Exquisite Captive (47 page)

She would be free or die trying.

The bottle was too small to stand in, so she remained on her knees. A black sea surged around Nalia as the bottle fought against the magic she’d brought into it, and she tumbled forward, reaching out to balance on one of the walls. The iron burned and she yanked her hand away.

Nalia closed her eyes. Her
chiaan
still blazed within her, strong and certain. Though the connection with Raif had been broken, she could feel the magic still working to release the binds. Nalia knew she wouldn’t be able to do any magic herself—the bottle had always forbidden it and she couldn’t risk giving her location away to Calar. But maybe because the unbinding had begun
before
Nalia evanesced, the bottle’s usual rules were suspended: for some reason, Raif’s magic was able to continue its journey through her body. Nalia ignored the no air, no space, no hope of the bottle and concentrated her whole being on those chains that had kept her on Earth for so long.

Then: light. Just a little at first, but then searing, brilliant—her shackles. Nalia raised her hands as Raif’s spell battled against the bottle’s suffocating magic. Heat billowed off the walls in waves and the iron began to melt, thick murdering globs of it sliding down the walls. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe, iron dripping from above into her eyes, her nose, her mouth—she was drowning in boiling poison.

“Hala mashinita, hala mashinita!”
Nalia cried out to the gods to save her, but they were silent. She was on her own—no gods, no Ghan Aisouri, no Raif.

Yet in that hopelessness, a thought grew into sudden certainty. She understood what Raif had meant in the rose garden, just a few nights ago when they had first met:
freedom is power.
In order to be free—truly free—she had to take ownership of the skin and bones and breath and blood that was Nalia Aisouri’Taifyeh. She needed to lay claim to herself in order for the bottle’s hold on her to be broken.

Nalia closed her eyes. Pose 621: Avenger. She crouched, centering herself as the bottle swayed from side to side like a storm-tossed boat. She found the rhythm and became one with it.

Then Nalia opened her eyes to the darkness.

Becoming free was the searing agony of cut flesh, as though she’d been physically attached to Malek and the
chiaan
was a knife that hacked its way through her body. Being free was a ripping, tearing, shredding of who she had become since joining the hopeless ranks of the dark caravan. She should have been slick with blood, something to show for the raging flames of magic burning through her, but there was nothing but the cloud of
chiaan
that held her in its furious clasp. The bottle began to spin, faster and faster, but Nalia stood her ground, her body fluid with the motion.

And then she felt it: the final cut.

Memories of the past three years flooded her mind: the first time she saw Malek, the countless clients, those terrifying stints in the bottle, Malek’s lips, hot on her own. The despair and fear of those years, the powerlessness, the grief—each moment stacked up inside her until she could hardly breathe with the horror of it all. Nalia’s shackles burst, showering her in a golden dust just as her fists crashed against the bottle’s walls. The walls fell away as Nalia’s body evanesced. Moments later, she stood in the center of the sacred circle, pieces of gold and jewels at her feet.

Power surged through her, familiar and wondrously strange. It pushed Nalia to her feet, so much of it and so fast that she felt as though she were about to explode. The pain of the unbinding withdrew, leaving behind an overwhelming euphoria. It was all Nalia could do not to fling her
chiaan
into the sky: she wanted to manifest a rainbow, a flock of doves—something to mark the beauty of this moment. But even in her sudden ecstasy, she remembered the magical trace Haran had put on her. Her freedom had been a result of marrying Raif’s magic to her own stubborn will to survive, but the moment Nalia directed her
chiaan
outside herself, the trace would be activated.

“Nalia!”

She looked at Raif, her own relief and joy mirrored in his face. She stumbled toward him and he caught her in his arms.

“Gods, I thought I was going to lose you again,” he whispered.

She wanted to sob and dance and scream and she pressed her lips against Raif’s, filling him with all of it, all of her. He spun her around and Nalia threw back her head, laughing at the stars.

When she was back on her feet, she leaned in for one more kiss. “Thank you,” she said.

He smiled. “Thank me when we get out of here alive.”

“Good point.”

They both turned to Zanari, the smiles on their faces freezing when they saw who was in her place.

“I have to hand it to you,
hayati
, you really know how to play dirty.”

Nalia slipped out of Raif’s arms and stared at the edge of the clearing, stunned. Malek stood a few feet away, casually pointing a gun in their direction. He held a cigarette with his other hand, filling the air with the scent of vanilla and cloves.

“Malek, don’t. Please, don’t,” Nalia whispered. This couldn’t be happening, not when they were so close.

He smiled, the old cruel one, and took a long drag of his cigarette. “I do so love it when you beg, Nalia.” He glanced at Raif for a moment. “What was it last time?” Malek rubbed his chin, as though he were deep in thought. “Oh, right.
Don’t leave,
that’s what you said, wasn’t it? The other night, when I came into your room.”

She was standing close enough to Raif that she could feel his fist clench, his entire body tensed and waiting to spring.

Nalia swallowed. She’d never seen Malek so calmly furious. How had he
found
her so quickly? How was he even
awake
?

“My sister.” Raif suddenly said, his voice panicked.

Nalia looked behind Malek, but the circle of earth Zanari had been sitting inside was empty.

“Oh, is
that
who that charming little jinni was?” Malek shrugged, taking another puff of his cigarette, unconcerned. “Well, I’m sure there are many places she could be. It’s a big city.”

Raif stepped forward, but Nalia put a hand on his arm. “Raif, don’t,” she whispered softly.

“Raif?” Malek said. He looked down at Nalia’s hand on Raif’s arm and she let it drop. “I was wondering how to address him. I have a few names to call him by, of course, but we’ll stick to Raif for now.”

Nalia only saw the misery in Malek’s eyes because she’d spent so much time trying to read his moods.

He pointed the gun at Raif’s chest. “Well, Raif, I strongly advise you to step away from my jinni. Touch her again and my face will be the last thing you see on Earth, do you understand me?”

“She’s not your jinni anymore,” Raif said.

Malek cocked his head to the side. “Oh, I don’t know about that. We always seem to work out our differences. I have all kinds of ways of persuading her.” He smiled at Nalia. “Don’t I,
hayati
?”

Zanari.

“Malek, what did you do with her?” Nalia said. He must have hypersuaded Zanari during the unbinding.

“Well, it’s really more of a question of what she did with herself,” Malek said. “Last I saw, your friend was walking down the PCH into oncoming traffic. Bit dangerous, don’t you think? It’s a dark road with lots of twists and turns. I doubt the drivers will see her in time.”

Raif’s eyes shot to Nalia’s, a look of horror flashing across his face.

“Who will it be, Raif?” Malek asked, not bothering to disguise the malice in his voice. “I’d hurry, if I were you. Time waits for no man.”

Raif held Nalia’s eyes. They begged her to understand: she did.

“Go,” she said to Raif, under her breath. He hesitated for another moment and she pushed him away. “She’ll die, Raif.
Go.
”

I love you,
he mouthed, his back to Malek. Raif’s body twisted and in seconds he’d evanesced from the clearing.

“Alone at last,” Malek said, now pointing the gun at Nalia. He took one more drag of his cigarette, then stubbed it out with his toe, frowning. “Though, I’ll be honest, this is a far cry from the plans I had for us tonight.”

Nalia said nothing. She watched Malek, thinking. They both knew a bullet from his gun would work faster than any magic she could conjure. The trace didn’t make things easier, either. If she used her
chiaan
, she had to be prepared for whatever Calar sent through the portal in search of her. There was only one way out of this problem that Nalia could see: Malek wanted something. She just needed to figure out what it was before Raif and Zanari returned. She prayed Raif got to his sister in time.

There was no emotion in Malek’s face, but as he moved closer to her, his eyes changed to a steady, glowing red. “I’m a little confused, Nalia. One minute we’re in bed and the next, Delson is waking me up, saying that he thinks you’ve run away again. I can barely keep my eyes open: obviously I’d been drugged, but it’s more than that. My bottle is gone. Luckily I have a tracking device in it—you can never be too careful with your investments.”

That
was how Malek had found her so quickly when she’d stolen the bottle the first time. Human technology always seemed to be her downfall.

“I get here,” Malek continued, “and, no surprise, one of my cars is parked off the road. And then I see you with
him
and I’m about to command you to return to me when I suddenly feel like someone is carving up my insides with a butter knife. You disappear into the bottle and then somehow
break it.
Care to explain?”

If Malek had still had the bottle around his neck, she would have begged, pleaded, got down on her knees. But for the first time, the only power he had over her was the gun in his hand; she was tired of men pointing them at her.

“Sure,” she said, “I’ll explain.” She took a step forward, daring Malek to shoot. “I am the last member of the jinn royal family and the rightful heir to the throne. I survived a coup that killed my entire race. I watched as the Ifrit whipped my brother until I could hardly recognize him, then dragged him off to a work camp where he’s dying
right now.
I am an empress who has been sold like cattle to a
pardjinn
with a massive chip on his shoulder, who gets off on controlling people and thinks love is something that can be bought with a fancy car and a few dresses from Rodeo Drive.”

“Stop,” he whispered.

Freedom is power.

“Do you want to know what it feels like, Malek, to be stuffed into a bottle your master wears around his neck, to be alone in the dark for months, with no air, iron poisoning your lungs, in a place where the only company you have is the memory of your mother saying the prayer for the dead as machine guns rip into her?”

She drew closer, her eyes never once leaving his. Malek stared at her, transfixed, the gun lowering to his side.

“You thought, what?” she whispered. “That I could love you? That we were going to live some happy life together because you’d suddenly decided you wanted me in your bed?”

He flinched, as though she’d slapped him, but she kept going.

“You
tortured me.
For years. I was a child and you took me away from my homeland. You made me grovel and beg for mercy when I wasn’t your perfect little slave. You treated me like a
fucking dog
, and I’m supposed to love you because of this?”

Nalia tore the lapis lazuli necklace from her throat, her lips now inches from his.

“I will never love you.”

She threw the necklace at his feet and Malek stared at it for a moment, silent. Nalia had expected to feel pleasure watching his heart break; all she felt when she saw the pain in his eyes was a dull throb.

“So you felt nothing for me?” he said quietly.

Dawn was stretching her fingers across the city as she awakened; Nalia stared at the dark ridge of the canyon set against the lightening sky.

“Nothing,” she whispered.

Malek reached out a hand and turned her face to his. She resisted, but his touch was firm, though gentle. “Not even when you had that nightmare? When I held you,” he whispered, his face inching toward hers, “and you clung to me?”

She stared at him, her cheeks warming.

The corner of Malek’s mouth turned up. “That’s what I thought.” He stepped away from her and raised the gun once again.

“Come on out, Zanari,” he called over his shoulder.

Nalia stared as Raif’s sister entered the clearing from the dense brush behind Malek. She had the glazed eyes of the hypersuaded, and when she reached his side he smiled benevolently at her and handed Zanari the gun.

“Put this against your head, my dear,” he said.

“
No.
Zanari. Don’t.
Don’t.
”

It was as if the other girl couldn’t hear Nalia at all. It was terrifying, seeing Zanari incapable of thinking for herself. She seemed perfectly happy holding a gun to her temple.

One word from Malek and she would shoot herself in the head.

“What do you want, Malek?” Nalia said.

“Well, that’s a loaded question, isn’t it?”

“Let her go and I’ll do anything you want.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Anything? Now that
is
an interesting proposition. Wonder what Raif would think about that. Do you do ‘anything’ for him?”

“Malek—”

“I will let her go if you grant me my third wish. Deal?”

“Deal,” she said immediately. Whatever it was, even if he wished for her to start granting on his behalf again, she would do it. For Zanari, for Raif. She couldn’t have any more blood on her hands.

“Look at me,” he said to Zanari. He grabbed her by the chin and roughly forced her to meet his eyes. “Go back to the car and sit in it until I release you.”

He took the gun out of her hand and she began to walk away.

“You’ve made your point, Malek. You win. What’s your wish?”

Malek looked at her, only his eyes betraying the emotion that hid underneath his now impassive face. “I was in Beirut to visit a seer whom I consult on a regular basis. There is something I have been searching for—something I thought I wanted more than anything else. Having it in my possession would have given me enormous power—in both my land and yours. So you can imagine what a difficult decision I was faced with when the seer said,
She whom you love can take you to that which you seek.
”