OF WISHES AND NIGHTMARES

ONCE UPON A DARKENED NIGHT BOOK XIII

NICOLE ZOLTACK

Copyright © 2018 by Nicole Zoltack

Cover Artist: Desiree DeOrto

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Other Books By Nicole Zoltack

Acknowledgments

About the Author

To those who grew up with fairy tales and have never quite ever wanted to leave the land of make believe behind.

CHAPTER 1

A mesta, somewhere in the Mulish Desert, the fifth of December 1390

T  he lamp is rustic, old, dingy. Honestly, it resembles a piece of garbage, something so easily overlooked, easily ignored or forgotten.

But it is not an ordinary lamp. No. It is the lamp, and it has slipped through my fingers.

I, Jabir Nagi, have none to blame but myself. For the life of me, I accurse the past five minutes.

Already, Aali Zaman has rubbed the lamp, and red and black smoke billows out. Slowly, a shape forms in the smoke, that of a large, muscular torso and then a head. The genie’s skin is a lavender color, his eyes a bright orange that bores through the vile Aali.

“I am Kamal Hakim,” the genie said in a voice tempered from disuse. “What is it you wish for, my master?”

I shudder and do my best to try to stand. Aali’s vicious attack has left me broken and bruised. How can I stand against him when I cannot even rise up to be on my feet?

Still, I do my best to crawl toward him. Slowly, I inch closer despite the agonizing pain that pierces through my body. Aali does not seem to notice me, but I remain too far away. He has taken up a perch on a steep sand dune, and I cannot climb up it. The sand trickles through my fingers, and whenever I make some progress, I then slide back down. Honestly, it is a miracle I can even crawl right now.

“Genie, I wish to be the sultan of Amesta,” Aali says in his raspy, throaty voice.

Too late, I scream in a vain attempt to drown out his words so that the genie cannot hear and therefore cannot fulfill his wish. Alas, that is not to be.

The genie bows its head and then nods. Immediately, the royal bronze and silver crown that the Sultan of Amesta wears appears on Aali’s head. His clothes change from sandy, dust-covered, simple attire to rich silks in various dyed hues.

An aura surrounds Aali now. A sense of power and entitlement that he lacked before overwhelms him.

By now, I have reached the halfway point up the steep incline of the sand dune. Aali’s sharp, vulture-like gaze pierces me, and he stalks toward me, marching as stiffly as any sentinel. He stomps on my fingers and then kicks me straight in the face. Luckily, he makes contact with my jaw instead of my nose or else he might have broken it.

I tumble backward, head over heels, all the way back down to the bottom. Dazed, I rest there.

“Go on,” Aali says, stomping over to tower above my crumbled form. “Run. My guards will find you, and you will rot in prison. Or perhaps I will have you killed. I may even kill you myself. It is time for a new age to dawn in Amesta. The rich nobles have taken and abused the poor for far too long.”

“You have a genie.” I spit out sand, but the grittiness remains in my mouth from when I forcibly kissed the sand during my tumble. “You have already made your first wish. Use your power wisely. You could—”

“I know what I can and cannot do. I will decide what to do. You have no say, Jabir Nagi. You have no control over me. I will do as I wish. I am sultan.”

Dimly, I worry that his being sultan means the previous sultan has been killed. I hope not. He was a good and kind sultan, but I fear and worry for the future, for what Aali may do.

There is nothing I can do as Aali saunters away. I do try to trip him, but my hand misses. I do not even touch his sandal.

Far too quickly, Aali climbs onto his camel and rides away. I cannot follow quickly enough. In fact, it takes me three hours to leave the desert behind for the city proper. There, I learn the truth of Aali’s first acts as sultan.

Before, the sultan was the ruler, yes, but he had advisors, and to some extent, each noble had a small say. Now, however, Aali has not only gotten rid of all of the advisors, but he has also stripped all power from the nobles. Even worse, he has taken all of the gold for himself.

What exactly he plans to do with the gold, I do not know, but that he has given himself all of the power in Amesta worries me greatly. At one point, Aali used to be a street urchin. He used to have nothing at all. Ambition I can understand and even appreciate. But to climb up by cutting down others, to cry about being oppressed and then becoming the oppressor... Doesn't Aali realize that he is becoming that which he hated most?

Well, so far at least, it does not seem as if the people are suffering. Yes, the nobles are poor and powerless now, but they have not lost everything. Not yet at least.

But it is only a matter of time. I can see it clearly. Aali’s thirst for power and wealth will not end. This is only the beginning.

Who can dare to try to stop him? While I fear I will fail, I will do my best. Aali will not ruin the country I love. No. I will do whatever I can to ensure that Amesta thrives. Yes, the country has not been a paradise for everyone within its borders. If only Aali could have tried to help the poor without tearing down the nobles!

I am not even a noble myself, but I have done well enough. Well, I did well enough until I attempted to find magic. Then, everything turned into a complex, complicated nightmare.

With the lamp, I wanted to infuse the world with magic, as magic seems to be dying all over the world. Without the lamp, I fear that one day, perhaps one day soon, magic will be entirely wiped out. Depending on how much wealth and power Aali has amassed by then, there is no telling if it will be possible to stop him.

CHAPTER 2

A mesta, Nagi Adobe, the third of May 1373

M any moons ago, when I was enjoying my fifth year of life, I went on a walk with my father. He was a tall man, stern and fierce. A soldier through and through. I wanted to be just like him when I grew up.

Today, however, my father would not stop laughing. I was jumping from one rock to another, pretending that the sand was lava. Never would I allow myself to be burned.

“You have quite an imagination,” my father said.

“Yes.” We were standing behind our house, waiting for my mother to return. She had gone off to the market to sell some of her cloths.

“It’s almost magical.” My father stopped watching me and glanced upward at the setting sun. The horizon streaked with oranges and reds, a beautiful sight.

“Magical,” I repeated. “I want magic.”

“Do you now?”

I nodded vigorously. “Can I?”

My father smiled. It wasn’t often that he did, which often made me sad. My mother would smile all the time. I was often too busy jumping, running, or asking questions to smile.

“Humans do not have magic,” my father explained. “Fairies do. They are tiny creatures with wings. They tend to be tricksters. You can’t trust them.”

“Maybe I can trick one into giving me magic,” I said. Even though he said humans didn’t have magic, I so desperately wanted it that I could hardly believe him.

“It is doubtful you’ll ever see any. They live far away. Near Essencia and Fantasia. Perhaps a few other locations but none in the desert, I’m afraid.”

I wrinkled my nose. “That’s no fun.”

“Perhaps not.”

How strange. My father was smiling again. Twice in one day was a rare occurrence indeed.

“Witches also have magic. They are rather similar to humans apart from their magical nature.”

“Maybe I’m a witch and not a human,” I said eagerly.

Father shook his head. “I am decidedly human, as is your mother. Without a witch for a parent, I fear that you are human as well.”

Dejected, I hung my head and kicked a stone.

“Genies also have magic, too,” my father continued. “They can be like humans, but they are separate. An entirely new race. They can change form.”

“Change form?” I asked, confused. I hopped from one foot to the other, back and forth.

“One minute, they can appear to be a man and the next, a goat. Or sheep. Or a minotaur.”

“A minotaur?”

“Minotaurs no longer exist. They ruled a region far to the south, I believe. They were men who had the head of a bull. You can always tell by their eyes as well if the creature is a minotaur or a human because even the bull’s head of a minotaur has human eyes.”

“Why are there no more minotaurs?”

“Because people feared them. For a time, people thought giants might also become hunted to the point of extinction. I do believe they have found a home, though.”

“Ah.” I paused, stopping my hopping. “Genies must be more powerful than even witches if they can change their form.”

“To some extent, yes.”

I frowned. “How aren’t they?” In my mind, I already was picturing the genies to be the most powerful beings in the world.

“Because a genie can be captured in a lamp. Once captured, the genie remains trapped. As long as they bound to the lamp, they cannot change form. If someone rubs the lamp, the genie is summoned and most grant that someone three wishes.”

“I have to find a genie then,” I said, as excited as could be. “Then, I can wish to become a genie! I could change into a hawk or a snake or a lizard.” I stuck out my tongue and dropped to all fours, crawling about.

My father shook his head. Gone were his laughter and smiles.

Confused, I stood back up and brushed the sand from my hands. “What is it?”

“There are few genies left in the world,” my father said. “In order for you to find one to grant you a wish…”

“They have to be trapped first.” I wrinkled my nose. “That doesn’t sound like a lot of fun. Why would anyone trap a genie?”

“I think it started as a form of punishment for genies who attacked and abused their power. I don’t know all of the answers, my son. Come along inside. Your mother will be back shortly.”

My father entered our mudhouse, but I lingered outside. I tried to fly but only fell flat on my face. I tried to make fire out of nothing but only gave myself hot hands from rubbing so fast. I tried to move the sand but only could when I kicked my foot in frustration.

I had no magic. It hardly seemed fair that some people had magic while others had none. As I went to bed that night, I wondered if I would ever meet a magical being. Little did I know I would come to rue that day.

CHAPTER 3

A mesta, Sultan Aali’s Palace, the seventh of December 1390

O nly two days have passed since Aali has assumed the role of Sultan of Amesta, and already, he is causing havoc throughout the country.

The nobles are beginning to complain, but Aali does not care about his people. He does not even care about the poor, a fact that I would find most amusing if he were not so terrible and cruel. Well, perhaps amusing is not the best term for it. Ironic, yes. That is more apt.

My body is slowly healing from my wounds, and when Aali summons his army, I have no choice but to accompany my fellow men.

The palace is a love, breathtaking piece of work. With wide domes and spiral columns, the all-in-white palace is awe-inspiring. The rich, vibrant greenery in the courtyard is found nowhere else in the entire Kingdom of Amesta.

The kingdom is a barren desert, but at least it has many oasis and a few sand caves to provide shelter from the terrible sun. The heat during the day causes the animals to hide. Our houses are made from mud so as to keep away both the temperature and the sand that blows. Sandstorms are a common occurrence, but not here, not at the palace. The tall walls surrounding the courtyard and palace prevent even a single grain of sand from entering the palace proper.

In these two days, my wounds have mostly healed, which is good enough, I suppose, but I am far too devastated by my failure. I hardly can smile at the sight of the palace. For years now, I have been a faithful and loyal soldier for Amesta. I always grinned whenever I approached the sultan’s dwelling place. Now, however, all I can do is to flatten my frown, my lips now a straight line.

The other members of the army and myself have all been summoned here by Aali. I fear the plans he has for us. That I am bound by oath and duty to obey him leaves me disgusted. At one time, he had not been so vile, so repulsive. It is astonishing how much hatred can shape a man. As much as I tried to help him, only darkness colors his heart.

Once all of the soldiers trickle into the courtyard, Aali appears in the tallest, widest balcony. He holds out his arms wide, grinning broadly. A glint in his eyes calls to mind madness, but perhaps I am merely seeing things.

“You, the Army of Amesta,” Aali calls, his voice loud and booming.

Gone is the quiet, timid street urchin. Although, perhaps I had been wrong to ever considering him timid. Even then, he stole without a thought and suffered no remorse.

“You will do my bidding,” Aali continues. “I am your new sultan, and all I wish you will fulfill.”

I wince at hearing the word wish from his lips. As far as I can tell, he has not asked for his second wish yet. Why not? What is it he will wish for next?

For these past two days, I have struggled in vain to find the previous sultan. He is nowhere to be found. Aali’s wish to replace him might well have caused his death, but then, where is his body? As much as I would like to help the previous sultan, I cannot. I must learn of Aali’s next move.

“I wish for you all to travel to Nahi,” Aali says.

I gulp. Nahi is a neighboring kingdom, also a desert region. Our two kingdoms have known peace for over a century. Previous to that, peace, chaos, devastation, and war raged between the two sides. The conflict lasted for nearly the entire century beforehand.

“You will invade Nahi,” Aali commands.

I bite my lower lip and clench my fists so tightly my arms shake. All he wishes to do is to gain more wealth and power. Does he not see that the world is not merely for himself? So many other countless people comprise the world, yet his only concern is himself. A true sultan cares about everyone, even those who live outside of his borders.

Aali was never meant to be sultan. Power can harm a man far more greatly than hunger or desperation.

“Kill those who oppose you,” the sullen sultan states. “Enslave those who get in your way. I do not care if you must kill every last person in that desert. Wipe them out and deliver me Nahi, and you will be rewarded.”

I’m so shocked and horrified that simply shaking my head is all I am capable of. The other soldiers all nod and then lower to their knees and touch their foreheads to the ground in a sign of utmost respect to the sultan. I do not, and I swear Aali finds me in the crowd. His glower leaves me shuddering.

The army marches out to arm up. As the men seek to put on their armor, I go up to as many of them as I can. The conversation is always the same.

“Nahi is our ally,” I say desperately. “We cannot invade them. The peace will be shattered!”

“We must do as the sultan wishes.”

That’s all they say. “We must do as the sultan wishes.”

They accept him entirely. They will kill for him, enslave for him. It even seems as if they are willing to murder women and children for him! I cannot be more worried or disgusted. The genie has certain made Aali’s wish to be sultan a reality. He has the backing of the entire army.

All but me. Why is that? Because I see through him to the hateful, spiteful man he has always been? I do not know the answer, but I do know this. I will not stop until Aali has been contained. Whether through death or imprisonment, Aali will face the consequences of his devastating actions.

CHAPTER 4

A mesta, Nagi Adobe, the tenth of March 1382

T  he year that I turned fourteen was a year when I learned a most valuable lesson. At the time, my father was one of the advisors to the sultan. He would go and spend hours at the palace each and every day. Sometimes, he would not return at night. I spent so much time with my mother that it felt as if only the two of us comprised our family.

On the tenth of March, however, my father returned home early, while the sun was still rising yet. In fact, I almost thought that he hadn’t left yet.

Father kissed my mother and turned to me. “I will be leaving for a few days.”

“Where to?” I asked, curious.

I was amazed that my father was an advisor. Maybe I would advise a great sultan one day. Before being chosen as an advisor, my father had been one of the few farmers. Living in the desert, we get so little rain that crops tend to not even grow at all. They cannot stand the barren land. However, my father had discovered just how much water cacti have within them. Over the years, he had learned just how much water he could take from each cacti that allowed them to still survive. The water was then used deep within the soil so that the sun could not dry it out again. Crops were growing. Because of his great mind, the sultan exalted him, once my father taught other men how to make use of his cacti water-stealing ways.

“Beldurra,” my father answered.

I frowned, confused. “Why would you go there?”

“Because my sultan asked that of me.”

Frustrated, I exhaled through my nose. “Mother,” I whined.

Mother patted Father’s shoulder and directed him to sit at the table with me where I was breaking my fast with some oats and nuts.

“You can tell him,” she instructed my father.

My father appraised me with his critical steely gaze. “The sultan has tasked me with the quest of locating a magical ring.”

My eyes widened. I was nearly a decade older than when I'd first learned about fairies, witches, and genies, but I still loved the notion of magic. It made the world seem full of limitless possibilities.

“Are you certain it is in Beldurra?” I asked, trying to hide my eagerness.

My father shook his head and stroked his long, dark beard. “It might be in Zoriontsu. It could be any number of places. It might even be here in Amesta. The magical ring is said to have belonged to one of the greatest sultans ever. The properties of it are legendary. It could even grant men the ability to breathe fire.”

My jaw dropped in amazement. “That is wonderful!” I cried.

“Not so,” my mother said crossly.

I hung my head. When I was seven, I had jumped over a fire and nearly burned my rump. Ever since, my mother had hated fire.

“Why does the sultan want to have the ring?” I asked.

“That I do not know. Perhaps he has dreamed about it.”

“Ah.”

The sultan had often had dreams that would come true. Visions of a sort. My father assumed this meant that one of the sultan’s ancestors must have been a witch. I wished that had been the case for me.

But if I couldn’t have magic myself, perhaps I could locate the magical ring or even a different one. That would be almost as good.

“What does the ring look like?” I asked curiously.

“It is gold with a large black stone.” My father accepted a bowl from my mother and began to eat. “I will leave as soon as I am packed.”

If I found the ring, I could try to use it first before handing it over to the sultan. As much as I would like to, I couldn’t keep it for myself. Maybe the sultan would be so impressed, he’d make sure that I could be an advisor when I was older.

Thrilled at the possibility, I shoved in the rest of my food. Not even bothering to pack, I set out for Zoriontsu since my father was going to scour Beldurra.

Before I could even reach the small desert kingdom, I noticed a man was walking behind me. Soon, another joined him. And a third. I began to run, glancing over my shoulder. The men also started to race, chasing after me.

I whirled around, my fists raised, but the men were all so much taller than me. All three had size on me as well. The first smacked me upside the head. I managed to hit the second on his nose, but the third wrapped his arm around my throat, lifting me into the air. I couldn’t breathe. I could feel my face turn red. The other two men were reaching for my coin pouch. Little did the foolish thieves realize that the pouch was empty.

That they overwhelmed me should had frightened me, but all I felt was fury. I struggled against the man’s hold, kicking him, scratching at his arm, even biting his arm. It wasn’t until my heel connected with a certain key location that the man released his hold on me with a yelp.

I collapsed to the ground, chocking and sucking down air. The thieves started toward me when I heard the familiar sound of a camel plodding along. They heard it too, and the thieves bolted.

Still breathless, I staggered to my feet. There, on our family camel, was my father.

“What are you doing here?” I asked between gasps for more air.

“I should be the one asking you that.” Father reached down to grip the back of my shirt and yanked me onto the camel in front of him.

Without another word, my father brought me back home. To this day, I do not know if he'd followed me from the start or if he'd realized I had gone.

Once we returned to our mudhouse, I apologized to my father, who merely shook his head.

“It is I who should apologize,” he declared.

Confused, I furrowed my brow. “I don’t understand.”

“You are far too weak, and that is my fault. You landed a punch but only because of luck, and you had no power behind it. You must be trained how to fight. I will find you a soldier to start teaching you in the morning. After that is established, I will go and find the magical ring if I can. Can I trust you to stay here?”

I was thrilled not to be punished and eager to learn how to fight, so I nodded vigorously.

And I did learn how to fight, to become strong and powerful and brave. The training was not easy, but I stuck with it, and eventually, I began to excel. It was during this year that I realized I most wished to be a soldier if I could not be an advisor. Either way, I wished to serve the sultan. That was to be my duty, my role, my goal. Always.

CHAPTER 5

N ahi, somewhere in the Mulish Desert, the fourteenth of December 1390

F or an entire week now, I have done all I can to sabotage the efforts of my fellow soldiers. That they, good and decent men, will blindly follow terrible, repulsive orders disgusts me. Do they not have brains? Consciences? Do they not see the horror and chaos and panic we are instilling within the people of a peaceful nation?

Three more night pass, and we find ourselves at yet another village. So far, the other soldiers only have to kill three or so men in order for the village to collapse and cave to Amesta rule. The Kingdom of Nahi takes up half of the Mulish Desert and is comprised of many separate villages. They are so far removed from each other, though, that their army cannot move fast enough to reach us. They cannot stop us.

I cannot stop us.

This village, though, is called Fede, and I can tell immediately that it will not be the same. This village is near their palace, I do believe, and as such, it has more soldiers than all of the others we have come across so far.

Despite my pleading with the other soldiers, they go forth and kill three men.

The villagers do not surrender. They spit in our faces and wave their spears and shovels and other weapons. They are bound and determine to remain free.

I like them all immensely. They are not cowards but brave and loyal men. Women too. I even see a few children holding up rocks.

They have painted dots around their eyes, red for the men, white for the women. Their garments are the same sand-colored cloths that we wear beneath our armor. We are not so different, those of Fede and ourselves. Why must we attack them? Enslave them? How many men, women, and children have we already sent back to Amesta to serve our villainous sultan as slaves?

Thankfully, even Aali’s loyal soldiers are hesitant to kill an entire village. I convince the marshal to send men back to Aali to ask what he wishes to be done. Certainly, I fear that the sultan will demand that we must overtake the village at any cost, but I refuse to give in.

For two days, we wait for our messengers to return, and for those two days, I endeavor to convince my fellow soldiers that we must stop this madness. Just as it seems that I may have a few others on my side, the messengers return.

The order from the sultan?

That the entire village is to be offered one last chance, and if they refuse to surrender again, we are to slaughter them all. Every last one of them. An example, Aali has decreed. We must make an example of them.

Just hearing the orders is enough to make the blood in my veins turn to ice. I have never felt so cold. It is repulsive what the sultan would have us do.

“We have no choice,” the marshal says. He is a tall man, powerfully built. He looks like a bull, and he acts like one. Several time in the previous melees, I have witnessed him headbutt another man.

“There is always a choice,” I protest.

The marshal wrinkles his nose. “You would have us defile our sultan?” he asks gruffly, and I do not miss that he lifts his spear slightly so that he could easily shift it into position to skewer me.

“I would have us wait until morning to offer the villagers their last chance,” I say desperately. It is only the early afternoon, though, so I do not doubt that the mayor will reject my suggestion outright.

Instead, he strokes his neatly trimmed black goatee. “I suppose we can wait. Give them more time to consider. They know we will ask them again. Very well. Men, drink up. Help yourselves to food, but do not talk to the villagers.”

The soldiers gladly drink all their water and eat all their food—their being the villagers' supplies and not from our own stores. A few of the youngest children cry, but the men and women eye us with disgust and hatred. Their anger is visible in their stiffness, in their set mouths, in the tightness of their jaws.

They will never surrender.

While I appreciate their drive and determination to not be enslaved, I fear for them. They may have a fierce fighting spirit, but they do not have the numbers. They do not have any armor. They will fight, and then, they will die.

No. I have been far too complacent. I have not killed one of the men so far, but in not stopping the others, I have allowed it to happen. I may as well been the one to pierce their stomachs. I cannot stand aside and watch the other soldiers kill these innocents. I will never forgive myself if I were to.

As soon as the sun sets, I slip away from the tents and mudhouses the soldiers have claimed. The villagers have retreated deeper into Fede, and it takes me some time to find them. They are huddled in the courtyard of their palace. I hadn’t realized their palace is in Fede proper. No wonder the people here are so desperate to defend their home.

I scale the wall and drop down into the courtyard. Immediately, twenty spears are all pointed toward me. The faces of the villagers are half-covered in shadows, but still, that glint of anger in their eyes is ever-present.

Slowly, I lift my hands. “I am not armed,” I say.

“Why are you here?” a man calls.

The men with the spears pointed at me shift slightly so the speaker can approach. A female approaches behind him. She wears a tight band of cloth around her breasts, but her pants are more flowing and free moving than most of the others. No dots decorate around her eyes. Her hair seems to be pure blackness, although that might be from the darkness of the night. For some reason, I feel as if I should address her and not the man.

Instead, I lower my gaze to the ground and address the entire assembly. “I am a man,” I say.

“You are a soldier,” the man hisses. “You are from Amesta! You seek to trick us!”

“Never!” I lift my chin and raise a hand to my chest to cover my heart. My other hand points to the cloud-covered moon. “I am a solider, or rather, I was a solider. No longer. I want no part of Amesta any longer. No while Aali is pretending to be sultan.”

The man spits. His saliva lands on my sandals. I grimace but do not flinch or flick the spit from my foot.

“I do not condone what Aali is doing,” I say desperately. “Come the morning sun, his soldiers will ask you one last time to surrender. When you refuse, the soldiers have been ordered to kill you all.”

“Children too?” the woman asks softly. There is a surprising amount of power in her voice. Her eyes do not share the others’ anger. Instead, there is much sadness, and sorrow colors her question.

I nod, unable to vocalize that travesty.

Murmurs rifle through the crowd, and I grimace. If they will not flee, they will die.

“If you stand against them, you will fail,” I say grimly. “What then would be the point? Would it not be better to find another village, alert them to the threat, gather their soldiers and continue onward so that you may have the numbers to take on the brunt of Amesta’s might?”

“You would have us feel in the night like cowards?” the man roars.

“You’ve already proven yourself to be a coward,” another man says. He jabs his spear forward enough to catch me in the throat.

“If you consider me a coward for deserting because I will not kill innocents, then, yes, I am a coward. I would rather be a coward than do that which Aali wants from me. I am a man. I wish to help save you. Please. I…”

I swallow hard and blink back sudden tears. Still, I can hear the cries from the family members of those villagers already slaughtered. I can hear the groveling of the villagers as they fell to their knees on the rough sand. I can smell the loosed bowels of the fallen men, the stench of death and decay, the foul odor of unwashed bodies. All of it is a reminder of my failures.

“Do not allow me to fail you,” I murmur. “I have failed to stop the soldiers. I have tried. I must do something else. I must help you.”

“Why must you?” the woman asks curiously.

I just shake my head. The connection between Aali and myself is not one I wish to divulge. Perhaps if I had… but no. Aali is his own person. His sins are his own. I am not responsible for his actions, but I can and will do my best to thwart those same actions.

“Nahi has an army, yes?” I ask desperately.

“The previous sultan disbanded most of the army,” the man said. “But that does not matter. Each and every one of us from the age of five is taught how to fight. And fight we will.”

The woman shakes her head.

The man nods. “We will fight but not tomorrow. Come. We must hurry if we are to flee. Take nothing with you. We do not have time. We must be more silent than a snake. We must cover our tracks. We must move and move quickly.”

The men holding their spears to me lower their weapons and move into formation. The woman and children are in front, the men behind. The one man continues to dictate orders, and soon, they begin to march.

The woman stands beside me, and I turn to her.

“Where is your sultan?” I ask.

“He has already been trying to organize the villagers,” she states. “Do not worry. We can handle ourselves.”

“I do worry,” I protest. “Let me come with you and—”

“Why?” she asks, her tone suddenly harsh and forceful. “How do I know that you are not trying to force us into a trap?”

“Considering I do not know which village you are going to next, I do not think I can give the marshal much useful information,” I say dryly. “Not that I would. I am coming with you. Give me a spear and—”

“And I will do no such thing. I do not want your aid.”

“What you want does not matter. The people of Nahi —”

“Are my people,” she says. Her eyes flash as her hands fall to her hips.

Ah, yes. The Sultan of Nahi has a daughter, and I am now certain she is the woman before me. How could I have not realized this before now? I met her many years before, after all, and for quite some time, I could think of none other than her. Perhaps I hoped to see her here, and perhaps I also feared that I would see her dead body and not her wide smile.

I bow to her. “Forgive me,” I murmur. “I did not recognize you—”

Basma Karimi waves her hand. “I do not need you to bow to me. You are not one of my people.”

“No, but you and I both wish for your people to live. What can I do to convince you that I mean you no harm?”

She hesitates and shakes her head. “You are a risk. Even if I were to believe that your intentions are pure, I must consider the consequences. The marshal in charge of your army will choose to believe that we kidnapped you, that you are a prisoner of war. They will come after us, and then, they will kill you. They will say you have been compromised. You know it to be true.”

I cannot deny her thought process. “What would you have me do?” I ask quietly. “I am a deserter. I cannot go back.”

“They will not have known you to desert yet. They think you sleeping, yes?”

I nod, confused, uncertain what she is planning.

“You have given us a head start,” she murmurs. “For that, I am most appreciative. I do believe that you are speaking the truth. You mean us no harm and only to help us.”

“So let me help you,” I plead. “Allow me to come with you. I am a skilled fighter and—”

“You do not need the spear to fight for us,” she says softly. “And you do not need to come with us.”

“But—”

“Listen, please.”

I nod. By now, all of her people have fled the courtyard. They must move more quickly if they seek to avoid detection. They need as much space between themselves and the army that will pursue them come the morning.

“You have already saved us, but there is a way you can help us more. Please, return to the army. Divert them to the west if you can. We will head northward. If you must find me to warn me, follow the cacti with purple roses.”

I nod. “Of course, Imperial Princess Basma. Whatever you need. I will do my best to ensure you and your people remain safe.”

The imperial princess appraises me critically. “I am risking the life of my people by telling you where we are going. Do not let me down or else I will slice you into pieces and feed you to the crows.”

Despite myself, I realize the corners of my lips are curling upward. “I would rather not be a feast for the crows. You are rather scary.”

“I am not,” she protests. “I am determined.”

“As am I,” I say firmly. “You do not need to threaten me.”

“Oh, that wasn’t a threat. It was a promise.”

“One you won’t have to worry about fulfilling,” I assure her.

“I don’t doubt that you are right. Go now, before you are spotted here.”

I nod to her, hesitate before deciding not to bow, and turn to the wall.

“Wait.”

Surprised, I whirl around.

“I would have your name.”

My smile grows. “Jabir Nagi.”

“Jabir Nagi,” she repeats. “There are a lot of crows here.”

“I hope they all starve.”

She laughs. “Perhaps they will, or perhaps…” Her gaze drifts in the direction of the Amestan army.

“Perhaps. Fare thee well, Imperial Princess Basma. Stay safe.”

“You too,” she murmurs. “I fear more for you than I do myself.”

With that, she slinks off into the distance, blending into the darkness.

As for me, I slip back over the wall of the courtyard and make my way back to the Amestan area. One of the guards stops me, but I explain I was relieving my bladder. No one else questions me, and I feign sleep. Rest will not come tonight. I am too worried and preoccupied by the lovely, fearsome imperial princess, and I am afraid my dreams would concern her. If I am to survive, I cannot and will not allow myself to be distracted.

CHAPTER 6

A mesta, Amesta Palace, the first of January 1384

When a man or woman turned sixteen, they could join the army. I had been training for this since my father forced me to learn how to fight and defend myself. He could not have been more pleased with my progress. At least, that was what my mother said. My father had died last year of a cough.

“You are so grown up,” my mother said, patting my cheek the morning of the ceremony when I would be inducted into the army. The first day of the year, which was also my birthday.

“Thank you.” I straightened my sand-colored tunic. More times than not, we did not wear dyed clothing. Soldiers never did. The ability to camouflage with our surroundings was far too important. It could prove vital and save our lives should we ever battle.

Not that there had been a single battle during my entire sixteen years. The world was at peace. Which was a good thing. I knew that, but I also did wish to fight in a battle. That was terrible, but it was the truth.

The ceremony was short, and afterward, the sultan dismissed the new soldiers. At the last moment, he summoned me before him.

I approached the throne. The sultan was a short man with shorter legs that scurried along as he walked over to me.

“You are Sakhr’s son, aren’t you? Yes, I see the resemblance. A soldier, huh? Do you share your father’s brain?”

“I hope so.” I bowed.

“Hmm. We shall see. We shall see.” The sultan rubbed his chin and headed back toward his throne, muttering to himself. I only caught a few words here and there, but it seemed to me that he was speaking of the magical ring. The one my father never did find.

Was it still elusive all this time? I was shocked. At this point, why bother to even search for it?

“According to rumors,” the sultan said as he sat on this throne, “magic is dying. I do not know if that is true. I hope not.”

I stilled. Was the sultan talking to me? He seemed to be talking to himself. Regardless, this news greatly distressed me. Magic was too vital to the world for it to be extinguished. No. That cannot be. I refused to accept that. If the magical ring could help return magic to the world, then, yes, it must be found, and the sooner, the better.

The world would be made to rights one day. At least, I hoped it would. Considering that my father was no longer alive, I did not know if anyone else had taken up the search for the ring. Perhaps it would be found. Perhaps not. The future was far too uncertain for my tastes.

CHAPTER 7

N ahi, outside the courtyard of the Nahi Palace, the twentieth of December 1390

T  he sun slowly emerges from the depth of her slumber. Although a fair part of the world is covered in snow and ice at this time of year, the desert kingdoms remain hot. Even at night, we sweat. I wipe my forehead. My sweat is not merely from the heat but also nerves.

It does not take long for the marshal to organize us, and I push my way to the front of the lines.

“I will ask these dogs if they wish to beg,” he says. “If they refuse, kill them all.”

The marshal glowers at me and angrily adds, “We must do as the sultan demands of us.”

I nod. “I suppose so.”

“I am watching you, Jabir Nagi,” he spits out. “I do not like how you have been talking lately.”

Squaring my shoulders, I lift my chin. “Sir, I have come to a realization.”

“Oh? We do not have time—”

“My sultan must always come first,” I say in a rush. “I do not know how I could have forgotten that. I am not a coward. I am a fighter, and I will fight.”

Yes, I’ll fight. I’ll fight the sultan and you too if I have to. But I don’t dare clarify exactly who I mean to fight.

The marshal beams at me and claps a hand to my shoulder. “I knew you would see things our way eventually. Come, men. Let us see what these cowards will choose.”

Instead of climbing up and over the wall, the marshal has some of the soldiers cut down the sole tree in the area. Using the trunk as a ram, they batter down the courtyard gate, and we pour inside in relative order to find the courtyard empty.

The marshal mutters a curse. He immediately begins to scout ahead to try to determine where the people could have gone. I, along with several other soldiers, scout the land for any signs of them. Of course, I point out some prints to the west, and off we go.

For the entire day, we head westward, but we find no signs of them. The marshal is furious, thankfully not with me, but most likely that is because I have been scouting ahead and planting evidence of them for us to find.

“How could they have gotten so far ahead of us?” he grumbles. “We have been marching at double time all day.”

“They know the land,” I say, trying to sound outraged. “They are using that to their advantage. There is nothing we can do but follow them.”

“There’s nothing but desert this way,” he grumbles. “Sand, sand, and more blasted sand. Not even another village. The moon isn’t giving us any light. We have no choice but to remain here for the night.” The marshal rubs his chin. “We must send a message to the sultan. A few of you will go off to alert the sultan, while the rest of us will continue onward. We will most likely just find more villages. Those from Nahi must have joined up with another village. We will find them somewhere.”

“Allow me to go report to A—the sultan,” I volunteer.

The marshal appraises me with a critical eye and pursed lips. Then, he nods. “Very well. You and Mubin, go. Be as swift as you can. Take the camels and go.”

I grit my teeth and barely suppress the urge to gnash my teeth. I cannot abide having another messenger with me, but perhaps I can find a way to ensure matters still work in my favor.

Mubin is a quiet, stoic man with curly brown hair and a beard but no moustache. He says not a word as we mount our camels and off we go. Camels are not the fastest of creatures, but horses cannot survive the heat nor the sand. Their hooves roll too much, and their legs break far too easily.

Still, the camels can walk for days and nights at a time without rest, and three days later, we reach Aali’s palace. He does not make us wait and sees us immediately within his throne room. I swear he does this gesture to spite me more than any other reason.

“Mubin, Jabir, so good of you to come. What news do you bring me. Is all of Nahi finally under my control?”

I clear my throat. “No, unfortunately.”

So very fortunately.

“The sultan and his daughter remain in the wind. We came to Nahi to overtake it, but the inhabitants fled. We have been following them, but I do not know if our people have found them or not.”

Aali’s face grows more and more purple with every word I say. He slams a fist into his golden throne and leaps to his feet.

“This is unacceptable!” he shouts. A pouch tied to his belt sways, and I am certain the lamp rests within the cloth. If only I could secure it away from him! But there are fifteen guards within the throne room. If I dare to make a move against the sultan, I would be struck down. If I die in vain, it would help no one but Aali.

“Your orders have changed,” Aali suddenly says. His broad grin leaves me disgusted and fearful. “I am sorry to say this, but I must do it. You and the rest of the soldiers will not stop until you find Imperial Princess Basma. Bring her here to me. I will marry her, so I can be done with kingdom, and move onto the next one.”

A fierce feeling of protectiveness and anger threatens to overwhelm me. Without a word, I tightly bow to the sultan but do not lie prostrate before him. Spinning around on my toes, I flee the palace entirely and am back on my camel and trotting away.

It takes Mubin nearly a half hour to catch up to me. Days pass as we return to Nahi, and as soon as I see a purple-flowered cactus, I force my camel down to its knees.

Grumbling, I jump down. “It’s sick,” I grumble.”

“Find it some water,” Mubin suggests.

Ah, so he does talk.

“I will. You go on ahead,” I direct. “The sultan’s message must be received by our men as quickly as possible.

Mubin nods and rides away. Once he is out of sight, I follow the line of purple flowers. How the imperial princess changed the colors of them I don’t know. Perhaps she has some magic, although I suspect that is very doubtful. Not many here in Amesta or the surrounding kingdoms have much in the way of magic.

It only takes me another day to reach a village. The man who stood beside the imperial princess when I first met her greets me. He gives his name, Nader Nejem, and then guides me through the maze of mudhouses to a large tent. Inside, I find Imperial Princess Basma.

She is dressed as before. Her long black hair nearly reaches past her rump, tied into several ponytails. The imperial princess is talking to a guard about food, and I wait until the guard departs to clear my throat.

“Jabir,” she says, not surprised in the least. “Why are you here?”

“Aali plans on marrying you to gain control of Nahi,” I blurt out.

Her eyebrows lift. “I do not think so,” she says indifferently.

“If you do not, he will declare war on your entire kingdom. He may slaughter every last one of you.”

“I realize that, but I must fight. I will fight. What good is living if you are a slave? If your will is suppressed? Is not my will as important and powerful as your own?”

“Of course,” I murmur, “but you must be careful. How many number your army?”

“As many men, women, and children over the age of five.”

“That is impressive, but how much armor do you have?”

“Hardly any at all besides that which we stole from the few of your men that we have killed.”

I blink, surprised they had killed some. “When did that happen?” I ask, confused.

“Not long ago,” she admits. “Two days.

I nod. “Why are you not wearing any armor?”

“I won’t until after all of my men and women do. Children first, of course.”

“The children will die first.”

“And then that armor can be used again.”

I shake my head. “That is dangerous.”

“I know it.” She appraises me and smiles. “I cannot thank you enough for your warning. Now, you must go—”

“I would rather stay here with you.”

The imperial princess hesitates. “Your knowledge is a boon. I worry that we may need you to continue to try to spy, but I…”

“What do you wish?” I ask. I wince at my word choice.

“I do not want you to be in danger.”

I laugh. “I can handle myself,” I assure her.”

Without warning, she produces a knife from somewhere and holds it against my throat. “As can I and my men, but that does not stop me from wishing them to know peace once more. Since your people have invaded our kingdom—”

“They are not my people,” I say firmly.

“Be that as it may, they are Amestan as are you.”

“True enough. What do you plan on doing?” I ask, curious. I try not to stare at her as she fluidly, gracefully removes the dagger from my throat. How could I have not realized who she was from the start? Everything about her is so regal and majestic. Today, she does have the dots around her eyes, each perfectly symmetrical, and they enhance the tanned complexion of her skin. She is mesmerizing in every way.

But no. I cannot focus on her and her beauty or her courage or her desire for peace. I must do all I can to ensure that very peace becomes her reality once more.

“As we have been doing. Gathering our army. We will not back down. We will fight. I will not surrender, and neither will my father.”

“The sultan, how is he?”

“Doing well, thank you. He is trying to rally the men and women to arms as well. We hope to—”

“You do not need to tell me all of your plans.”

She blinks, surprised. “You are an ally. You are spying on your own people for us.”

“My own people have forgotten the path to light and peace.” I shake my head sadly. “Until they regain their footing, I renounce them as my people. I have no one.”

“No family? No parents, no siblings?”

I shake my head. “Do not worry about me. I am quite all right.”

“You do not have no one,” she says softly.

As much as her words warm me, I cannot bring myself to smile. “I feel as if I must warn you. Aali became the Sultan of Amesta because he has in his possession a magical lamp that contains a genie.” I hang my head. “I lost the lamp to him. I am sorry. All of this, all of the deaths, they are on me.”

Imperial Princess Basma lays a hand on my shoulder. With her other hand, she lifts my chin.

“You are responsible for your actions. Aali for his. You are not to blame.”

“If I had the lamp—”

“He would have stolen it, most likely. Stripped it from you by force. You might be dead this very moment, and then, where would my people be? Nahi may have already fallen. Perhaps, events have occurred as they have because the stars have willed it so.”

“Perhaps they willed for us to meet,” I say, unable to look away from her full lips. I make no move to kiss her, although I yearn to. “Perhaps the stars wish for us to be allies.”

“Then, their wish is granted,” she whispers. “We are allies. Be safe, Jabir. Be careful. I fear your work is more dangerous than my own.”

“I fear only for you.”

She opens her mouth, but already, I am bowing and climbing back onto my camel. If I am too far behind Mubin, he and the marshal will become suspicious. I cannot breach their trust. Not until the time is right for the Nahians to rise up and fight.

CHAPTER 8

A mesta, somewhere in the Mulish Desert, the fourth of August 1385

A s a soldier, I was not granted leave until well after I had turned seventeen. Although many soldiers would drink and eat and relax while on leave, I decided to do just that, as in leave. I upped and departed Amesta.

I was not deserting. Never would I ever dream of doing such a thing! Instead, I wished to finish what my father had started. I wished to finish what I had started.

Namely, I wanted to try to find the magical ring.

This time, I made certain that no thieves were trailing me. If any were to attack, I was more than capable of fending them off, even if five or more came at me. I had trained to become one of the strongest of Amestan soldiers.

Given that all of Amesta must have been searched by now, I departed my kingdom. Although I deliberated several kingdoms, I found myself heading toward Zorionstu, as I had on my first attempt to locate the ring.

Zoriontsu was a smaller desert kingdom, merely a village. If it had the ring in it, the people would have found it, so I did not even enter the kingdom proper. Instead, I searched along the outskirts.

Eventually, I came across a large rock with scorched marks. I touched the burned portion, and the rock grew too hot to touch. My hand would not be separated from the rock. A large crack formed, and the rock opened. Inside lay a small golden band with a large black stone.

Eagerly, I snatched the ring. Immediately, the rock sealed itself shut once more.

Feeling rather pleased with myself, I slid the ring onto my finger and held out my arm.

Nothing happened.

Should I think about fire? Heat? Flames? I did, but still, the ring did nothing.

Perhaps only sultans or those of royal blood could use it. Undeterred, I placed the magical ring in my coin pouch and swiftly returned to Amesta. My trek had taken up nearly an entire week. I was to report for duty in the morning. Although I was exhausted, I marched straight to the palace and inquired about a meeting with the sultan. After a short wait, I was allowed to enter the throne room.

The sultan eyed me. “Yes, Jabir? I hear you have urgent matters to speak with me.”

I bowed low, placing my forehead to the ground. “I do,” I said, my voice muffled from my positioning.

“Rise, Sakhr’s son.” The sultan appraised me and stroked his beard. “You may speak.”

But I said not a word. I merely retrieved the magical ring and held it out to him.

The sultan scampered off his throne and waddled over to me on his short legs. He snatched the ring and smiled broadly.

“At last! I knew this moment would come! You are as good a man as your father. He must be proud of you.”

I beamed, but the sultan had already turned his back to me as he placed the ring on his finger. Try as he might, the sultan could not conjure flames either. He hung his head, and the white hat he wore as sultan slid down on his forehead.

“The magic has all been used up,” he muttered.

My shoulders slumped. Perhaps I had found the ring too late.

“My apologies,” I murmured.

“You did nothing wrong. Thank you for your service.”

Upon hearing that obvious dismissal, I bowed and left. The world needed magic. I had heard rumors that even witches were not as powerful as they had been. Fairies were tricksters, so they couldn’t be trusted.

Which left genies. I had learned more about them than just what my father had told me as a young boy. Genies tended to keep to themselves and, unless trapped, would never do a favor for a nonmagical being.

Before me, I had only one option. My best choice was to find a lamp and force a genie to help rejuvenate the world’s magic.

CHAPTER 9

N ahi, somewhere in the Mulish Desert, the first of January 1391

A  fair amount of days have passed since I spoke with Imperial Princess Basma and we cemented our partnership. Truly, I regret that I did not spare a few seconds to kiss her, at least on her cheek. But she is an imperial princess and deserves more than I can offer her. Although I am in the army, I am in line to potentially become an advisor to the previous sultan. Even as an advisor, I still would not have been a high enough rank for one such as she.

I cannot allow myself to become distracted by her, but she consumes my every dream… and my nightmares. Either I dream of kissing her, or I despair over her death. My emotions are toying with me, and it is not easy for me to maintain my supposed support for the marshal and his plans.

On the first day of the new year, however, the status of the world changes. Up until now, we have resumed going to village to village and trying to secure them in Aali’s name. I hate that more men are being killed, but the villages have few and fewer people in them. They have only enough that the Amestans will not become suspicious.

We are farther out in the Mulish Desert than I have ever traversed. The desert seems to stretch endlessly before us, with nothing but sand in all directions. A few rolling hills. A cactus here or there. We have passed a few oases. It has been a day since we last found a village.

Suddenly, the thunder of hooves approaches. Despite the danger to the animals, horses pull along a chariot. In it, standing tall, is none other than Sultan Aali.

The others all around me all fall to their knees. I hesitate only a moment before following suit.

“You all have failed me,” Aali complains. His voice is grating, whiny. He does not sound like a sultan at all. More like a pompous, elitist child who is throwing a fit over not having his way.

The sultan dismounts from his chariot and tosses a cloth sack at the marshal’s feet.

“If you had any courage at all, you would have presented me with this a long time ago,” Aali says with a smirk.

The marshal opens the sack, peeks inside, and turns slightly green. The sultan nods, and the marshal reaches inside and holds up a head.

Although I have never seen the man’s face before, I recognize the sharp curve of his jaw, the slope of his nose, and the shape of his closed eyes.

The head belongs to the Sultan of Nahi.

My stomach churns with disgust, and my hands clench in anger. The sultan had to have gathered a fair amount of his army at that point. Had Aali slayed them all? Had they surrendered when their sultan fell?

“Nahi is mine now, thanks only to me,” Aali says, his voice carrying. “I have assumed control of the kingdom. Honestly, I should have you all killed and have a new army in your stead, but no, I allow you all one last chance to redeem yourselves.” Aali pierces me with a steely glower as he says this.

I stare him down as best as I can while still kneeling.

“Next, we shall conquer Etsipen. Do you think you can manage that in less than a week? I suppose that would be asking too much, given that I had to claim Nahi all by myself. A fortnight, then. If you fail, I will have no choice but to slaughter you for being disobedient and worthless soldiers. I will be able to replace you easily enough.”

Through a wish? Or will you use the army of Nahi? What of your plan to marry the imperial princess? Does Basma still live?

I hope she does. I pray she does. If I could, I would wish it to be so. Aali having the lamp is nothing but a nightmare, one that must end. Yet, I fear he will have power for a long, longtime.

“After Etsipen, Beldurra, Zoriontsu, and more. Maybe we’ll even go as far as Saxonia, Fantasia, and all of those kingdoms as well. One day, the entire world will be under my rule.”

The soldiers around me all cheer. I open my mouth and pretend to join in their revelry, but all I feel is fear. I must find Basma.

If she is even alive.

Aali spends the day plotting and planning with the marshal. I am not invited, but that does not matter. I slink away. It takes me two days to find a purple-flowered cactus. My relief at seeing the sight of its colors nearly makes me weep. It’s not until I find Basma the next day that I allow myself to feel some relief.

“I am so sorry,” I start.

She holds up her hand. “Everyone has been apologizing. I do not wish to hear it.”

“The army your father gathered?”

“Have all pledged loyalty to Aali? I do not blame them. They choose to live. To refuse would have meant death, perhaps even a painful one.” She exhales through her nose. “Still, I am not happy. I hoped to have my army and my father’s to surround Aali’s. We would have tightened our circle among you and killed you all—or at least as many as it took until you surrendered.”

“That doesn’t matter now. What are your plans?”

She hesitates and pushes her long hair back over her shoulder. “That depends on Aali’s next move. I suppose you know what it is?”

“I do.” I inhale and exhale deeply. “Short term, invade neighboring kingdoms. Long term, the entire world.”

Basma walks away from me. She and her people have taken to a village that houses a fair amount of stone. The nearest hill overlooks a fair amount of the desert, and I follow her lead, glancing out over the sand.

“I hoped to fight back for Nahi immediately,” she whispers. “I wanted to avenge my father and the sooner, the better. That will have to wait.”

She glances over her shoulder, and I follow her gaze to the man who spoke to me when we first met.

“Nader Nejem can assume control of the army,” she murmurs. “You and I will warn the other countries about Aali, his power, and his genie.”

“Together?” I ask. “And are you certain? Perhaps you should remain in control of your army. Your people need you more than ever.”

“They do, but I am not worried about only my people. Perhaps that is wrong of me, but I do not want others to suffer at the hands of Aali. He must be stopped at all costs, and my own army is not sufficient. I… Considering that half of the army is now Aali’s, we are at an even greater disadvantage now. Without the aid and backing of other kingdoms, we will all fall one by one to Aali. What’s worse is just thinking about what damage he can do if he can build his empire without using a second wish. What then might he use that second wish for?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.”

“I suppose we must split up then,” she murmurs.

“Yes.” My arms hang limply by my side. As much as I would love to draw her into my arms, I do not know how she feels about me. Besides, now is not the time or the place for feelings other than determination and justified anger.

Yet, I do also feel hope and worry and excitement and fear. So much more than I should. Being stoic might aid me, but I cannot help myself. I reach out toward the imperial princess.

But she turns her back to me. “You can head to Beldurra,” she says.

“But Etsipen is their first destination.”

“I know. That is why I will go there personally.”

“But, Basma, I should.”

“Why? Because you are a male?” Curiously, her tone is more indifferent than accusatory.

“Because I can run faster than you.”

Basma’s face breaks out into a wide smile. She whistles. Light footfalls barely echo on the sand as a huge tiger approaches. To my shock and amazement, the tiger runs up to Basma, who pets the top of his head.

“I have a swift mount,” she says, “far swifter than camels. I will be able to arrive in Etsipen faster than you can run there.”

“But of course.” I grin. “You having a tiger suits you.”

She laughs. “I am glad you think so.” The imperial princess winces and drops her gaze.

Immediately, I feel remorseful. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to make light—”

“You are fine. Come. Let us eat and then be off. We cannot waste time.”

“Certainly not.” I reach for her hand and, this time, claim it and am able to squeeze it.

While I do not relish the idea of splitting up, I am most pleased that I will not be in Aali’s army any longer. I have far more pressing matters to attend to. Being a spy is not in my future. No. I must gain allies and an army.

Genie or no genie, I will do my part to help bring Aali down.

CHAPTER 10

A mesta, the marketplace, the eighteenth of April 1386

I  would never forget the first time that I met Aali. While I was eighteen years of age, Aali was fifteen, although he looked smaller. He was thin but not as thin as most of the other street rats. The young orphans raced around the marketplace, snatching whatever food had fallen from vendors’ tables. A few of the vendors grumbled, but none pressed the issue.

The poverty in Amesta was a real and true problem. A much more immediate problem than that of magic. Even I knew this, but what could I do? I was a soldier. Although I was paid, I did not have enough to cover food for all of the poor.

My mother had died a few months ago, so I only had to care for myself. It was not fun being all alone, and I felt for the orphans. They were struggling, just trying to get by however they could. Traditionally speaking, swiping food from the ground did not constitute stealing as the vendor could have reclaimed the food easily by picking it up. Leaving it on the ground implied that he had released his ownership of the fruit or vegetable.

However, I noticed the thin boy who was almost a man. He was eyeing some edible flowers called miracle snowdrops, a treat that only the wealthiest of the wealthy could afford. I myself had never enjoyed the dessert.

As I watched, the boy licked his lips. His hunger was so evident that I felt for him. Before I consciously thought about it, I headed toward him and cleared my throat.

The boy did not look up at me.

“Are you hungry?” I asked. “I am. I was thinking about buying some unicorn’s wineberries. Would you like some?”

The boy blinked a few times but still did not glance away from the golden leaves.

Perhaps the boy felt as if he had nothing but his pride. I could understand that, but I still longed to help him.

The vendor who had unicorn’s wineberries was only a few tables down. I headed that way to buy us both some food, when the boy leaped forward. He snatched some of the golden leaves and ran off.

The vendor cried out, calling, “Thief! Thief!”

Guards startled at their posts, but I waved them off and tore after the boy myself. I found him just outside of the market. He scaled a wall and kept on running. He looked back and grinned at me before racing even faster.

I was taller than he, and my longer strides allowed me to eventually catch up. In my frustration, I seized his collar.

“Why did you steal?” I asked.

He yanked himself free. “Aali does what he wants,” he said sullenly. He shoved some of the leaves into his mouth.

I reached to grab the rest from him, but he spun and darted out of the way.

“Why steal?” I asked again.

“I couldn’t afford to buy them.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“The prices shouldn’t be so high,” he countered.

I glanced around and spied a small, ruined, half-crumpled building. Did he live there? I had better not ask, or else he would move elsewhere. Of that I was certain.

“Have you tried to find a job? How old are you?”

“Too young to be a soldier like you,” he said. “Not that I want to be one. Fight for Amesta. Fight for the sultan. No. Never.”

“Why not?” I asked, confused. “What other job do you want?”

“Why would I want a job when I can get what I need?”

“By stealing?” I scowled. “Why didn’t your parents teach you any manners or decency?”

As soon as I asked that, I winced. I should’ve known better than to say such a thing, but it was too late now.

“Who are you?” he asked. I opened my mouth, but he spoke over me. “I don’t care. You don’t care about me none either. Go on now. Live your life. Fight for the sultan. Be a soldier. Be a good man. That’s not me. I know what I am. I accept who I am. This is all I’ll ever be.”

I shook my head. “One day, you could do so much greatness. You only have to want to.”

“You may know how to use a sword and spear, but you don’t know nothing about the real world. You know nothing about how life truly is for us.”

The boy Aali darted away out of sight, and this time, I did not follow him. Was he right? Should I worry about Amesta first and not the fate of magic within the world? Yet, I felt as if I could make a difference with magic, if only I could locate a lamp. Maybe I could make a wish concerning magic and one to help the poor. Then, I would have one more wish.

All the way back to the marketplace, I imagined the different possible wishes I could ask for. I never did come up with a third one. Instead, I bought some unicorn’s wineberries and left a few for the boy in the ruined building I suspected was where he lived. Then, I returned home, my thoughts troubled.

CHAPTER 11

Beldurra, Beldurra Palace, the fifth of January 1391

T  he Empress of Beldurra is a beautiful woman with long silver hair and piercing gray eyes. Her skin is darker than oil, and she is majestically beautiful. She is also wise and unfoolish, much to my delight.

“I understand what you are saying,” she says in a voice that drips like honey.

“So you will join Nahi?” I ask eagerly.

“For now, we will remain here on the highest of alerts. When the time comes that you have need for us, send the word, and I will be there.”

“Thank you.” I bow and turn to leave.

The empress will not have that. She insists on a feast, and I eat my fill. Being on the road for so many long days and nights has left me both weary and hungry. Once my belly is full, I am so fatigued that I fall asleep at the table. When I wake, I bid my new ally adieu.

Before I departed Imperial Princess Basma’s side, we allocated up the countries so that we might cover more ground. Without further delay, I set out for Maite. There, the emperor seems to have too much compassion. He believes no one can be so cruel, and I fear he is one day going to be in for a rude awakening. If Aali comes to his courtyard, he will lay waste to the emperor’s sand castle and what then?

Mina is where I head to next. This country has more grass than sand, in parts at least, and it is so very strange to see the green blades blowing in the hot breeze.

It is easy enough to secure a visit with the sultan’s wife. The sultan himself is taking a bath. Apparently, he has a terrible skin condition that can make him rather disagreeable. Long, soaking baths in honey can help to alleviate some of his discomfort.

The sultan’s wife, Yasmine El-Amin, bids me to tell my tale, and I do.

“So, you see,” I say to close out my recounting of the events, “with his genie, Aali can become the greatest danger the world has ever known.”

The sultan’s wife nods several times. She folds her hands and places them beneath her chin. “That all does sound terrible, but there is hope. Perhaps. Maybe.” She purses her lips and shakes her head.

I clasp my hands together behind my back and try to conceal my desperation. “With your army and that of other nearby kingdoms, the combined might will be enough to face Aali and his soldiers on the battlefield.”

The sultan’s wife shakes her head, yet she is smiling. I am so confused.

“You will not have access to our army,” she says.

Saddened and angry, I grit my teeth so I do not say anything rash for fear of upsetting her.

“All Aali will do if he faces a large army is use his second wish to turn the army against itself. Or to join his cause. Or for the men and women to drop down dead. No. That is not the way.”

There is a possible inkling of truth to her words. I have considered this. How could I not when I am a military man? But, still, I am a man of action. I must do something. As a soldier, certainly my first move will be to fight.

“How then is there hope?” I ask desperately.

“Because there is not only one lamp that houses a genie. There may be another lamp within my kingdom. Rumors and stories have abound for centuries about a cursed lamp with a vicious genie inside. Vicious could mean powerful, and we need all the power we can muster if we are to defeat Aali.”

I gulp. We do need help, and a genie on our side would be a tremendous boon. But a curse? That does not sound nearly as wonderful and worthwhile.

“Where might I find this lamp?” I ask, endeavoring to maintain a calm voice.

“In the mountain of sand,” she says. “Where that is, I do not know, but the stories suggests a place to the north and to the west.”

I nod and bow. “Thank you for listening to me. I hope that your husband feels better and soon.”

The sultan’s wife nods to me. She does not move to stand from her seated position on her small throne as I depart.

A mountain of sand. To the north and to the west. For long, long days, I do all I can to find this tower. Alas, there is no mountain made of sand. Many hills, yes, so many dunes, but no mountains to speak of.

Eventually, a sandstorm begins to brew. I look around wildly. There are no nearby trees or buildings. Nothing but me, with no shelter to be found.

Ahead is a valley dipped between two large hills, and I head toward the hills. The sand beats as me as I try to minimize my body, and I keep my eyes and mouth shut.

Just then, the sand beneath my feet shifts and trembles. This is not from the sandstorm. Oh, no. This is from an earthquake.

A long, thin fissure cracks through the sand near my feet. Instead of me dropping down into that hole, a mountain rushes upward from beneath the earth’s opening. The mountain of sand rises and rises and rises until the pinnacle stretches toward the sky and the clouds.

And in that mountain of sand is a door fashioned from the mouth of a minotaur.

Trying my best to remain undaunted, I stroll over to the door.

The minotaur’s sandy eyes narrow on me. “Who dares to interrupt my slumber?” the creature asks in a deep, booming voice that sends shockwaves throughout my body.

“Oh,” I say, blinking furiously. “Why, that would be me, of course.”

I give the sand minotaur one of my best smiles. How can a creature formed out of sand talk? How can I convince the minotaur to open its mouth or the cave of the mountain of sand, so that I can enter and explore?

“And you are?” the minotaur demands.

“Jabir Nagi.”

“What is it you seek most?” the sandy minotaurs asks.

Absurdly, the answer on the tip of my tongue is Basma, but I suspect that answer would not be appreciated. Instead, I go with, “Peace for all of the kingdoms.”

“A noble choice but not one so easily given.”

“Please. If I can only have peace, I will be able to save so many lives. It will be worthwhile and not just for myself.”

The minotaur nods. Sand tumbles and shifts downward, and grit falls from his neck.

“Go on. Enter, but be wary. Some will try to haunt you, and sometimes, you hurt others whether intentionally or not. If you go down this course, there is no turning back.”

I nod and square my shoulders. “No turning back,” I repeat.

The minotaur’s head seems to grow even larger in the sand mountain. Then, he rolls out his tongue to form a set of stairs for me to climb into its mouth.

“You won’t eat me?” I ask.

The minotaur says nothing.

“All right then,” I mutter to myself. “It’s just me. All up to me. I can do this.”

I hope.

CHAPTER 12

A mesta, the ruined house, the eighteenth of May 1386

F or the month after I first met Aali, I continued to reach out to him. I would leave him fruits and vegetables, even some cheese and rolls. At times, the food would be eaten. Other times, it seemed animals had gotten to them instead.

The boy did his best to avoid me, and I grew more and more frustrated. Until I was on leave again, I could not try to locate a lamp. I did listen for any stories about genies that might point me in the direction of where to go to locate a lamp. While I waited to be granted leave, I still wished to make a difference. That was why I tried to help Aali so much.

Exactly one month after our first encounter, I was shocked to see Aali at the ruined house as if waiting for me.

I smiled and held out the roll I had brought for him. “Are you hungry?”

“Does it make your twisted heart happy to try to take pity on me? Do you not realize how degrading you are being to me?” Aali demanded angrily. His eyes flashed with hatred.

Surprised and dismayed, I took a step back. His hatred saddened me. All this time, I had been trying to help him. That he loathed me for it depressed me.

“That is not my intent,” I protested. I lowered my arm to my side, still holding the roll he had rejected.

“Intentions mean nothing.” Aali lifted his nose into the air. “If you only intend to kill the enemy on the battlefield and you fail, you will be the one to die.” He grinned sarcastically. “I hope that happens.”

“Why do you hate me?” I asked, although I had a sinking feeling I knew why.

“I don’t just hate you,” he said, his frustration growing. “I hate you and everything you stand for.”

“Why? Was your father a soldier? Did he die in battle?”

Aali barked a bitter laugh. “As if I will tell you about my life.” He shook his head.

To my surprise, he sat down and removed some unicorn’s wineberries from his shirt. He ate as if famished.

Unicorn’s wineberries were my favorite fruit, and the food I brought for Aali more than any other. Once he consumed his fourth berry, I began to fill a little uneasy. His shirt was bulky, yes, but his clothes were always baggy. I had thought perhaps the shirt had been his father’s, but maybe he had stolen the shirt as well as the unicorn’s wineberries. How many more did he have stashed in his shirt? These berries were not the size of cherries or even peaches. Instead, they grew to be the size of two man’s fists put together.

When he ate a sixth, grinning widely, I shook my head and left. He wanted nothing to do with me, and maybe I should have given up on him. Maybe he was far too angry to be helped. I could not force him to change. That choice was his and his alone.

But the choice he had made just yesterday infuriated me so furiously that I nearly wanted to take my spear with me the next time I would visit him. Once I reached the marketplace, I spied the vendor who typically sold unicorn’s wineberries. He had not a one on the table to sell.

As I approached, the vendor’s smile fell.

“I am afraid I have no more,” he said sadly.

“Sold out of them all?”

The vendor shook his head. He was an older man with gray hairs mixed in with his brown strands. “My small field has been burned to the ground. All of the unicorn’s wineberries are gone.”

Except for the ones Aali had stolen first.

Fury laced through me. I murmured my condolences through gritted teeth and marched myself back to Aali’s ruined house.

“You did that,” I demanded of the street rat who was still grinning. He was leaning against one of the muddied stones that comprised the ruin, patting his full belly. He could not look more pleased.

“What did I do?” Aali asked, feigning innocence.

“You ruined the field of unicorn’s wineberries. Do not deny it.”

Aali spread out his hands innocently. “I don’t know what ya talking about.”

“You do know.” I jabbed my finger toward him.

“Hurts, don’t it? To have what you want taken away from you.” Aali nodded. “Only fair for you to feel that sting too.”

“Not just me,” I protested. “Others eat that fruit. You’re punishing far more than just me.”

“Maybe you all deserve to be punished,” Aali said slowly as he climbed to his feet. “You think you are all high and mighty because you’re a soldier, but you aren’t. You are just a man like I am. You can’t make a difference.”

“I can.”

“I already have.” Aali rubbed his stomach again. “So delicious.”

I gnashed my teeth. “You’re frustrated. You’re upset. I understand that. I do. I—”

“You don’t!” he shouted.

“You’re all alone in the world, aren’t you? So am I. My parents are both dead. I—”

“Let me cry for you,” he said with a sneer. “No. Sorry. Don’t care. You have friends. You have a job. You have a house. You—”

“You could have friends. I could be your friend.”

“Why? Why should we be friends when you have so much and I have so little?”

“You can have more if you would only try. You could be a soldier—”

“Never!”

“Or a farmer. You could grow your own unicorn’s wineberries. You could be a tailor or a cobbler. You could do any number of things. Why won’t you? Why do you insist on being a street rat?”

“Maybe that’s the only life I’ve ever known.”

“Maybe you should have loftier goals rather than being complacent,” I spit out.

There was something about Aali that infuriated me. I understood that his life was tragic, depressing, and frustrating. Why, though, wasn’t he willing to try to change his station? Why couldn’t he rise up and better himself?

“Maybe you should be careful what you wish for, Jabir,” he said with a dark glint in his eyes. “It just might happen, and then where will you be?”

I swallowed hard. I hadn’t realized Aali knew my name, and suddenly, I wished he had remained ignorant on that fact. The sheer contempt he had infused into my name haunted me the entire trek I marched back to my abode.

Aali was one bitter man, and I feared what he might be capable of if given the chance and if struck by motivation to act on his hatred. Because today was the first time I noticed the scorch marks on the wall behind him. Had that been his family home? Had he been the one to dismantle it and leave it ruined?

Just how destructive could he be? I most certainly wished to never find out.

CHAPTER 13

M ina, the Minotaur Sand Cave, the fifth of January 1391

Excited but cautious, I climb the minotaur’s tongue stairs and enter the sand creature’s mouth. Inside, all I see is darkness, but as I slide down his throat, lights appear. Confused, as I can see no flames or other source of the illumination, I land, roll, and climb to my feet. There, all around me, is enough gold and silver and jewels that I could be set for life.

But, no. I am not here for treasure. I only seek the lamp.

The possibly cursed lamp.

What if the genie does not grant wishes? Or grants the opposite of that which was wished? What if the genie grants the wish but kills the one who made that wish?

Well, then, I would die. So be it. If my death means that Aali’s nightmarish reign is over, I will die and be glad for it.

Somehow, there is a large room behind the first with all the treasure. The walls appear to be wooden. As I walk along the center of the path to the other door, swooshes sound. Arrows. The barbed shafts are exiting from small slits in the wooden walls, and all are aimed right for me.

I duck, roll, and leap to my feet, immediately racing away. One arrow shoots out and pierces my shirt sleeve. Eventually, though, I do make it into the next room and without any injury beside scraped knees.

“For the love of sand,” I mutter to myself. “Blackness has descended on me.”

The next room is likewise wooden and dark. From the ceiling, a huge blade swings back and forth, the arched weapon inching lower and lower with every possible second. What is worse is that a person lies tied to the center beam of the floor. That beam is the only means to cross to the door on the opposite side of the room.

Although it means I risk not being able to reach the other side before this saw slices me into two, I cannot allow this person to lie there and be killed.

Swiftly, I race to his side. My heart is trembling like a stampede of frightened wildebeests. My hands shake slightly, and my fingers refuse to cooperate at first, but I do eventually free him. As soon as I do, the man’s body shakes, and he dies before my eyes. In fact, his entire body just disappears. So strange, perplexing, wonderful, and yet worrisome.

The saw is low enough now that I can feel the gust of wind each time it slices back and forth. Swiftly, I continue onward and promptly stop before I do more than enter the next room.

Lava covers the ground, and only a few rocks are visible for me to even attempt to cross.

“Still think this is worthwhile, Jabir?” I mutter to myself.

But then, in the far corner of the room, I finally spy something that has a gold finish. The lights sparkle and shimmer off the object. The lamp!

With renewed energy, I burst forward and leap onto the first stone and the next and next. Onward I go. A few times, the lava will bubble and burst, and I manage to duck around and out of the way.

Eventually, I land onto the circular piece of solid land where the lamp rests on a sand pedestal.

Without hesitating, I reach out to snatch the lamp when the pedestal collapses. The lamp begins to fall, and I have to dive and nearly fall off the ledge in order to retrieve it.

“No, no, no, no, no.” I snatch the lamp to my chest and cradle it there as if an innocent babe.

Clearly that slight rubbing motion is enough because the lamp dances in my hand, and black and dark green smoke billows out. A man is visible in the smoke, and he glowers at me as if he hates me.

“Who are you?” I ask.

“You wouldn’t know who I am,” the genie states. He nearly spits on me.

It seems to me he is as angry and hateful as Aali is. Perhaps it is because of the genie himself that the lamp is rumored to be cursed. Perhaps I would be better served to trick Aali into having this lamp instead of the one he presently has. Perhaps… Oh, I do not know what might be best!

“I still wish to know who you are,” I say. My heart pounds in my chest so furiously that I am breathless.

“Ah, is that your first wish?” The genie grins evilly.

I shudder. “You know that is not the case,” I say hotly, furious at my slip of the tongue. “Very well. Do not tell me your name. That does not matter. I do mean to use my first wish.”

The genie crosses his arms. That his lower half is smoke gives him a disembodied appearance that alarms me.

“I wish for Aali to stop attacking the kingdoms,” I state firmly, holding up the lamp.

The genie does nothing. He doesn’t nod or lift his arms. Nothing at all.

“Hmm…” I grimace. Have I done something wrong?

The genie grins. “Perhaps I will. Perhaps I won’t.”

I gape at him, shocked and horrified. I have not heard of a genie powerful enough to be capable of refusing to grant a wish. How can this be possible? The very nature of genies that have been trapped forces them to bestow three wishes upon a person. Any three wishes, as far as some stories go, although rumors do suggest that matters of love and death cannot be affected.

Perhaps therein lies my issue. By preventing the fighting, that will affect the lives and deaths of many villagers. Preventing death, though. Is that not allowed? I thought only that people could not be brought back from the dead.

As for love, how can it truly be love if magic is used to force it upon one of the parties? It is only natural that magic cannot affect love, only lust. Unbidden, the image of Imperial Princess Basma springs to mind. No. I do not know her well enough. I cannot possibly love her. Yet, perhaps one day, if we both survive, maybe…

“A noble enough wish,” the genie says sarcastically. “And one that I can fulfill.”

My joy is short-lived as I notice the glint in his eyes.

“What is it you want first?” I ask, endeavoring not to despair.

“I will only grant your wish if you will help me track down the Saab descendants.”

I frown, confused and dismayed. “I do not know of any Saabs,” I say.

Not that I would hand any over because I fear what the genie has planned for them.

“Why do you need them?”

“The entire Saab line must be wiped out,” the genie says firmly, gleefully, “entirely and completely. Do not worry. I will make them extinct. You will not have to kill anyone. Just help me locate them. Another helped me kill some over the years, but I know the line lives yet. They may have changed their name, but that matters not. They will die, and you will help. Otherwise, this Aali will continue to attack kingdom after kingdom. I have been in this lamp for nearly four hundred years. Despite being trapped, I can glean some truths about the world. This Aali will not stop. He will continue to create havoc and chaos throughout the entire world. You are right to wish to stop him. I can help, but only if you help me in return. What do you say?”

CHAPTER 14

A mesta, Amesta Palace, the twenty-fifth of May 1386

A  week after I learned Aali had ruined the unicorn’s wineberries field, I decided I would for now focus only on my job. There, I was excelling. With Aali, I was failing and perhaps even making matters worse rather than better.

Besides, the sultan had need of me, and I was too busy to even leave the palace. I had been elevated to the position of a guard. Many royals were visiting the sultan. His wife had died several years ago. Now that the proper length of time for mourning had passed, other sultans from the desert kingdoms were bringing forth their imperial princesses. The sultan was looking for a new bride.

I knew that Aali hated me because he viewed me as above him. He most certainly hated the sultan and all of the nobles. I wondered if other street rats felt as he did. Would they all think the sultan arrogant and full of himself for having grand feasts and dances with all of the visiting royals?

Maybe it was a bit much, but it was not my place to judge. Most of the visiting leaders brought their own guards with them, so honestly, there was not a lot of work for me. Most of the time, I merely stood off to the side, watching the sultan of this land or that land introduce his sister or daughter to the Sultan of Amesta. They would talk, eat, perhaps dance if the sultan wished to. He did not often dance, and I almost had the feeling that he did not wish to marry again after all. Perhaps even though the proper length of time had passed, the sultan yet remained in mourning.

Honestly, it did bother me that some of the sultans were bringing along daughters who were far too young for the sultan. The Sultan of Amesta had to be almost forty, yet some of the potential brides were teenagers. One, Basma, the Imperial Princess of Nahi, was introduced as fifteen years of age.

She was beautiful, that Imperial Princess. It was quite clear to me that she did not wish to be here. Two other kingdoms had arrived when hers had, and she managed to slip away.

Of course, I did not hesitate to follow her. Imperial Princess Basma left the palace and continued walking.

“Where are you going?” I called after her.

She hesitated and slowly turned to face me. “For a walk.”

I nodded. “Would you like an escort?”

“Honestly, no.” She grinned. “I do not mean to offend you, but I have been stuck in a caravan for days now. I wish to be alone.”

“I am sad to say that I cannot allow you complete isolation, but I will follow you at a distance. Will that suffice?”

The imperial princess’s smile stretched all the wider. “You would do that?”

“I will. It is all I can do for you, considering I really cannot allow you to go by yourself.”

She nodded. Even that small gesture was fluid and graceful. Her flowing dress fluttered in the soft, warm breeze. Her midriff was bare as was the latest fashion.

As much as I wished for her to ask me to direct her where to go, she did not. She walked by herself, sticking away from the adobes and the market. She truly did wish to be alone. That I could understand. The world at times seems so crowded and chaotic. Isolation helped to make the world smaller, more manageable. Although I did long to see much and more of the world, at times, being home was all I longed for. Perhaps the imperial princess wished to return home herself.

By the time returned to the palace an hour or so later, a ball had started. The sultan was not dancing, but several other couples were. When the imperial princess slid into place beside her father, I resumed my perch along the wall. I was to watch over the proceedings, but all I could do was watch Imperial Princess Basma. She was so very beautiful, and she seemed to have a smile for every person who looked her way. Although a few imperial princes asked her to dance, she declined every offer.

It was only after the ball ended that I realized that our walk meant the imperial princess had not had the chance to eat supper. The chef was not the most pleasant of persons, but I convinced him to create a plate for me with the finest slice of meat, an assortment of cheeses, some fresh bread and fruit too.

Swiftly, I brought the tray up to the imperial princess’s room. I laid it on the ground and knocked at her door. Then, I scampered away. Maybe it was foolish of me, but I did not wish for her to see me.

From around the corner, I watched as she opened her door. She glanced all around and then down at the tray. Smiling for no one in particular, she picked up the tray and brought it inside her room. She closed the door behind her.

Unable to stop smiling myself, I kept patrol along the guest rooms of the visiting royals all night long. Just before dawn, another soldier relieved me of my duties. That night, when I returned to the palace, I was disappointed to realize that those from the Kingdom of Nahi had already departed. I would have wished to see the imperial princess one last time. Alas, that was not to be, and I was saddened to realize I might never talk to her again.

CHAPTER 15

M ina, the Minotaur Sand Cave, the fifth of January 1391

T  he genie’s offer rolls over in my mind. Truly, I want no part in this. How can I agree to one or more deaths just so that Aali may be stopped? How can one life mean more than another?

The Saabs… I truly have never heard the name before. I wouldn’t know where to even begin to try to hunt them down. It seems logical to me that a Saab ancestor may have been the one to imprison this genie in his lamp. But what if there are no Saabs left? What if the line has already ended? Can I not agree to help the genie after all?

But my conscience prickles at me. It is very possible that, when the genie tried to enact his revenge enough times, the Saabs realized they were cursed. That they were being hunted. They may have changed their surname to try to remain alive and to avoid any more tragedy.

I am a man of action, but I am also a man of my word. If I agree to help this genie, then I will be bound and determine to do my best to assist him. I may not be the one to kill the descendants, but I will play a role in their deaths. How can I dare even consider this?

How much is one life worth? An adult life? A man’s life? A woman’s? A child’s?

What if the descendant is an orphan? A street urchin as Aali had been? What if one child needs to die so that thousands more might live? Because Aali wishes to control the entire world. He will not rest. He is a most ambitious man for having come from so little. Already, he has risen so much. How lofty can his goals be? Certainly, he will do his best to ensure that he can have more and more as time goes on. Even if he is to gain control of every last kingdom in the world, he will still wish for more. He will never stop. Of that I am certain.

Unless he is stopped. I do not know if I can stop him without the aid of a genie, considering Aali has a genie himself.

What if Saab’s descendants number far more than one? Five? Fifteen? Five hundred? Can I dare to accept that they must die so that others may live?

What choice do I have? Is there another option?

As desperate as I am to find another solution, I do not think there is another to be found. I could die. Basma could. Everyone from Amesta. I do not for one second believe Aali cares about his own home country. No. The world will suffer by his hand.

Briefly, I even entertain the notion of amending my wish so that Aali can die. Surely, that would stop the fighting, but, no. It is terrible enough that I am considering this. How tragedy, what sorrow, what grief I will feel if I agree!

The genie stares me down, arms crossed. He has risen in his smoky cloud so that he looks down upon me as if I am inferior. Perhaps I am. I have no magic. I am merely a soldier. No. I am not even that any longer since I have deserted.

I am a failure. Everything I have planned for us has fallen. I endeavored to help Aali and failed. I sought to save other kingdoms, yet more people have been killed. I long for peace, yet all I find is more anger, more hatred, more despair. My depression has me believing that I have no other choice.

Basma. What would she do if she were here instead of me? Would she be willing to sacrifice lives so that thousands can be saved?

I do believe she would. She has been raised as the daughter of a sultan. The world of politics has been hers since birth. At times, one must make terrible decisions, and the benefits of the many outweighs the benefits of a few. That is not to say that any one life is more important than another. Oh, no, certainly that is not the case. However, the sheer number of lives that will be saved has made the decision for me.

The genie’s grin broadens as if he can read my mind. “You agree?” he asks, his voice booming.

I lower my head and nod.

The genie’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “You must voice your agreement aloud,” he declares.

“I agree,” I whisper, the words hardly audible even to my own ears.

But the genie appears to have heard them. He rises up high, his form growing in size. His arm reaches skyward although we remain in the cave. The ceiling seems to rise too, farther and farther away until it seems as if we are deep within the mountain in this very room.

Lightning crackles and bursts forth form the genie’s hands. The bolts plow through the cave. The lightning is dangerous and vicious. Suddenly, the lightning disappears mid-streak.

“It is done,” the genie declares. “Aali has stopped fighting the kingdoms. Now, you will do your part. You will bring me any and all of the Saab descendants, so that I may kill every last one of them.”

CHAPTER 16

A mesta, Amesta Palace, the first of June 1386

A  week had passed since I met the Imperial Princess of Nahi. I could not get her or Aali out of my head for two distinctly different reasons.

Honestly, I had not bothered with women or ladies before. I was too busy. Before, my training preoccupied me. Then, my duties toward the sultan as well as my desire to find magic.

But for whatever reason, the Imperial Princess of Nahi had captivated me from the very beginning. I could not begin to explain why. It baffled me. Quite frankly, I had never been more perplexed. Truly, I did not know much about her. Not at all. Yet, I felt a sort of kinship with her. I understood her desire for isolation, and I doubted many other imperial princesses or princes would. Most seemed to enjoy the attention their positions granted them. Imperial Princess Basma only seemed to ever wish to be herself. That I could appreciate.

As for Aali, well, he had never been far from my mind ever since I'd first met him. The street rat worried me. He did not seem to be willing to harm himself, which made me thankful. Still, I could not help but worry that he might prove to be a danger toward others. I could not prove that he had dismantled his parents’ house. I also could not prove that he had ruined the field of unicorn’s wineberries, although I was certain that was the case.

Imperial Princess Basma seemed to be a wonderful and caring lady, which made Aali seem to be that much more destructive and treacherous. Was it possible for me to help him? Should I leave him be? It had been quite some time since I last saw or spoke to the street rat. I could not be certain what tricks if any he were up to.

Eventually, the visits from the royals of other desert kingdoms slowed and then halted. Although the sultan did not pick a new bride for himself, he seemed happy enough to remain single for now.

Even better, the kingdom was at peace. Everything seemed to be going well. Maybe we didn’t need magic after all. Maybe everything would be all right.

Yet, I could not stop waking up covered in sweat. Yes, the temperature was hot, hotter than I would have preferred, but that was not why I woke drenched. Deep down, I was worried for the future, but why? What did I fear so greatly?

Yes, I wished to see the imperial princess again, as ridiculous as that was. However, I did not think she was the reason for my fears. Instead, I was more frightened about Aali. That I had not seen or heard from him in some time did not alleviate my worries. If anything, I was all the more worried because of it. Had he been torching more fields? He had ruined other buildings? Was he continuing to steal?

How much trouble could one street rat cause?

As I would soon come to learn, a great deal of trouble. Far too big of a deal.

CHAPTER 17

M ina, the Minotaur Sand Cave, the fifth of January 1391

T  he genie has returned into his lamp. Although I long to leave the lamp behind in the cave so as to not have to fulfill my end of the bargain, the lamp drags along on the rock behind me. When I leap from one rock to another to cross the lava unscathed, the lamp follows my path. Once I reach the mouth of the minotaur sand cave, I have no choice but to pick up the lamp.

Grumbling to myself, hating myself for giving in, afraid the genie has tricked me, I glance all around. Night has fallen, but that does not stop me from locating a camel and riding forth back to the palace of the nearest village.

The Minan guards do not wish to allow me entry at first. Eventually, the sultan’s wife herself approaches, and the guards open the gates.

Although I am glad to see her, she does not allow me inside either. Instead, she marches out to me.

“Do you have the lamp?” she asks urgently.

“I do.” I move to show it to her.

She holds up her hand to stop me. “Please. Do not set forth deeper into my kingdom with that accursed item.”

I glower at her. “You were the one who suggested I locate the item in the first place.”

“Indeed, I did, but to use it…”

Shocked, I drop my jaw. Should I have merely used the lamp as a tool? As a way to try to manipulate and control Aali? No, that is not my way, has never been my way. Aali may be repulsive and vicious in his quest for power, but I will not stoop that low.

And yet, haven’t I, by agreeing to the genie’s terrible plan?

I hang my head. “I wished only for the fighting to stop.”

“Perhaps it will.” The sultan’s wife purses her lips. “Or perhaps the fighting will take on a different form.”

Again, she thinks far differently than I, and again, I think she may have the right of it. Aali is not a typical foe. He will endeavor to continue to grow his empire, even if fighting is no longer a recourse for him.

She does offer to provide me with some supplies and food, which I readily accept. I am famished and thirsty, and I have to force myself to ration the meat and water. Although it is night, I press onward. The nights are generally a little cooler than during the day, and the twinkling lights of the stars shine down on me.

I wish the stars would hide beneath the clouds as the moon does. I feel so terribly guilty that I do not wish to be witnessed. Already, I can feel the need within me to ask about the Saabs. I do not wish to fulfill this request, but I am bound to perhaps magically. How else can I feel this burning desire to ask and seek them out?

As such, I endeavor to avoid going to any village until I come across a new kingdom nearly a fortnight later. Tristura is not a kingdom that either Basma or I planned to seek out. I have to traverse a nearly dry riverbed in order to reach it. We hoped Aali would not venture there because the entire kingdom is surrounded by a near moat that would make an approaching army vulnerable to arrow attacks as they approach and climb the riverbeds.

But as I near the walls of the kingdom, I spy banners that are all too familiar. Before I left Amesta, once Aali became sultan, he changed the kingdom’s colors to that of purple. A red and gold carpet had been in the center of the design. Now, I see that same banner hanging here in Tristura.

How can that possibly be?

The drawbridge has already been lowered, and I rush inside. I do not have to ask a single person what has happened. Even the peasants are spreading the news.

It seems Aali has just yesterday has married the princess of Tristura.

As the sultan’s wife of Mina suspected, Aali maybe have stopped fighting, but that has not stopped him from growing his empire.

I stop a small boy, a street rat. His face is covered in dirt, and his torn shirt reveals his ribs.

“Do you know of a Saab?” I ask before I can stop myself.

The boy shakes his head, and I grit my teeth. He turns to leave.

“Wait. Please. Tell me of Aali. What do you know of him?”

The boy shrugs.

Grimacing, I remove a piece of fruit from my bag and toss it to him. The boy eagerly devours it.

“Now. Aali. What can you tell me about him?”

“He’s married the princess.”

“I already know this,” I tell him dryly.

“Fifth marriage in…” The boy shrugs. “Lots of marriages recently. Marrying all of the princesses.”

I blink, dumbfounded and shocked. All of the princesses?

Just then, a horn sounds. The peasants do not bother to gather round the herald, but they do listen, as do I.

“Hear thee, hear thee. By order of the new sultan-to-be, all are to look for a Princess Basma. The sultan of seven kingdoms wishes to marry her next so that Nahi can be his eighth kingdom. Whoever finds her will be rewarded. If you can bring her to the sultan, even better. Go forth and good luck. Great riches could be yours.”

Basma. Married to that filth Aali. No. Never! I will never allow that to happen!

CHAPTER 18

A mesta, the marketplace, the seventeenth of July 1388

A  few years ago, when I was twenty, there was a shock of violence in Amesta. It was a day I would never forget with an experience I would never have wished to ever relive.

On that fateful day in the staunch heat of July, three other army men and I were patrolling the marketplace. The peace that Amesta had known for years had continued… but only up until today.

A street rat was slinking along the narrow passageways of the marketplace. He kept circling around the same aisles. This particular street rat looked to be about fourteen. For a street rat, he had some muscle and meat on his bones. I could only tell him for what he was from the gauntness of his face, the dirty and torn clothes, and the dejected slump of his shoulders. All street rats looked like they could be brothers and sisters because of their stance alone.

Curious and wary, I watched this street rat critically. Eventually, he approached a vendor who was selling jewelry fine enough for a sultana to wear. His hand snatched out, and he grabbed a few necklaces. One of the strands snapped, and beads went flying.

The vendor had been helping another customer and was standing directly next to the street rat. That thief had some courage to him. Although he immediately turned to flee, the vendor wiped out a knife and slashed at the thief.

Whether or not the vendor cut skin I wasn’t certain because the street rat wore black. A bloodstain would not be visible. I was calling out for the thief to halt. The vendor was yelling and chasing. So were two other soldiers.

Despite my specifically watching the street rat, the other soldiers were closer to him, mostly because the street rat had run away from me. I tore after him, but the other soldiers engaged the thief first.

The street rat had a knife of his own. He had no training, though, clearly, as his swings were wild, wide arcs. Sometimes, an untrained opponent can be more challenging than a trained one because a fighter can become too conditioned to a certain style of battle. The first soldier didn’t seem to recognize this, but the second quickly adjusted. He shoved a hand beneath the thief’s chin, yanked the dagger out of the thief’s hand, and plunged the dagger into the thief’s stomach.

People all around us screamed, rushing away from the scene. Blood squirted from the wound, and the street rat only remained upright because the soldier was holding him.

By now, the last soldier and myself had joined them. My stomach twisted with despair and sorrow. Even anger. But before I could question the soldier for killing the street rat, I noticed a small figure out of the corner of my eye. It was none other than Aali.

For the love of sand, that was not good. Not good at all. Aali already hated us. For years, I had not spent much time concerning myself with the matter that was one Aali Zaman. Instead, I had hoped that my letting him be would help him, since I seemed to only ever anger him or fuel his hatred.

Now, I clearly saw that was not the case. Aali’s glower had never been more spiteful.

While the other soldiers handled the bloody mess, I rushed over to Aali.

The street rat held up his hand. “Do not say a single word to me,” he said hostilely.

“Are you threatening me?” I asked. “Because that is a punishable offense, to threaten a member of the sultan’s army.”

Aali rolled his eyes. “You and your people think that you can do no wrong. You think that you can make no mistake, that your lives are the only ones that matter.”

“That isn’t true,” I protested.

“No? Then, how come you have stopped giving me food?” he demanded.

“How come you never once shared the food I gave you with your people?” I countered and winced. I did not like that he was firmly establishing lines between those he considered enemies and those he considered more on his level. Because I doubted he saw the other peasants or street rats as his equal.

“How gave you the right to judge me?” he asked. “How about you worry about yourself, okay? And watch your back.”

“Another threat,” I muttered, but Aali was already slinking away.

Letting him go, I returned to the soldiers. The people had mostly been calmed down. The last soldier to come over was leaving, saying that he was going to see if he could learn if the man had any still-living relatives.

The soldier who hadn’t been able to adjust to the thief’s movements held the dead man in his arms.

I whirled on the killer. “Why did you do that?” I demanded. “In front of all of these people?”

“I didn’t intend to kill him,” the soldier said. His name was Raheem Ahmad. We had joined the army the same year. I had always thought of him as a good and loyal soldier, but how could he be, when he had killed one of the sultan’s subjects? A thief should never be killed. Instead, they were to have a hand chopped off. If they stole again, the other hand would be cut. A third time and, well, the thief’s head came off. Clearly, they weren’t remorseful if they would attempt to thieve that many times.

“Sure you didn’t,” I said angrily. “You stabbed him by accident.”

The other soldier, Tahir Tawfeek, pointed to the street rat’s hands. Only then did I see that he had two daggers. The one was still in his grasp.

Now, I glanced back at Raheem. His armor had been dented. The street rat had almost gotten through Raheem’s armor.

“I had only meant to block his blow,” Raheem said sadly. “I never wanted to kill him. I haven’t… I never… I hadn’t killed a man before.”

Raheem looked green, and I slid to his side and squeezed his shoulder.

“I am sorry you had to do that,” I said. “He gave you no choice.”

But I saw a few other street rats glowering at us as we dragged the dead thief away once the other soldier returned. No one had claimed the thief as of yet. We would wait a day to see if anyone did. If not, the thief would be buried in the sand dunes.

That was what we ended up having to do, burying him beneath a hill of sand. It was terrible work under the heat of the sun, but it was the weight of our sorrow and guilt that made the task so unbearable.

Aali would never forget nor forgive this. Never. I feared greatly what the consequences of this day would bring.

<<<>>>

It was not until the day after we buried the thief that I was able to spare some time to locate Aali. Only the street rat was not by the ruined building. Indeed, I could find him nowhere.

Anxious and worried more for the safety of the citizens of Amesta than for Aali himself, I sought out other street rats. I asked where I might find Aali. A few I gave coins. Other clothes or food. None gave me Aali. They all took what I offered and ran.

As frustrated as I was, Aali had to be more so. I could understand his anger and hatred given the circumstances, but had he known about both of the daggers? Had he realized that the guard hadn’t stabbed a defenseless street rat?

Would Aali even believe me if I told him the truth?

Honestly, I doubted he would. Truly, I believe the street rat to be beyond redemption. Even worse, I believed I had no other to blame but myself.

CHAPTER 19

N ahi, the outer ridges of the kingdom, the twenty-fifth of January 1391

Days have passed since the herald has announced Aali’s intentions to wed Princess Basma. I do not know how many days. I do not know when last I slept or ate or drank. I have my rations yet, but I cannot stop. I will not stop. I must locate Basma first. I must keep her safe.

It is not easy to avoid people, and perhaps I would have already found her if only I had. But as much as I wish to save her, I am endeavoring to ignore the lamp and the evil genie. I also wish to save the Saabs. None should have to live in fear that their family is cursed. I will do my best to delay helping the genie for as long as I can.

Each passing day, however, brings me more and more physical pain. Might it be that the veil of magic has been constructed within the promise? How else can I feel physical pain because I have not yet located any relevant information concerning the Saabs?

But I do not worry about myself. My concern for Basma is that high that I cannot ignore her.

I have wandered the desert for so long that I can barely tell where I am. Eventually, though, I realize the landscape is similar. Somehow, I have come full circle back to Basma’s kingdom. Surely, she is not here, but I do soon find purple-flowered cacti. Perhaps this is an old path to lead to her, but I do follow the way just the same.

My thoughts all day and all night are always focused on Basma. Although I do not know how she feels about me, I have come to love her. The emotion has crept on over me like a thief in the night. Truly, I do not know her well enough to declare my feelings, but she is strong. Powerful. Caring. Wonderful. Awe-inspiring. She is fierce and beautiful and loyal. She is all I could ever want, and I fear that I will never be brave enough to tell her how much she means to me. What good would come form that? I can never hope to marry her. She is the daughter of a sultan. I am nothing but a desperate man who has gone against his ideals in a possible vain attempt to keep people safe.

Guilt and sorrow weigh me down, and I drag my feet along the sand as I follow the cacti with the purple petals. Eventually, though, I reach a flat area of sand where no plants grow. No rocks. Nothing at all mars the sand.

Where can she be? Will I ever find her? Am I doomed to isolation for the rest of my days? Just then, a hand touches my shoulder. Shocked, I whirl around and nearly lose my footing.

“For a soldier, your balance is rather poor,” Basma says dryly.

I blink, startled and hopeful but also wary. “Basma? Are you here?”

“In the flesh.” She stares at me as if confused by my doubt.

“Where have you been?”

“Hiding. Trying to build up an army. Succeeding, albeit slower than I would have cared for. And you?”

“Some kingdoms have agreed to help when the time comes. I… Basma…”

I close my eyes and shake my head. As much as I do not wish to ask her about Saabs, the question is burning my tongue. If I open my mouth, surely it will burst out of me. No! I never should have agreed to this.

Basma eyes me curiously. “Are you all right?”

I shake my head. “Saabs,” I croak despite myself.

Her frown does not mar her beauty. “Who are they?” she asks innocently.

“You do not know them?”

“No. Why? Will they help us?”

“In a way,” I mutter.

The pain alleviates but only slightly. The magic is happy I at least asked, but one day, perhaps soon, that will not be enough.

“Do you know what Aali is up to?” I ask more easily. The ache in my chest has lifted, and I can breathe better.

“I do.” She shakes her head, her long black hair flowing around her like a cloak. “I will never marry him.”

“Good.” I beam, even though my happiness at her declaration is ridiculous.

Just then, the lamp in the cloth bag tied to my waist shakes and trembles violently. The smoke cloud rises from it, and the genie appears. Basma gasps, but I snarl.

“Jabir, you are trying my patience. Allow me to grant your final two wishes, and then you will be forced to help me and do nothing else until they are found.”

Basma gapes at me. “What is going on?” she whispers.

My nostrils flare. “And if I do not use my last two wishes?” I ask angrily.

“Then I will kill this princess here.” The genie nods to her, acting as if he has not just threatened her. “Make your choice. Either have your wishes and then I can have my revenge, or you can try to fight the promise you made and go mad. Then, I will find a new master, one who will actually keep their word. So, Jabir, what do you say? What wish will you demand of me? Or will you allow this princess to die?”

CHAPTER 20

A mesta, Amesta Palace, the fifteenth of October 1390

Halfway through October in my twenty-second year, I was in the throne room, awaiting orders from the sultan. From time to time, he would assign me to different posts. Twice now, he had sent me away as a messenger. Neither time had been to Nahi, much to my disappointment. I still thought of Imperial Princess Basma, although I knew that doing so was foolish. She was a princess. She deserved a prince who would one day serve as a great advisor to her. Despite my locating the worthless, magic-less ring, the Sultan of Amesta never used me as an advisor. He saw me as only good for my brawn, and perhaps he was right.

The sultan had just finished talking to another soldier when a guard entered the throne room. He rushed to bow.

“What news do you bring, Umar?” the sultan asked.

Umar straightened. “You have a visitor.”

“Who?” The sultan rubbed his beard. “I was not expecting anyone.”

“She has traversed afar to see you. She is from beyond the great desert.”

“Who is she?” the sultan demanded. “Speak plainly.”

“Forgive me.” Umar hastily bowed again. “Her name is Griselda. She is from the Kingdom of Gerlieve that once was part of Saxonia.”

I blinked. This Griselda had traveled a great distance indeed. I wondered why she had, and hoped the sultan would not send me away. Indeed, the sultan ignored me and bid Umar to bring forth the visitor.

Griselda entered a few minutes later. Her back was terribly stooped over. Her hair was graying, and she looked old, weary. It seemed to me that the passing of time had worn her down. Her back almost suggested that she had the weight on her shoulders. Her eyes, though, her eyes. As she walked pasted me toward the throne, she glanced over. Those eyes pierced through me, and I shuddered. The strangest feeling washed over me. She could not see into my soul, could she? It almost felt as if she had.

The woman halted a few feet from the king. “I would bow if I could,” she said in a soft enough voice turned slightly harsh from age. “Alas, I cannot. Please know I mean no disrespect.”

“None is taken.” The sultan waved her worry away. “Do tell me why you have traveled all the way to my kingdom.”

“I am Griselda. I was born a witch, but I am not one any longer.”

Confused, I furrowed my brows. Did she consider herself human now? How could a witch no longer be a witch?

“I gave up the rest of my magic so that I could become a seer,” she explained. “No seer can also be a witch.”

Oh. Interesting. I found all things concerning magic fascinating.

“Why would you become a seer?” the sultan asked.

“Because magic in Saxonia has diminished. Terrible storms stripped Saxonian witches of their magic. Now, Saxonia is home to magical creatures from another world, but even they are not as powerful as they have been.”

“I am sorry to hear this,” the sultan said, “but what is your news for me?”

“Magic is dying,” she said abruptly. “All magic. Everywhere. Not just in Saxonia. The entire world. I know the desert kingdoms do not have much magic nowadays, but the genies took refuge here. I hoped to speak to one, to see if their magic is also fading.”

I winced. The thought that genies were no longer all-powerful had never occurred to me. What if I did find a lamp, but the genie trapped inside could not bestow magic upon the world?

The sultan shook his head. “It grieves me greatly to hear this. You are right. The desert kingdoms do not have much in the way of magic outside of the genies. We have no witches of our own, and no fairies live nearby.”

“Do you know where I can find a genie?” Griselda asked eagerly. “Please. A genie might be able to help us all. I fear we may have no other recourse.”

Again, the sultan shook his head. “I do not think that many genies exist still. They have all been but forgotten.”

The seer hung her head. “I feared as much,” she murmured.

When she glanced at me, I straightened, confused. Had she seen me? Did she know my future?

“Much and more of the future is darkness for me now,” she said sadly. “I cannot see as clearly as before, but I have seen that there will be trouble to come in the near future here in the desert. Where exactly, I cannot say, unfortunately.”

“You think a genie could help?”

She held up her hands in a defenseless manner as best as she could. “I cannot be certain.” Frustration crept into her voice. “A seer who cannot see much.” She scowled. “I assume that you do not know where to locate a trapped genie either, then?”

The sultan grimaced. “I would hate to use one against his or her will,” he said.

I stood as still as a statue upon hearing that. The thought that I would be abusing the genie in order to have my wishes granted had never occurred to me. I supposed that was true to an extent, but if the genie had been trapped because of being wicked… I no longer knew what to do. As much as I wished to help the world, perhaps I should remained focused only on my kingdom.

The seer and the sultan spoke some more, and then Griselda departed. She was trying to visit many of the desert kingdoms. I walked her to the edge of the kingdom where she met a companion. I was grateful to see that she would not traverse the sandy wilderness alone. From the way the man gazed at her, I knew they were lovers. A pang shot straight to my heart. Would I ever know love myself? While I understood Imperial Princess Basma’s desire for isolation, at the moment, I felt far too alone, far too often.

Perhaps love was as elusive as magic.

CHAPTER 21

N ahi, the outer ridges of the kingdom, the twenty-fifth of January 1391

I  have no choice. I must make a second wish. Most certainly I cannot allow the genie to slay Basma!

My heart races furiously, and my mind considers and rejects hundreds of possible wishes. I glance at Basma. She is glowering at the genie.

“You cannot take a life,” she accuses. “A genie’s magic does not allow for that.”

“Are you so certain of that, Imperial Princess?” the genie says indifferently. “Test me. Try me. I can assure you that you are wrong.”

She shakes her head. “Do not do it, Jabir,” she calls to me. “He is lying.”

“Am I?” The genie nods to the left.

Basma and I both look over to see a snake slithering along the sand.

The genie stretches out his arm and points at the snake. Immediately, the snake withers and curls into a ball before lying there, still. Dead.

“Now, do you still believe yourself safe from me?” the genie declares, happy in his angry might.

Basma taps her foot, hands on her feet. “A snake versus a human. Far different if you ask me.”

“Shall I kill your pet tiger? Will that suffice?” the genie asks dryly.

“Stop this!” I shout, but the genie and Basma both ignore me.

“You will not touch my tiger!” Basma shouts.

“I did not touch the snake, did I?” the genie asks, amused.

“You will not kill anyone or anything,” Basma hisses.

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. That depends on the man here.” The genie pivots in his smoke cloud to face me. “Well?”

“How can I think when you will not stop talking?” I grumble.

“That is not my problem.” The genie shrugs. “My patience is running thin. I suggest you figure something out and soon, or else.”

“Yes, yes.” I glance at Basma from the corner of my eyes.

“You stopped the fighting,” she murmurs.

“I did, but now he is marrying the imperial princesses. He is not stopped.”

“Not yet.” Basma squeezes my shoulder and then drops her hand to clasp mine. “I understand why you agreed to his deal.”

“I shouldn’t have.”

“He must be…” She turns away from me toward the genie. “You’re old, aren’t you?”

“Somewhat,” the genie says in a tone that suggests he does not wish to provide much or even any information concerning himself.

“That is why you are so powerful,” she continues.

“I do believe so. Why all of the questions?”

“To give me time to determine my second wish.” I inhale deeply through my nose and exhale out my mouth. “And I have it.”

Basma nods to me. Her trust and faith in me empowers me, yet the genie’s might terrifies me. His anger, his hatred, he is too much like Aali. They are both creatures of darkness. Both of them must be stopped. That he needs me to have my wishes fulfilled before the binding of my vow to him can be completed means that the genie is not all-powerful. That alone gives me the courage to even consider this wish.

“Well, what is it?” the genie demands impatiently.

“My wish is that you will have a change in heart,” I say simply.

The genie gapes at me, shocked and alarmed. He visibly struggles to not lift his arms, but he does so anyhow. A white smoke billows around him, engulfing him completely, and when the white smoke dissipates, the face of the genie has been rendered so differently that I almost do not recognize him.

Gone is his anger. Gone is his rage, his fury, his hatred. All I see is peace in his eyes.

“All of these years, I have wished for revenge,” he says, wonder tinging his words. “I had been done wrong because I was not a human. My family, my father, turned away from me. My father hated me, and so I hated him. All I wanted was to kill his line. To make them all suffer as I have suffered.”

The genie holds out his arms and tilts his head back, soaking up the sun’s rays. Before my eyes, the genie seems to age incredibly fast, and, like the white smoke before him, he dissipates away.

“He’s died,” I remark.

“You stripped him of his life’s goal,” Basma says. She holds my hand.

“He had nothing left to life for without his revenge.” I rub my thumb over her knuckles. “I don’t want to become like him. I don’t want revenge to dominate my life.”

“We aren’t fighting for revenge. We are fighting to preserve life.”

“Yes, but perhaps I should have wished for Aali’s heart to be changed for my second wish and the genie’s for the third.”

Basma cups my face. “Have no regrets,” she murmurs.

“None?” I whisper back.

“Not a one.”

And so, with no regrets at all, I lean forward and press my lips to hers. She may pull away. She may slap me. It may be the only kiss we ever share, and yet, I truly do have no regrets. I love her. I adore her. I cherish her.

She is the future of the world, not Aali. Somehow, someway, we must find a way for her to win and Aali to fail.

But for this stolen moment, I will kiss her and let the world fall away.

CHAPTER 22

A mesta, Amesta Courtyard, the sixteenth of October 1390

T  he day after the seer left, several of the soldiers were training within the royal courtyard. I had been a soldier long enough that I did not need to train any longer, but still, I sometimes would watch the exercises.

A few of the guards from the palace would patrol on by past me. They would nod and continue on their way. I would nod back.

As they would spar and block and slide to evade an attack, my mind began to wander. The seer could not see the future. Did that mean that the world’s magic would be completely gone one day? How could we allow that to occur? If there were any means to reverse this trend, surely we must take it. Even the seer herself thought that genies were our best chance. Gradually, between watching the soldiers and nodding to the guards, an idea came to me.

That night, I went to one of the taverns. Several guards were inside, and I sat among them. After some drinks and delicious food, I cleared my throat.

“My fellow men,” I started, “we are not a magical race.”

The guards, heavier into their drinks than I, gave a rousing cheer of “yes.”

“But.” I held up a finger. “Genies have lived in the desert kingdoms for as long as there has been sand.”

More chants of “yes” rang out.

I grinned despite my inner sorrow. “Yet, the genies have either hidden themselves away, or else they are trapped within lamps. And do you know what a trapped genie will do?”

“Grant wishes!”

“Yes. Exactly so.” I slammed my fist onto the table. “They will grant wishes. Given the state of magic in the world, how can we not use a genie’s magic to create more magic? We must! All we have to do is find a lamp. Then, magic can flow freely again. What do you say?”

Now that I had asked for the men to join me, they grew quitter, more wary, glancing at each other in stupefied confusion.

I sighed and wearily rubbed my forehead. Again and again, I explained to them the importance of magic and how we needed magic in the world. Still, not a single one agreed to come with me. Frustration and anger warred within me, but I would not fight my own men. Of course not. What good would that serve? Perhaps I was foolish to think I could make a difference, but I longed to be the one to return magic to the world.

Love can be a source of magic.

The thought took me by surprise. What a ridiculous notion! And yet, it made sense. Even I had felt the love between the seer and her man, had felt the power behind it.

As the night wore on, a few guards and then more began to leave the tavern. Soon enough, I sat alone at the table.

Abruptly, someone claimed the seat across from me. I lifted my gaze from the table to see Aali there and scowled. “What is it you want?”

“You want a lamp,” he said.

I saw no reason to confirm this, so I merely sat there stoically.

“Allow me to come and help you,” he said eagerly. “I can thieve like no other. I can swipe the lamp from any person. I can—”

“Stay here in Amesta and stay out of trouble,” I said firmly. “That is what you can do.”

Aali slumped back.

I eyed him critically. “I’m sorry. I don’t know if there even is a lamp to be found.”

It was the truth, but likewise, it was an excuse, and well he knew it.

“You don’t trust me,” he said.

I grinned and shrugged. “Can you blame me?”

He slammed his fists onto the table. A mug rattled and nearly tipped over. “I do,” he said with a snarl. “I do blame you. I blame all of you.”

With that, Aali stalked out of there.

At times, Aali would slink into the shadows and not be seen for months or even years at a time. There, his anger and hatred would fester and grow. Of course, I did not trust him, however, I feared that one day, he would slink away. Instead, he would stand up and burn the entire kingdom.

He was nineteen now and no longer a child. He was strong and capable, despite being a street rat. If he wanted to put up a fight, I knew well that he would be a fierce and terrible foe. A hungry dog was an angry dog, and that was exactly what Aali was. Hungry and angry and even hateful.

If he were to ever get a lamp… I shuddered at the thought.

CHAPTER 23

N ahi, the outer ridges of the kingdom, the twenty-fifth of January 1391

Basma pulls away from the kiss, and I realize my arms have been holding her so close to me that there is no space between us. I cannot bring myself to release her entirely, so I keep one arm around her waist.

“We must make a plan,” she says.

“We must,” I agree. “Will you continue to remain in hiding?”

Basma shakes her head. Her long hair brushes against my arm. So soft. Everything about her is perfect. “We must draw him out.”

Her declaration shocks me, appalls me, frightens me.

“It will be dangerous,” I warn, almost angry that she would be willing to do something so reckless.

“I know, but it is necessary.”

“Indeed. But for me, not you.”

“Aali wants to marry me,” she says.

“What happened to 'he cannot, will not?'” I ask through gritted teeth.

She ignores me. “We will use me as bait. Aali will not be able to resist. He wants to rule my kingdom. Although he killed my father and claims it, the people have all fled. He has the land, but it is the people he wishes to lord over most of all.”

“You wish to walk willingly into the lion’s den?” I shake my head. “I know you have a pet tiger, but, Basma, what you wish to do is far too dangerous!”

“Yes, but only until you steal Aali’s lamp. Then, the genie will be bound to you for three wishes.”

“Yes, but—”

“There are no buts,” she says grimly. “No regrets either.”

But her eyes darken as she says this. I feel the heavy weight of oppressive guilt as does she.

“So many have lost their lives already. Can we not do whatever we must in order to stop him?” she asks desperately.

“I will not have you lose your life.”

“Then, fetch the lamp as quickly as you can. We can end this together, just you and me. No need for an army on either side. Just the three of us.”

I shake my head, still uncertain and worried, so very worried.

“You made a deal with a terrible genie in order to try to stop Aali,” she reminds me.

“I know, but you were not in danger for that plan.”

She smiles then. “Except for when that genie threatened me,” she points out sweetly.

I cannot bring myself to smile nor laugh. “Basma…”

“Jabir. Please. Let me do this. I must. I am the rightful ruler of Nahi. Allow me to save not only my kingdom but all of the desert kingdoms.”

Words fail me.

“Why are you unwilling to allow me to do that which I must?” she demands. Her tone is sharp, but I sense no anger on her part.

“It is not that I do not trust you or think you incapable,” I say slowly. “It is just that I cannot bear the thought of losing you.”

“You will not,” she declares.

“But do you understand that which I mean?” I ask desperately. I cannot help but sweep her into my arms.

“I cannot—will not—allow you to act as if I am incapable of taking care of myself.” She struggles free from my embrace.

“That is not it at all, and you know it,” I say angrily. “Not at all.”

The fierce determination on her face slowly melts away, and she nods. “We cannot.”

“Be together? Don’t I know it, but that doesn’t matter. That doesn’t change my feelings for you, Basma.” I wince. “Imperial Princess Basma. Or should I address you as queen? Your Majesty?”

“I am not crowned as sultana just yet,” she says. “I remain an imperial princess, but I am the ruler just the same. And we cannot give into our feelings. The weight of so many rests on our shoulders. How can we be so selfish as to worry about ourselves and our needs and our wants?”

I gape at her. Am I hearing her correctly? “Do you mean to say you… that my feelings… You feel the same?” I ask, foolishly stumbling over my words.

This time, it is Basma who kisses me. “I do,” she whispers, “but we must adhere to the plan. I will lure out Aali, and you will steal his lamp. Then, you can wish away this nightmare.”

“As you say, so it shall be done.” I steal one more kiss before we finalize the details of our plan—not in sand, but in stone.

CHAPTER 24

A mesta, Amesta Palace Library, the first of December 1390

Every chance I'd had over the past month and a half since I declined Aali’s aid in locating a lamp, I had been reading. I would sneak into the Amesta Palace Library and read anything and everything I could about genies and lamps especially.

For centuries, lamps would exchange hands. They would be passed down from generation to generation. However, in recent memory, all of the lamps had gone missing. Not a single location was known.

Tracing the different lamps as far forward as I could, I soon surmised that a family had a lamp somewhere in the desert just within the border of Amesta. The family just disappeared, and the lamp was never seen again.

Now, sandstorms were a common occurrence around the perimeter of Amesta. It was very possible that one such storm had smothered the family and confiscated the lamp. All that meant was that I had to uncover where exactly the family had lived and start digging.

Recently, the sultan had taken me on as an advisor. As such, I had not been given leave for quite some time. When I asked him for a week, he granted me a fortnight with his blessing.

Thrilled despite having to go off alone, I sought out the desert. The records suggested that the family lived northwest, so I headed in that direction.

For the entirety of the first of December, I sought to find any kind of a landmark that suggested an adobe had once been there. Of course, there was none to be found.

All of the hours of the second day, I dug to find such a landmark to no avail.

On the third day, I expanded my search to encompass both farther north and west. After all, a vicious enough sandstorm to wipe out an entire family could surely have blown the lamp in either direction.

On the fourth day, I was nearly ready to give up.

On the fifth, I woke up feeling both a sense of dread and elation. Something told me that today would prove life-changing.

Indeed, would that feeling ever turn out to be accurate.

CHAPTER 25

N ahi, the outer ridges of the kingdom, the sixth of February 1391

F or days now, I have been waiting rather impatiently. Basma sent one of her soldiers to deliver a message to Aali that asked him to meet her here in Nahi. She told Aali that she wished to speak, but peacefully. Without any soldiers on her side or his. Hopefully, he will abide by that. After all, he is not to fight for the kingdoms, and that includes Nahi.

But with the genie who granted that wish being dead, I cannot be certain Aali will still be bound by that. We must hope he will comply. If he brings guards, my chances of recovering the lamp will be nearly guaranteed to fail, and I may lose a hand or even my head.

Finally, nearly a week into the second month of the year, the self-proclaimed ruler of seven kingdoms makes his way by chariot to Nahi. The drawbridge is lowered for him. Basma stands with her handmaidens only. She does not wish for a fight. She is doing her part to ensure that no battles occur.

I slip inside the wall just before the drawbridge is raised once again. Thankfully, Aali has come alone. I have asked for Basma’s guards to have a perimeter around the outer wall to ensure that his guards do not come at a later time and scale the walls.

Basma meets with Aali in the courtyard, and I trail behind, keeping to the shadows of the few trees that manage to grow here.

“Tell me about yourself, Aali,” Basma says conversationally after she has asked how his trek had fared. “I wish to know more about the man who wishes to be ruler of the entire world. Have you always wished for this?”

“I do not like to speak of my past,” he says gruffly.

“Why not?” she asks innocently. “A person’s past defines them. Are we nothing but our memories, our past experiences, our failures, and our successes? I would not be the person I am today if my father still lived.”

Aali stiffens and glances at her suspiciously.

She laughs and raises her hand as she crosses over to sit by a dried-up fountain. Her tiger approaches and lays its massive head in her lap. Gently, she strokes the fur.

“Do not worry, about either the tiger or myself,” she says indifferently. “You are quite safe here. I merely wish to talk. You see, my father always promised me that I could marry whom I wished. I do not know if I wish to marry you. My father is dead, yes, but I would still like to have a say in who I give my hand.”

“I understand,” Aali says slowly.

“If my father lived,” Basma starts. She hesitates and draws in a breath. “He was a good and decent man, but he always only ever wished for peace. I do believe we would have been married long before now if he lived. He would have gone back on his promise. He would have forced me to. If you wish for our marriage to not be forced, please speak.”

She is doing a wonderful job distracting Aali, but, alas, she is distracting me too. Slowly, I slip forward to another tree and then to the back of the fountain. Basma’s back is to me.

Hesitatingly, Aali crosses over and sits on the edge of the fountain with a fair amount of distance between himself and Basma and her tiger.

“I grew up poor. My parents died. I never knew them. Not well, at least. I do know that my father once called me by the wrong name. He called me Aali Saab. Mentioned something about needing to be strong, to rise above any challenge, any curse. I never understood what he meant. I did rise above any challenge. Although others tried to mold me as if I had no free will of my own, I…”

The words from Aali keep on flowing, but I am struck dumb and dismayed.

Aali is the last in that Saab line that the evil genie wished dead. The genie would have saved the day for us after all if only I had learned this truth sooner.

A shock, yes, but I cannot allow myself to be distracted any longer. Slowly, carefully, I slink along the fountain toward Aali. I crawl so that he won’t see me. The ledge juts out far enough that the overhang provides plenty of coverage for me to hide beneath.

But just when I reach toward the pouch, I realize that the lamp is not in it. His pouch is nearly flattened.

He must have suspected. Perhaps the lamp isn’t even on his person at all. Aali may have buried it somewhere. Regardless, the lamp has not been stolen. Aali remains the master of the genie, and we have no means to stop him from taking over the entire world. Yes, not all kingdoms have imperial princesses, but surely that will not stop him and then where will we be?

CHAPTER 26

A mesta, somewhere in the Mulish Desert, the fifth of December 1390

With renewed energy, I dug and dug and dug. I used my shovel to forcibly shift through the sand. I created holes deep enough to bury myself within. I dug even deeper. My arms and legs and back all ached. Sweat poured down my back. I felt exhausted and starving. In my haste to make the best use of my time, I had not brought with me any food. In hindsight, that was most decidedly not the best use of my time, after all.

Still, I pushed through. Digging, toiling, shoving, nearly crying, I pushed myself to the limit and even beyond. It was terrible and thrilling and heartbreaking.

Around noon, I had to stop. I tried to climb out of the massive hole I had just dug, but I lacked the arm strength to. I rested there, sitting, the back of my head resting along the wall. Slowly, I lolled my head from side to side, when, suddenly, it pressed against something much harder than sand.

Confused, I crawled and turned around. With my fingers, I scraped away enough sand to be able to find some stone poking through. And next to the stone was mud. And more stone. A part of a wall.

Desperate, eager, my energy renewed, I dug and dug and dug some more. I used my fingers and my hands. I used the shovel until it broke. I kept on digging.

If the lamp was nearby, I would find it this very day. Not tomorrow or the next day. Today.

My nails were torn. My fingers and knuckles were bleeding. Still, I continued. I had come too far to slow down now. Just a little more, a little farther, a little deeper…

Something else emerged from the sand. Excited, I yanked it loose and nearly yelped.

A skull. From the size of it, the father’s.

Now subdued, I resumed my search, but more cautiously now. I found more bones, more skulls. The parents had two children, a boy and a girl. Three skulls lined the floor of the hole. A fourth. Two hands, four, five, six, seven… I could not find the last one.

Wait. Here.

I carefully fished out the last hand, and wouldn’t you know it, but clenched in the curled bony fingers was none other than the lamp?

CHAPTER 27

N ahi, the outer ridges of the kingdom, the sixth of February 1391

T  his is no time but now. None at all. Aali has no guards. It is only himself, Basma, her tiger, and myself. Together, Basma and I must end this now. If he does not have the lamp on him, the fight will be fair. Then again, if my wish holds true, Aali will not be able to fight back. How honorable would that be?

Yet again, he would not be fighting us for the kingdoms. He would be fighting for his life. Surely he will be able to fight back.

From my belt, I remove a dagger. The hilt feels so smooth and familiar in my hand. Slowly, I rise.

Aali chuckles and steps back. “Ah, Jabir. I knew you could not be far. You love her, don’t you? I've suspected it for some time now.”

Shocked, I glance at Basma. How could Aali have known this?

Aali holds up his hand. Upon his finger is a black-stoned magical ring that looks very familiar.

“Ah, yes. You see, I have already used my second wish. I have magic. I know. I know. You wished to find a magic to reinforce or amplify the world’s magic.”

I wince. If not for Aali, I would have done so. If not for the evil genie, I would have done so. No matter what happens here and now, I must locate Aali’s lamp! That genie can solve the world’s issue with magic. That the world’s magic is dying saddens me greatly.

That Aali has magic himself now sickens me to the core. I am so disgusted that bile rises up in the back of my throat.

“Go on, then. Attack me,” Aali taunts. “Try and kill me if you can. Be the brave soldier you were supposed to be. Not that you are. You deserted your sultan!”

“My sultan is none other than Omran Boulos! Where is he, Aali? Did he have to die for you to be raised up as the sultan? Did you even stop to consider what your wish might do to him? No, of course not! You are as selfish as they come. You wish to take, take, take. You have never worked honestly a single day of your life. That is why you sought the lamp. So that you could live in comfort. You hated others for what they had and—”

“Why should others live in comfort and have all of the clothes and food, the best homes? Why even should Basma here have a pet tiger? How can it be that they are willing to turn a blind eye to those without? Why is it, Jabir? How honorable and fair is that?”

“Life has its moments,” I say desperately.

I stalk toward him, but he does not seem frightened in the least. If anything, he seems to want me to advance. That makes me wary in and of itself.

“We all have highs. We all experience lows. That is life.”

“Life is a battle,” Aali declares. “You as a former soldier should know and appreciate that.”

I nod. “It is, but it is a battle that can be fought with many allies. No one ever has to be alone.”

“No? No? What have you done for others, Jabir? You knew I was starving, but you also knew others were too. Did you help them all?”

I grit my teeth. “Now that you have the wealth and the power to help them, both of which I lacked, mind you, have you helped them? No? No. Because you only think of yourself. This quest for power isn’t for them. It never has been. You only ever wanted power and wealth and comfort for yourself, all others be damned!”

I lunge forward and slash with the blade. The vile foe sidesteps the attack easily, and his boot lands square in my back. I stumble forward, roll, and sweep out my leg.

Aali goes down hard. Before I can move, however, he rises up and hovers in the air.

“You cannot win,” he taunts. “You will never win. You are nothing. You will never amount to anything. Basma and I will marry. I will take over the entire world. I will be the savior. My magic will bring balance to the world. All will be well again.”

“So you say.” I’m breathing heavily already. My training has fled me in my anger and my rage. I must calm down and think rationally or else he will succeed, and I will be the one to fall.

A ball of fire hovers above Aali’s hand. He throws it at me, and I dance backward to avoid the purple flames. Again and again, he sends fire, ice, or even lightning bolts at me. His magic is fearsome, a wonder to behold, but all I am worried about is surviving.

Basma. Where is she? And her tiger? They are not by the fountain.

The fountain. I climb onto it, cock back my arm, and launch my dagger into the air.

Aali laughs as he shifts to the side. The dagger harmlessly begins to fall.

I am not weaponless, though. I bring out my sword.

The handle suddenly heats up in my hand, and I cannot stand to hold it. My hand opens, and the sword falls to the ground where it melts entirely, engulfed by black and blue flames.

Now, I am weaponless, and Aali seems to know this as he launches toward me.

CHAPTER 28

A mesta, somewhere in the Mulish Desert, the fifth of December 1390

T  he lamp was deceptively beautiful. I could not stop staring at it. Within this small lamp was a genie. A magical being. A creature who could grant three wishes. One who could save not only Amesta but also the rest of the kingdoms. Witches might regain their magic. Fairies might move to the desert. Perhaps even minotaurs would come back from extinction.

The possibilities were endless, and yet, I hesitated. A dream at night could easily have twisted terribly into a vicious nightmare. What if the same could be said of a genie’s lamp? What if you wished for something, and unintended consequences occurred? How could one best determine how to phrase each wish so as not to be misconstrued?

That baffled me so much that I sat there, in the huge hole, for far longer than I should have. When I finally forced myself to stand, I groaned. My leg muscles had locked up.

Gradually, I was able to jump and reach the top of the hole. Before I could pull myself up, a dagger scraped along my knuckles. Shocked, I nearly released my hold on the edge.

But Aali was ready for me. He stepped back and then stomped forward directly on my fingers.

With a strangled yelp, I fell back into the hole. My ankle twisted beneath me, and I collapsed to the ground.

Sudden darkness covered the top of the hole. Aali stood there with a huge rock in his hand. He threw several at me. The first couple, I managed to evade, but then one landed on the top of my head. I whirled around, and another struck me in the back.

On and on, Aali attacked me. My dagger and sword would do no good here. Not unless I managed to climb out of here.

Aali spat at me and then backed away. To summon a genie? No! I could never allow a man with such angry and hatred to have control over a genie who could change the face of the entire world with only a single wish.

Despite my torn nails and nearly raw fingers, I latched onto the top of the hole. Gingerly, I climbed back up. Aali stood several feet away. He held the lamp aloft while the sun smiled at me.

No! Perhaps I shouted my thought because Aali shifted his feet to face me. He tucked the lamp into his shirt and then stomped toward me. I was afraid he might have a weapon on him, but he did not brandish one. Good.

Wait. A weapon. I had weapons! Cursing myself for becoming dehydrated, furious that my thoughts had slowed, I struggled to yank out my dagger from its sheath at my belt.

Already, though, Aali was on me. I had three years on him and training, but I was fatigued and worn out from the hours of digging. I was starving and my reflexes were slowed.

Aali backhanded me. I staggered and struggled to plant my feet in the sand. He walked around to my backside and kicked hard the back of my knee. I fell immediately, dropping faster than a stone in water.

The street rat wasn’t done with me yet. He stomped on my ankle and twisted, nearly breaking it. Agonizing pain ricocheted throughout my body. Even worse, he kicked my back so hard and then trampled my backside, his foot last connecting with the back of his head as he jumped from me.

With tears streaming down my face, I tried to stand, but I couldn’t. I could hardly even crawl, so terrible was the pain. I did manage to free my dagger.

But I was too late. I was far too late. I could hardly even lift my head up. Aali had the lamp. He had his chance for revenge, and I had full faith that he would bring down a great and terrible wrath upon myself and maybe even all of Amesta.

CHAPTER 29

N ahi, the outer ridges of the kingdom, the sixth of February 1391

I  stare Aali down as he approaches. A ball of lightning, fire, and ice is forming in his hands. He means to slay me in one move.

The lamp. It’s on him, after all. I see the outline of it within his shirt. He’s wearing several layers, which is why I have not seen it until now.

“Jabir!” Basma calls, and I glance over at her. She’s holding up my dagger.

But Aali is nearly upon me. The fountain will provide no cover. I hold out my arms, ready to accept defeat when suddenly, a force rushes through my legs.

The tiger. I’m so shocked that I fall onto the tiger’s back, sitting on the majestic animal.

Basma calls my name again. As the tiger races away from Aali, she launches my dagger into the air. The tiger bounds over, and I manage to snatch the dagger before it can hit the ground.

Aali has thrown his ball. Curtesy of the tiger, the attack misses. Now, Aali is slamming attacks of all kinds at us, more fire, more ice, more bolts. They all miss.

Without warning, the tiger leaps into the air so high and fast that I am thrown upward from its back. I collide with Aali, and we tumble to the ground. A ball of ice forms in his hands, but it dies immediately as I plunge the dagger into his chest.

“You think you are all powerful,” I mutter as I twist the blade. “The genie gave you your magic. The genie is more powerful than you. Magic is dying. Maybe magic has no place in this world. Besides, magic isn’t all that’s dying.”

“You… too…” Aali mutters. He struggles to sputter forth one last ball of fire, but he lacks the strength to.

I remove the dagger, but I do not need to stab again.

It is done. It is finished.

Aali is dead.

Instead of feeling relief, I feel a sense of loss. I wish I could have helped him. I wish life had not been so cruel to him. I wish he could have known happiness. Not any two persons can ever walk the same path. Unfortunately, his led to anger and hatred. Now, maybe with his death, peace can once more reign.

I hope.

Basma rushes over to me. “Are you all right?” she asks as she pats along my arms and my back.

“Yes, yes. I’m fine.” I wipe my dagger on Aali’s clothes, wincing at the red marring the white silk. Then, I sheath the dagger.

“It’s not yet finished, is it?” Basma whispers.

“Almost.”

Although I am loath to, I rifle through Aali’s shirts to retrieve the lamp. Quickly, I rub it.

The lavender genie appears in his red and black smoke cloud. “Ah. A new master.” He does not even look at Aali’s fallen form. “What is your bidding?”

I do not hesitate. With both of my hands, I hold up the lamp. “I wish for you to be free.”

The genie gapes at me. His shock thrills me. “Yes,” he murmurs as the lamp crumbles to dust in my hands.

As soon as the lamp is gone, the smoke dissipates as well. The genie now stands before me on two legs. With a shudder, he transforms his appearance to that of a tall, muscular man with brown hair and gray eyes.

“To be free is all I've wanted since I was first trapped,” the genie whispers. He tilts back his head and soaks in the sun.

Then, abruptly, he falls down. A huge smile stretches over his face, but his chest does not rise and fall.

“You freed him of both the lamp and his mortal coil,” Basma murmurs.

“He died of happiness,” I agree. “I know what would make me most happy.”

“I think I might know.” Basma grins. Her tiger wanders over, purring like rolling thunder as Basma pets it.

“May I marry you? I know I don’t have much, but I—”

“You love me. You have shown devotion to Nahi. You have tried to help all of the desert kingdoms. Yes, I will marry you.”

“Not because you love me?” I tease.

She laughs and hugs me tight. “And of course, because I love you.”

It is only a matter of days before we are wed. The sultan I feared dead emerged from hiding to reclaim Amesta, but I remain in Nahi, with my wife, who is now sultana. I am her chief advisor. Together, neither of us can be happier. But while I have plenty of hope for the future, I also worry too. None knows what may happen, and I can only hope that no more anger and hatred will affect the days to come.

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How to Befriend an Angel

Magical Awakening

Friends attempt to save a friend from a magical sickness

A Magical Sickness

A Magical Adventure

A Magical Misadventure

A Magical Awareness

A Magical Journey

A Magical Odyssey

A Magical Disaster

A Magical Crisis

The Winged Beast Chronicles

Dragons enslave humans.

Flames of Death in Wrath and Ruin

The Arm of Fear

The Wings of Fury

The Birth of Hate

The Claws of Agony

The Hand of Alarm

The Fin of Dread

The Waves of Ruin

Magic Truth

Epic fantasy with K.N. Lee

Touched by Magic

Magic Incarnate

Magic + Faith + Teens

A Question of Faith

A Matter of Doubt

A Balance of Power

A Journey of Despair

A Measure of Gloom

A Glimmer of Hope

Marion’s Misery

Crystal’s Conviction in Prime Fiction (Phoenix Prime Anthology)

Alan’s Awakening in Prime Fantasy (Prime Tales)

Kingdom of Arnhem

Knights. Magic. Romance.

Woman of Honor

Knight of Glory

Champion of Valor

Heroes of Falledge

Superheroes need love too!

Black Hellebore

White Hellebore

Scarlet Magi

Beyond Boundaries

Can love cross class boundaries?

Masked Love

Starry Love

Standalones

Dark Hunt

Vampires vs witches vs humans

The Cursed Thorn in Dark Rising

A reverse gender retelling of Beauty and the Beast

Bloodlust

Epic fantasy with forbidden love

Not on Her Watch

A military romance

The Test of Time

Unpredictable time travel

Love Before Honor

Medieval knight. Regency lady. Magical Christmas.

Joy to the World

One lady. Two dukes, one an imposter

Christmas Kisses

Two gentlemen, only one Lady Anna’s mother approves of

Starving for Love

The Little Mermaid with a zombie twist

Guns and Fangs

A vampire huntress turns into that which she hates

Shattering Souls

A medical student discovers another has healed a cancer patient… with magic?

Troubled Souls

The cancer patient from Shattering Souls is now manifesting magic herself.

The Storm

Bonnie Bennett discovers a new magical threat in sunny Hawaii.

The Matchmaker’s Match

A brewer of love potions just may have met her match

Anthologies

Phoenix Fantasy (Phoenix Prime Anthology)

Phoenix Prime Collection of Fantasy Shorts

Flight of the Phoenix (Phoenix Prime Anthology)

Another Phoenix Prime Collection of Fantasy Shorts

Phoenix Imagining (Phoenix Prime Collection Book 1)

Yet another Phoenix Prime Collection of Fantasy Shorts

Phoenix Fantasy II (Phoenix Prime Collection Book 11)

Still more Phoenix Prime Collection of Fantasy Shorts

Phoenix Force (Prime Tales)

Phoenix Prime Collection of SciFi Shorts

Phoenix Galactic (Phoenix Prime Anthology)

Another Phoenix Prime Collection of SciFi Shorts

Phoenix Galactic II (Phoenix Prime Collection Book 12)

Yet Another Phoenix Prime Collection of SciFi Shorts

Primed for Action - Defending Home (Phoenix Prime Collection Book 16)

A Collection of Stories from Phoenix Prime Authors

Prime Shadows (Phoenix Prime Collection)

A Collection of Dark Shorts from Phoenix Prime Authors

Shadowed Light (Inanna's Circle Game Book 6)

A Collection of Varied Stories from Phoenix Prime Authors

Phoenix Romance (Phoenix Prime Anthology)

Phoenix Prime Collection of Romance Shorts

Phoenix Romance II (Phoenix Prime Collection Book 13)

Another Collection of Romance from Phoenix Prime Authors

Hearts in the Sky (Phoenix Prime Collection Book 3)

A Collection of Western Romances from Phoenix Prime Authors

Holiday Heartwarmers: An Anthology of Short Stories

A Collection of Holiday stories from Phoenix Prime Authors

Something Wicked (A Collection of Haunting Tales)

A perfect collection for Halloween

Under Your Spell

Every day is magical with this spellbinding collection!

Haunted Souls: A Halloween Anthology

More Horror Short Stories

Shiver me Timbers

All the pirates you could want!

Autumn’s Kiss

Fall into love with these romances

Candy Cane Kisses

A Romantic Holiday Short Story Anthology

Love & Grace

An uplifting love story for everyone

Viva Las Vegas

Finding love in Las Vegas

Love and Diamonds

Valentine’s Day Short Stories

Never Too Late

The 2017 Bluestocking Belles Collection

Belles in Blue: Coloring Book

The perfect coloring book for any Regency fan

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

First and always, I have to thank my husband. I’m sure it can’t be easy being married to a writer, and I am so appreciative of all the support over the years. I love you, Todd! Thank you to my wonderful children for understanding that Mommy has work she has to do, but she still does and always will love you!

To some of the best writer friends a girl could ever have. You know who you are and I can’t wait until we can retreat again!

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention my wonderful street team. You keep me going, and I’m writing for you and for all of my fans. Thank you for all you do for me!

And finally, I want to acknowledge my readers. You are why I write. As long as you keep reading, I’ll keep writing. So please keep reading, all right?

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Nicole Zoltack is a USA Today bestselling author who loves to write romances. Of course. She did marry her first kiss, after all!

When she’s not writing about knights, superheroes, or witches, she enjoys spending time with her loving husband, three energetic young boys, and precious baby girl. She enjoys riding horses (pretending they’re unicorns, of course!) and going to the PA Renaissance Faire dressed in garb. She’ll also read anything she can get her hands on. Her current favorite TV shows are The Walking Dead and Stranger Things.

Everyone who signs up for her newsletter receives a free book, so sign up now!

For more information

www.NicoleZoltack.com

Nicole.Zoltack@NicoleZoltack.com

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Contents

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Other Books By Nicole Zoltack

Acknowledgments

About the Author