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She gave an uneasy sigh. “I do not feel as if I have any control in the situation."
He lifted the curtains so that she could go into the room. “Many years ago, Mehmet arrived here in exactly the same way, with the same fears. She has rearranged the circumstances to suit herself, as can you. Although I suspect you will handle it very differently.” He smiled.
"I would despise myself if I were to stifle my people as she does.” She looked around the room, peering into the gloomy corners at the large pottery urns where the parchments were stored for protection. “At the same time I hope we don't end up like this.” She gestured at the long-forgotten parchments that had once been loved by their creators.
"Don't doubt yourself now, Empress. It may sound strange, but Hanrah may be your ally in this, for his heart is betrothed to another."
His comment surprised her, but if it were so, he might be right.
He tipped her face up with one finger beneath her chin. “You came here to negotiate, did you not?"
He was so close. She ached for him to kiss her as he had before. It was so hard to concentrate with the yearning that built inside her, but she had to ask him the questions that flitted endlessly through her mind. “Yes, but she refused to speak with me, and apparently Hanrah has no voice of his own. She wants only the fruits of the marriage."
A wry look crossed over Amshazar's face. “I suspect that's not all she wants."
"True ... and what about the jinneyah that she has in her possession?"
"The jinneyah?"
Yes, he knew about it, she could see that, but he was also startled by her remark. “It wasn't me,” she added, “Yoshi recognized what it was."
"It is no small thing.” He grew thoughtful. “Mehmet has owned it for many years. She can be irrational, and she yearns to behold the power of this thing that she owns."
"Your words are not encouraging me,” Elishiba breathed, unable to help herself.
"You have more wit than she, Elishiba.” He broke into a grin, which helped to ease her tension.
"Your remark is very flattering, Amshazar. However, that is not what I need most at this time."
Admiration shone in his eyes. He stroked his fingers through her hair, his hand coming to rest on her bare shoulder, making her waver under the enclosing touch of his warm palm.
"The jinneyah is a particularly malevolent being, but it functions under the most basic of rules—that is what we must remember, whatever happens. By granting three wishes to the owner, the jinneyah wins her freedom. The most important thing for the owner to keep in mind is to use the third wish to once again imprison the jinneyah. Cautious owners—owners who take only two wishes—have used the immense power of the jinns successfully. But it is a dangerous undertaking. If Mehmet does resort to using it, I fear she will forget that in her lust for power."
A frown gathered on his forehead. “The conflict between Karseedia and Aleem will be nothing compared to the clouds we would live under should this jinneyah be set permanently free."
A shiver ran through Elishiba as she listened to his words.
"Remember your newfound strengths,” he said, “your fledgling sorcery. The simplest of spells can trip up your enemies if used cleverly."
He looked deep into her eyes as he spoke, and she felt her will strengthen. She remembered his healing power with the sick boy in Suzin. Was he using his sorcery on her, to help her be strong? Or was it something else?
His eyes were drinking in her face. It had an astonishing effect, as if she were turning to liquid at her center. Desire had never affected her this way, not so powerfully. She lifted her fingers to his lips and touched them lightly. “Amshazar, you fire my spirit,” she murmured, desire surging up inside her.
He took her fingers and kissed their tips, looking deep into her eyes. She tilted her head back, asking for his kiss. He offered her one—long and gentle—first brushing her lips with deft movements then reaching into her, drawing her to him.
She offered, she gave; she met his kiss with every part of her, declaring her desire for him openly. They had both waited for that kiss, that naked kiss, wherein the two of them admitted this thing between them, the power if it, its undeniable grip on them.
Her hands clutched his shoulders as their kiss grew more passionate, and his hands roved her waist and hips, his body pressed more fully against hers. He backed her toward the wall and when she felt it at her back, she gasped and his head dropped kiss her neck.
His mouth on her skin seemed to brand her, and she flamed in response, wanting him to claim her. She needed this, she needed to couple with this man who gave of himself to help her win her battle, this man who set her alight with passion.
"Make love to me, Amshazar,” she whispered. “I need it. I need you."
* * * *
It took four of Mehmet's strongest men to restrain the handsome Aleemite warrior with the shaved head. Despite the number and stature of his adversaries, he struggled and fought them with zeal. He lashed out with his fists, even though they were shackled together at the wrists. The loose chains that hung from the shackles whipped out across the stone floor of the servants’ quarters as he struggled.
Mehmet watched, amused. Her servants had long since backed away and run from the sight, cleverly hiding themselves to stay out of trouble.
