Sultan's Choice: Tales of the Djinn, #5 Read online

  “You’re not a servant,” Georgie blurted. “You’re one of the concubines.”

  She guessed she wasn’t supposed to say this. Iksander jerked and looked hard at the djinniya.

  “You’re a member of the harem?” he asked sharply.

  A hot red blush burst in the female’s cheeks.

  “Don’t you recognize her?” Connor asked before she could reply. “I thought all the concubines were yours . . . unless you have so many you can’t keep track?”

  Georgie almost snickered. Despite Connor’s innocent tone, she suspected he was trying to spare the embarrassed woman a reprimand. The djinniya dropped to her knees still holding the packages. Her flustered state didn’t make her less graceful. Not a single item fell off the towering pile.

  “Forgive me. I know I shouldn’t have left the women’s quarters without permission. I was simply curious to meet our rescuer. I couldn’t resist bringing the gifts myself.”

  “Your ‘rescuer,’” Iksander repeated cynically. Clearly, he doubted this was her true motive. “It’s Yasmin, isn’t it? Daughter of the merchant Aydin, who pioneered the process for transporting goods across the In-Betweens?”

  Yasmin inclined her head more submissively. “Your Majesty’s memory flatters my lowly self.”

  Iksander frowned harder.

  “Maybe Yasmin and I could, um, take our conversation elsewhere?” Georgie suggested. “If it’s really inappropriate for her to be here.”

  “Fine,” Iksander relented—but not like the harem girl’s infraction was forgiven. “There’s a conservatory with tea things you might find pleasant.”

  He gestured toward the glassed-in space.

  “Great,” Georgie said with more cheeriness than she felt. She watched Yasmin rise with her pile of presents and couldn’t quite hold her tongue. “Do you need help carrying that stuff?”

  “Oh no,” Yasmin said. “I promise this is nothing.”

  Because Yasmin seemed to be waiting for her to lead, Georgie preceded her to the garden room. This was yet another enchanting chamber—courtyard outside, greenery inside, beveled edges of the panes sparking tiny rainbows into the air. Georgie wouldn’t have been surprised to see the queen of faeries materialize. She didn’t but, as promised, tea supplies awaited. Low cushioned chairs surrounded a pretty table on which a silver samovar and glasses sat.

  “Please don’t kneel again,” she said when Yasmin began to. “I know you’re probably supposed to, but it makes me feel weird.”

  “Because you’re human.” Yasmin looked at her directly. True to her claim, her expression was curious.

  “I’m just regular folk,” Georgie said.

  Yasmin considered this. Was a concubine regular folk or something more privileged? “Shall I sit?” she asked after a moment.

  “Please.” Georgie pulled out a chair for her.

  Yasmin didn’t object. Instead, she smiled happily, seeming glad to relinquish formal restrictions. She set the heap of packages on the table and patted them. “These are clothes and other female necessities. We heard you arrived with no belongings except what were on your back. The sultan will provide for you, of course, but women do know better what makes them feel attractive.”

  Georgie must have pulled a dubious face, because Yasmin laughed softly. “It’s true then. You don’t care about attracting males. You’re a modern human female. How delightful!”

  “Is it?” Georgie asked, wondering at the concubine’s reaction.

  “For me, it is. I’m so interested in people from your dimension.” She pressed slender fingers to her full mouth. “I hope our gift doesn’t miss the mark. Please don’t feel bad that we didn’t bring one for your friend. We of the harem can’t offer presents to other males.”

  “Because you belong to Iksander.”

  “Well . . . yes, but you mustn’t get the impression he visits us all the time. Nothing could be further from the truth. Sultan Iksander was devoted to his kadin. He rarely favored us with his presence once she arrived.”

  The kadin was the sultan’s deceased wife. As it happened, Georgie met Najat as a ghost, after Luna, the sultan’s evil enemy murdered her. Apart from differences in coloring and temperament, Georgie and Najat very much resembled each other. Spirit twins was what the djinniya had termed them. Yasmin spoke as if Georgie would replace Najat as premiere consort . . . and as if that idea didn’t distress her. In truth, she seemed to be reassuring Georgie that the path to claim Iksander was wide open.

  Confused as to what Yasmin’s angle was, Georgie braced one hand on the table and leaned forward. “Am I missing something? Don’t you concubines want Iksander to, um, favor you again? Didn’t him going exclusive with Najat undermine your reason for being here? I’d think you guys resented her.”

  This question must have been too blunt. Yasmin’s extraordinary lashes fluttered for a few seconds. She looked down, her hands twisting together in her silk-covered lap. “Perhaps some felt that way.”

  “Only some?”

  Yasmin’s mouth worked. “Most?”

  “Be honest,” Georgie pressed. “Whose idea was it to bring those gifts?”

  “Iksander’s mother, the valide sultana . . . though I might have suggested it would be a civilized thing to do.”

  Georgie snorted in amusement, and Yasmin looked up again. She seemed to decide to be frank. “Living in the harem can be boring when there’s little chance of fulfilling your purpose. Maybe when there is as well. I was so flattered to be picked at first. My appointment was a great honor for my family. Now I fear I’ve had too much time to think. I’m not sure even the prospect of giving birth to a future sultan would bring me happiness.”

  “I get that,” Georgie said.

  “I knew you would. That’s why I had to come. Just to be understood, even once, is a miracle to me.” Overcome with feeling, Yasmin gripped Georgie’s hands. “Please don’t think badly of the sultan for his anger at my intrusion. He’s a good man, not to mention a skillful lover. It really was disobedient of me to come.”

  Though the genie was acting like the opposite of a rival, Georgie’s brain veered in its own direction. Yasmin knew Iksander was good in bed, which implied they’d been intimate. Iksander hadn’t recognized her at first, but Yasmin didn’t seem the type any male would forget.

  She’d also said she had a lot of time. What sort of man-pleasing tricks did bored harem females learn?

  “How many of you are there?” Georgie asked impulsively.

  “Of me?”

  “Concubines.”

  Yasmin waved her hand airily. “No more than four or five dozen. I heard Iksander’s grandfather had three hundred.”

  “I guess the current sultan is a paragon of restraint by comparison.”

  Georgie’s sarcasm flew over Yasmin’s head.

  “Quite,” the djinniya said earnestly.

  Georgie rubbed her earlobe, reminding herself she had no real right to be upset with Iksander. So he had fifty or sixty lovers with nothing to do but wait for him to show up. This was his home, his culture. Thus far, everyone they’d met—Yasmin included—seemed to regard him as a good leader. For a man in his position, to have a seraglio was normal. Committing himself to a single partner—or two, in her and Connor’s case—was the controversial choice. Yasmin acted as if she wouldn’t mind, but she might be the exception.

  Georgie had been silent a bit too long.

  “Shall we open your packages?” Yasmin suggested politely, no longer in confiding mode. “You can let me know if I forgot anything.”

  “That’s very kind of you,” Georgie said.

  Maybe kindness did motivate the woman. Regardless, if all the concubines were like her, matching their scrupulous manners was going to be challenge.

  “WHAT DO YOU SUPPOSE Georgie and your harem girl are discussing?”

  Connor had followed Iksander’s seemingly aimless meander to a corner of the bedroom. Here, scattered atop a cushioned platform, he recognized a lute, a ski
n drum, and an oddly shaped tiny violin. He supposed musicians came here, perhaps to play their sultan to sleep. The area wasn’t near the garden room, but it did have a straight line of sight to it.

  Iksander had been plucking a zither’s strings, reacquainting himself with his possessions now he was home again. At Connor’s question, he jerked and looked up at him.

  Connor realized he must have hit on the text of the sultan’s thoughts. He often did that. Being an angel meant he had extra empathy.

  “She’s not my harem girl,” Iksander said.

  Connor smiled faintly. “She isn’t anyone else’s.”

  “Fine. I slept with her. Once.” Iksander waved his hand vaguely. “I slept with all of them during the interval when Najat and I were estranged.”

  “I’m not accusing you of anything. I assume you have the right to make love to them any time you want—assuming they don’t object.”

  Iksander’s lips pressed together and turned down. “They’re not likely to do that.”

  “Are they afraid of you?”

  He shook his head. “They might be afraid of my mother. She runs the harem. Mostly the women compete for my attention.”

  He didn’t seem pleased by this. “Will they view Georgie as competition?”

  “Probably. You as well, in case you’re wondering. Mind you, they’ll be surprised. You’re my first male lover.” Connor couldn’t deny the burst of warmth this inspired. Apparently, he wasn’t the only mind reader. Iksander’s mouth curved up at his reaction. “I trust you appreciate me risking a brush with scandal on your behalf.”

  “I do, though—for your sake—I hope it doesn’t become uncomfortable.”

  Iksander touched his arm reassuringly. They hadn’t been lovers long. Connor’s body stirred at the contact, not taking it at all for granted.

  “I made love to her in my smoke form,” the sultan said.

  He’d alluded to this once before, with the same air of confession. Evidently, for the djinn of his city, having sex while not in a physical body was considered a perversion. Though the sultan had more than one unconventional erotic interest, he wasn’t necessarily proud of them.

  Connor suspected he’d rather be normal.

  “Did Yasmin dislike what you did?” he asked.

  This wasn’t a question Iksander was expecting. Color stained the golden skin over his cheekbones. “She . . . appeared satisfied with the results.”

  “And the others?”

  Iksander cleared his throat. “They too evinced pleasure.”

  “You realize having sex that way wouldn’t bother me. I don’t think it would, anyway. I suppose I’d have to try it and see.”

  Iksander’s lips parted in surprise.

  “I can’t speak for Georgie,” Connor continued, outwardly innocent but enjoying the other’s shock. “She does seem to prefer her partners vigorous. Unless you can be vigorous when you smoke. You’d know better than I on that score.”

  Iksander shut his mouth. Connor smiled. The djinni’s cheeks were bright red now.

  “You— You’re trying to make me hard,” he accused. “You know that particular topic triggers me.”

  “I’m trying to make you realize there’s nothing in your actions for me to judge. If that arouses you, I’ll count myself lucky.”

  Connor slid two fingers down the sultan’s spine, brushing his vertebrae through the silk tunic. Iksander shivered as the contact reached his tailbone.

  Connor watched him fight to accept the touch casually. “You’ll have to count your luck later. The last thing I need is stories getting back to that girl’s colleagues. Knowing the three of us are together isn’t the same as witnessing our attraction.”

  “I know I’m not as suspicious as you or Georgie, but do you really think she’ll cause trouble?”

  Iksander shrugged. “Harems run on gossip as much as sex. Yasmin might mean well, but some of the concubines won’t welcome your arrival. Also, don’t forget Georgie might not react like you. Human or djinniya, women tend not relish sharing men they care about. Najat grew up in our culture, and it didn’t appeal to her. In part, I made her my kadin to avoid hurting her.”

  Connor scratched his jaw in thought. Was Iksander correct to be concerned? Georgie had embraced the idea of her and him and Iksander being together. Would she mind if Iksander stepped outside their circle to claim his traditional rights?

  Actually . . . might Connor mind himself? Now and then he did experience jealousy. When Iksander first showed up, before Connor fell for him, he’d been unnerved that Georgie desired another man. Connor’s understanding of a harem was that diplomacy dictated who was in it more than romance. Concubines represented connections between important men. That didn’t mean they couldn’t develop real feelings. If any were in love with their master—and Iksander was lovable—they’d be even more bothered.

  These were matters to mull over. Connor preferred everyone be happy. What if, in this particular situation, that was impossible?

  Iksander was preoccupied with the contents of his own head. He patted Connor’s shoulder as if ending a conversation rather than starting one.

  “I’m going in there,” he announced, his head twisting toward the conservatory. “Those two have been alone long enough.”

  Given his own niggling of concern, Connor accompanied him. As soon as they reached the doorway, Yasmin scraped back her chair and bowed. A length of hair fell forward from her veil. Connor saw it was dark and smooth.

  “Your Majesty,” murmured the djinniya. “Forgive me. I’ve lingered here too long.”

  “It is no matter.” Iksander’s head nod was stiff but polite. “We appreciate the thoughtfulness of your errand. Perhaps, however, you have duties to get back to—?”

  “Your Majesty is gracious to remind me.” She bowed again and left the suite backwards. Her grace in retreating suggested she had practice. Connor concluded there must be a rule against the harem turning their backs on Iksander.

  “Well,” Georgie said as if her time with Yasmin had given her food for thought.

  “Are you all right?” Iksander asked. “The girl didn’t upset you?”

  “I can’t pretend I read her perfectly, but she seemed nice enough.” She waved toward the unwrapped gifts as if they flummoxed her. “These ought to be hung up before they crease. Do you have somewhere I can put them?”

  “I had the staff clear space in my closet.”

  “I’ll carry them,” Connor volunteered, every part of him delighted by the colorful, diaphanous silks. Gold embroidery ornamented them artfully, the pearls and gems that studded them as pretty as patterns on butterflies.

  Georgie laughed at his eagerness to help. “I should have known those would appeal to you.”

  When he saw Iksander’s staff had cleared half of his large closet, more happiness bubbled up. It seemed the sultan really did expect them to stay a while.

  “Look how much room!” he exclaimed, pleased for Georgie and himself. “This is way better than a drawer and a spot to stick toothbrushes!”

  Georgie lifted a small leather bag with handles. “Yasmin included those in her care package too. I think they run on magic. Iksander, you’ll have to explain how they work.”

  The sultan didn’t answer. Seeming bemused, he watched Connor hang the clothes.

  “Am I doing this right?” Connor asked.

  “I imagine so,” he said.

  “Oh boy,” Georgie chuckled. “You’re really tempting me to tease you about being waited on hand and foot.”

  Iksander raised one eyebrow. “I’m sure I’m grateful for your restraint.”

  Grinning, Georgie held out a small flower-printed tin. “Show me how to use this, please.”

  He took the tin from her and unscrewed it. A shining silver disk lay inside.

  “You place this between your teeth, bite firmly, and say the activating prayer. ‘Clean teeth are divine teeth’ is the usual formula. This particular brand is mint, I think.”

&n
bsp; “I can’t accidentally blow up my head if I do it wrong?”

  Iksander smiled. “The enchantment that infuses the disk is mild. The most you’d do is make your teeth too squeaky.”

  Georgie had reason to be cautious. Back in the human world, her spiritual gifts were slight. Here in the djinn dimension, where magic abounded, they functioned less predictably. She’d achieved results none of them expected a time or two.

  “Here,” Iksander said when she hesitated. “I’ll demonstrate.”

  The disk lit up when he said the prayer. Amusingly, at least to Connor, it left his teeth literally twinkling. He removed the device and handed it to Georgie.

  “I can use the same one?”

  “Yes, sharing is perfectly hygienic. The disk sterilizes itself.”

  Unfamiliar with speaking around the thing, Georgie said the prayer awkwardly. Connor guessed the effect was startling. She jumped when the disk lit up. It fell out into her hand.

  “It tingles,” she explained.

  Iksander smiled. “Shall I test if it worked?”

  “Pretty sure it did,” she teased back.

  He leaned in and kissed her anyway, gently molding his lips to hers. His hand went to her face, hers to his trim waist. By the time he pulled back, the air felt thicker in Connor’s lungs. Georgie’s palms settled on the sultan’s chest. To Connor, the way the sultan held Georgie’s eyes seemed the teensiest bit unsure. Iksander didn’t take her kiss for granted any more than Connor took Iksander’s touch.

  “My schedule is clear of responsibilities until the morning,” the sultan informed her. His gaze slid to Connor and back to her. “We three could . . . spend this evening as lovers.”

  Georgie rubbed Iksander’s pectorals up and down, his nipples pebbling at the treatment. “I suspect Connor would like me to try out my new clothes.”

  “I’m sure I would as well.”

  She bit her lip before breaking into a grin. “Okay, shoo you two. I’m picking my seduction outfit by myself.”

  “We could help,” Connor pointed out. “In case you need advice.”