, coming out of her mouth. “It was the heat. I’m fine now.” She looked at him curiously. “Why
do
you always like it so damn hot?”

He frowned. “I feel unwell otherwise.” There was clearly more to it than that, but he didn’t elaborate. “Let’s get you inside.”

She tried to relax into his arm around her shoulder, but she was sure he felt her stiffness. A quick look at him didn’t reveal anything. Malek looked as in control of the world as ever.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

NALIA WASN’T SURPRISED TO SEE THAT MALEK HAD
rented out the whole theater. She couldn’t imagine him occupying the same space as average humans, sitting beside them during a film, or waiting in line to buy a ticket. A gangly teenager stood behind the concessions stand, eyeing them curiously, but other than that, they were alone. Nalia smiled despite herself. She was certain Malek didn’t know of her frequent attendance at Hollywood’s many cinemas. It was one of her favorite things about Earth—sharing a dark room with hundreds of strangers, immersing herself in a soup of raw emotion. Like the books, movies made her forget she wasn’t human. For a little while, she was right where she belonged.

Malek tilted his head to the side, watching her.

“What?” she asked, flushing.

His finger brushed her cheek. “Nothing,” he said. “It’s just nice to see you happy.”

She wasn’t happy. That would require wrists without shackles and dozens of jinn to come back from the dead. Happiness was Bashil in her arms and Arjinnan soil under her bare feet, not a date with her master. But Malek had caught her in an unguarded moment of enjoyment, something she’d have to beat herself up for later. How could she smile about anything when all that was left of her childhood were skeletons swinging under Arjinnan stars and a deep, gut-wrenching regret?

He walked toward the concession counter. “Do you want anything?”

She shook her head, but he got a tub of popcorn anyway, then guided her through the lobby, his hand on the small of her back. The black-and-white posters and warm light sconces that covered the walls gave way to a small hallway that led to the theater’s one auditorium. Faint music rippled from underneath the closed set of doors, a happy tune that clashed with the fear inside her. She’d rather face ten Ifritian assassins than sit alone with Malek in a darkened movie theater.

“After you,” he said.

His eyes were bright with excitement, and Nalia pushed through the doors, bemused. She almost missed the Malek of the past three years—his cruelty or indifference was so much easier to bear than whatever
this
was.

“As you can see, we have our pick,” he said, his arm sweeping over roughly two hundred empty seats in the intimate space.

A short, bald man wearing an old-fashioned suit played a piano near the stage at the front of the auditorium. He glanced over his shoulder and gave Malek a brief nod before continuing the jaunty Gershwin tune. A few spotlights focused on the red velvet curtains that hid the movie screen from sight. The room was dim, save for the spotlights and a few sconces on the walls.

“Where do you usually sit?” she asked.

He led her to the back row, under the cut-out for the projector. Nalia settled into the velvet seat beside Malek and he leaned back with a contented sigh as the curtains drew back and the projector shot a beam of light onto the blank screen.