Tales of the Djinn: The Double (3 page)

“Then maybe I did mean it.”

“Have you done it before?”

“Are you saying I can’t try new things?”

He blinked again, then shook his head for good measure. Her actions might have taken him by surprise, but her instincts told her she hadn’t disgusted him. Before he could think too hard about it, she pulled free of his gradually diminishing erection. The water’s heated cradle felt amazing after that nice workout. Lying back, she let her pleasantly humming body float on the rippling waves. She almost didn’t want to close her eyes. The vaulted ceiling mosaic was as beautiful as a mosque.

Cade remained standing where he was, staring at her like he’d been poleaxed.

“Weren’t you going to work?” she asked, unable to resist twitting him.

“Yes,” he said. There was a pause. “Are you coming with me?”

“Yes,” she said, more gratified by the invitation than she let on. “I just need a minute to enjoy my afterglow.”

~

Arcadius woke just as the other him had an orgasm. He’d been dreaming of Iksander’s pool, of having energetic sex in it with the foreigner. The strong little human was wild for it. Her tight wet pussy bucked up and down his shaft like a rippling fist. Arcadius had never encountered such lack of inhibition in a female—or thought he could be that moved by sex. Drawn to the brink of madness, the other him exploded. Caught in the dream, Arcadius couldn’t stop his own body from going over in sympathy. He gasped as he ejaculated into the tangled sheets, the climax hard and pleasurable. This had happened last night too, when the apparently sex-crazed human had fellated his double to completion. Arcadius had been asleep and had shared the experience.

More than a bit dismayed, he rolled onto his back panting. He guessed the phenomenon hadn’t been a fluke. He and his copy truly were linked psychically.

Crap,
he thought, shoving sleep-mussed hair from his forehead. He should have strangled Joseph before he let the magician put this crazy plan for replicating them in motion.

Of course, the plan had been necessary. Their people had been threatened. And to a considerable extent, the stratagem had worked. Half the rescue squad had survived for certain—and half the Glorious City had woken up. That was a result even a dour man like him could be thankful for.

A rap sounded on his bedroom door, less polite than he was accustomed to. He grimaced. Whoever it was had probably been knocking for a while.

“One moment,” he called, getting up and grabbing the figured gray silk robe he’d thrown over a chair last night. He drew it around him and tied the belt, hopefully hiding the evidence of his recent loss of control. Dawn hadn’t broken. The room was an assortment of sparse shadows. Along with everything else, half the furnishings in his apartments were absent. Joseph, his trusted servant and magician, had miniaturized and packed up the things to make “Cade’s” stay in the human world homier.

The sneer was still on his lip as he yanked the door open.

Naturally, the djinni behind it shrank back at his expression.

“Sir,” said the tall older man. Though Arcadius didn’t interact with this particular servant often, his name snapped into his mind.

“Nechum?”

“Yes, commander. I’m very sorry to disturb you, but there’s a problem in the harem.”

“Can’t the eunuchs handle it?” Like a growing number of males in the modern world of their race, Arcadius considered the tradition of occupational castration archaic. He did understand it was hard to do away with. The families whose sons were chosen for the honor earned prestige and good salaries.

“None of the eunuchs woke,” Nechum answered. “All four remained statues.”

That was unfortunate. The women of the harem observed the rules of seclusion more scrupulously than any in the city. Silly as it would seem to a westerner like Cade’s human, they might have decided it would violate decorum to ask for help until a female checked on them.

Arcadius scratched his jaw stubble in concern. “Have they been brought food and drink? And given a chance to inquire after relatives?”

“Yes, sir. That’s how the problem was discovered. One of the women’s younger brothers seems to have gone missing.”

“Actually missing?” Arcadius asked. “Not simply petrified and misplaced?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know the details.”

“Do you think the woman would speak to me?”

“Doubtful, sir,” Nechum said. “My wife, who spoke to them, didn’t know who to refer them to. The matter seems to require someone with authority. If the
kadin
were alive . . .”

The
kadin
had been Iksander’s wife, his only lover while she was alive. Among other sins, Empress Luna had brutally murdered her. The
kadin’s
example gave Arcadius an idea he initially discarded. Unfortunately, no better solution appeared to replace it. He sighed briefly.

“My double’s consort has an air of initiative.” An air of rudeness was more like it, but in a pinch that might not matter.

“I observed the young lady yesterday,” Nechum said uncertainly. Arcadius concluded Elyse hadn’t made a positive impression.

“If the harem requires an advocate, she won’t be afraid to speak up.”

“That’s true,” Nechum admitted. “Shall I speak to the . . . other you?”

Because Arcadius was tempted, he shook his head. “I’ll handle it,” he said.

No one but he should have to instruct Cade’s woman in the minimum good manners that would be required of her.

Chapter Two

“YOUR
presence is required in the harem,” Arcadius announced.

Fortunately, Elyse and Cade had dressed—she in a modest long-sleeved tunic and silk trousers, Cade in vaguely military pants and a loose white shirt. He’d shrugged on a bandolier-like harness that held knives rather than bullets. Two curving scimitars were holstered at either hip. The jewels that glinted from their twenty-four karat handles were bright and beautiful. Because djinn loved decoration, she didn’t assume this meant the swords weren’t deadly. To Elyse’s very private amusement, Cade’s original was garbed almost identically—as if two high schools girls had texted each other the night before to coordinate outfits.

Less amusingly, Arcadius had ambushed them in the palace corridor on their way to Cade’s office. The double made no attempt not to look autocratic. He was actually sneering down his nose at her.

Because he was tall and she wasn’t, this didn’t take much effort.

“Look, you—” Cade began to retort hotly.

Elyse touched his tense forearm, the corded muscles bared by his rolled up cuff. “Let me try to handle this.”

Arcadius’s supercilious eyebrows indicated he thought this would be good.

“Okay,” she said, fighting anger and nervousness. She told herself this was no different than facing down an irrationally aggrieved tenant. Staying calm and keeping her wits about her was generally a wise approach. “I know it’s tradition for a lot of your females to live in a cloistered way, but that’s not what I’m accustomed to. I need to be useful and contribute. I’ll do what I can to avoid offending people’s sensibilities, but I am not, for any reason, going to allow myself to be locked up.”

“Are you finished?” Arcadius asked.

“I am,” she confirmed.

“In that case, I wasn’t suggesting you be ‘locked up,’ as you put it. Your presence is required because a problem has arisen in one the concubine’s families. She needs to speak to a female who has the ear of someone important.”

“What happened to the eunuchs?” Cade asked.

“As luck would have it, none of their statues woke. I believe the other harem staff have placed them in a pantry for safekeeping.”

Elyse shook her head to throw off her Alice-down-the-rabbit-hole reaction. “So the, um, concubine is okay with me as her go-between?”

Arcadius shrugged. “I assume she’ll be fine with it.”

Elyse wasn’t ready to assume anything. She’d seen how some djinn viewed humans.

“You can handle it,” her commander said. “Just remind yourself she needs your help.”

He was right. “Okay,” she said to Arcadius. “I guess I’m your volunteer.”

Arcadius gave her a curt head bow. “Follow me,” he said, already walking off.

“You take care of her,” Cade warned.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Arcadius threw back without turning.

Elyse couldn’t have said why, but the snapped retort reassured her she’d be perfectly safe with him.

~

When Arcadius said
follow
, he hadn’t been kidding. Elyse couldn’t have walked beside him even if she wanted to. She had to force her legs to move quickly to avoid being lost at forks in the corridors. As they passed various servants, all of them gaped at her.

It felt a bit degrading, to be truthful.

“Hey,” she finally said as the pace he set caused her to lose her breath. “You’ve got to have noticed my legs are shorter than yours.”

Arcadius halted and faced her. He looked her up and down, taking in her winded condition. It was strange to see her Cade’s gorgeous blue green eyes staring out from that stone-cool face. Could the two men really have started out as the same person?

“Forgive me,” he said in a way that didn’t let her know if he was sincere. “Djinn women walk faster.”

“Well, I’m not a djinni,” she said and out of childishness added, “duh.”

His lips might have twitched a fraction at one corner. “I apologize,” he said more convincingly. “I shall endeavor to moderate my strides. Here—” He dug into one pocket of his military style trousers. “You’ll draw fewer glances if you cover up that hair.”

That
hair—as if he thought her curls were as unattractive as she did.

He held out a length of gold-bordered leaf green silk. Elyse didn’t like admitting it was beautiful.

“I can arrange it if you don’t know how,” he offered.

Elyse was from Manhattan, fashion capitol of the world. She might not look like a model, but she knew how to do a scarf. She snatched the gorgeous thing from his hand, whipping it around her head to drape it fetchingly. If Elyse’s chichi cousin hadn’t turned homicidal, Cara would have been proud of her.

Arcadius seemed startled by her performance. “That’s fine.” He cleared his throat. “The . . . color suits your eyes.”

Elyse gave him an innocent smile.

Arcadius blinked. “Right. Once we cross the courtyard at the end of this corridor, we’ll have reached the harem.”

To herself, Elyse acknowledged she was curious to see it. The building appeared to be a palace within the palace. A double perimeter of white walls protected it, each with its own golden door. Arcadius was allowed to pass the first but not the second. A tea pavilion covered in pink bougainvillea supplied him a place to wait.

“From here you proceed alone,” he said. “The less you speak and the more you listen the better you’ll suit everyone’s purposes. I’ll need you to repeat what you heard afterwards.”

“Can’t I take notes?” she asked.

“It is not permitted to record the words of the sultan’s women.”

“Well, heck,” she said.

To her surprise, Arcadius smiled at her. “Just relax, maintain your focus, and you’ll be fine. I’m good at helping people to remember.”

She guessed he’d have to be, if he debriefed soldiers and whatnot.

Okay,
she thought, squaring up her taut shoulders.
Into the fray go I.

The fray turned out to be a peaceful and very luxurious oasis. The main harem room was huge with lots of windows set high up on the mosaic walls. Crowned by a soaring dome, the predominant colors were pale gold and silvery sage. The women—nearly a hundred, by her count—seemed dressed to coordinate. Their pastel hued gowns were an opium smoker’s dream, silk and velvet and lots of filmy, transparent stuff. The women’s skirts were long but boobage abounded—most of it excellent. Jewels abounded too, their settings and stones so stunning Harry Winston’s ghost would have wept with envy. Elyse supposed the women were allowed to show off among themselves. She saw a number of headscarves like her own but only a few veiled faces.

“Please wait,” said the servant who’d led her to the entry arch.

Elyse waited while an important looking older woman rose from a heap of pillows and came forward. She was one of the females who covered everything but her eyes. They were outlined with kohl and slightly hard looking.

Not a person to mess with, Elyse thought.

“I am the
valide sultana
,” the woman announced in a stately tone. “Mother to Iksander, our great sultan.”

Since it seemed appropriate, Elyse bowed. “I’m Elyse.” She hesitated. Probably she needed a title. “Friend to the Glorious City’s guardian.”

Elyse guessed that was okay. The sultan’s mom bowed back—not very deeply, she noted.

“The girl who requested your assistance is in her quarters.”

That was good. This salon or whatever they called it was too distracting for Elyse to concentrate.

The same female servant as before led her down a smaller hall. One of the many onion-arched doors that lined it stood open. With a graceful bow, the servant gestured for her to go inside.

If this were a prison, it was a lovely one. The room was a silk-lined jewel box. Decorated in spicy shades of red and orange, a single high window with an ornate grate provided natural light. Colored glass lanterns supplemented that, pushing the dimness back further. In the center of the room, a woman sat on her heels on a floor cushion. Her head was lowered, her palms resting calmly on her gowned thighs, like a very polite geisha. Her hair was draped with a length of silk.

Elyse couldn’t see her face until she looked up.

She gasped out loud before she could stop herself. The djinni was the spitting image of a famous Bollywood actress. Framed by incredibly thick dark lashes, her doe eyes were gray and soft, her skin pure cream brushed generously with roses. Her mouth seemed naturally full and red. Elyse doubted many men could see it without wanting to kiss her.

“Sorry,” Elyse said in response to the lift of the djinni’s brows. “I don’t think I’ve met anyone as beautiful as you in person.”

The djinni smiled, and Elyse’s heart actually skipped. With women like this in his harem, Iksander’s faithfulness to his wife became impressive.