Page 49 of Bound By Wishes

She paused and reluctantly lowered her bony arm back to her side. “Get on with it,” she rasped, her voice harsh and ragged, as though her throat were lined with shards of glass.

The sick pleasure on Razoul’s face twisted my stomach as his magic coiled around his own brother. Ranen writhed in agony as his body began to disintegrate, his flesh crumbling into ash before falling to the ground in piles of black sand.

I reached for him, desperate to save him, but the magic surged between us, creating a barrier that was too strong for me to break through. My fingers hovered just inches away. Helpless tears streamed down my face as I watched the light in his eyes dim. I couldn’t lose him—not like this, not when I was starting to care for him more than I’d ever dared admit. But all I could do was watch as he was torn away from me.

I scanned the room in for anything that I could use to stop Razoul. My frantic gaze snared on the cuffs around Ranen’s wrists. A small glimmer of hope rose within me.Ranen was still my genie, and I had two wishes left. Could that magic override Razoul’s? I had to try.

“Ranen,” I said, my voice trembling as I glanced up at him. His dark, pain-filled eyes met mine. “I wish you safely back into the lamp in the cave where I found you.”

Everything in the room seemed to freeze as Ranen’s dark, smoky magic began to seep into the room, swirling around us. Razoul's frustrated roar pierced the silence, but it was useless against my wish. A wave of relief washed over me as I watched Ranen’s magic weave his body back together, mending him back to his former masculine glory.

“As you wish, sayyida.” Ranen’s deep voice, the one that made my toes curl within my slippers, returned with a commanding presence. In a puff of smoke, he vanished before my eyes, hopefully returning to the safety of the cave where I had found him.

Putting him back in his lamp may not have been the smartest move, but it was all I could think of to save him. Razoul stalked toward me with a murderous expression etched across his face. I immediately regretted not wishing us both into the lamp. But someone had to be able to release him, and I prayed that someone would be me, assuming I survived this.

“Well done.” Razoul snarled, his breath hot against my face as he yanked me forward. I planted my hands against his chest, stopping myself from crashing into him. “You may have temporarily delayed my plans for Ranen, but make no mistake, he will die. All you’ve done is delay the inevitable.”

He roughly tossed me aside, and I stumbled, barely managing to stay upright. Razoul waved his hand, signaling for the Nightshade to precede him out of the room. She castone final glance in my direction before lifting her pert partially decomposed nose in air and striding out the door.

“I’ll let you rot down here for a few days before I come back to collect you.” Razoul sneered, his teeth bared in a threatening grimace before he walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Well done, Caleena,” I muttered to myself. “In just a matter of minutes, you managed to trap Ranen in his lamp and unleash the Nightshade upon the world. Truly well done.”

The first stirrings of panic were subtle. It began with a creeping, unnerving tightness in my chest, like an invisible hand was squeezing the very breath from my lungs. My poor heart started to race, each beat a frantic thud against my ribcage. I wondered why the poor organ hadn’t given out by now. I tried to focus on my surroundings, but the torchlight did nothing to hold back the panic wrapping its hands around my throat.

A cold sweat broke out on my skin, chilling and clammy, while a dizzying lightheadedness threatened to pull me under completely. I leaned against the cool stone wall, using it as a crutch to hold me up. The room seemed to close in, and the gnawing sensation of losing control spread through me. I breathed in deep, trying to ward off the panic attack that threatened me. If I gave in now, everyone was doomed. I had to get out of this room and get to Ranen and release him from the lamp before theNightshade wreaked havoc on this poor unsuspecting world.

What plagues your mind, little sayyida? Whatever it is, be it real or imaginary, I will slay it.Ranen’s words came flooding back to me, and I clung to the memory of his strong presence, using it to anchor myself and pull me back from the edge of fear. I closed my eyes, and I could see his rugged face, leaning closer to me on the bed. He was trying to hide it, but I saw the hint of concern flickering in his intense gaze.If you will allow me to, I will sit with you until you fall back asleep.

My eyes fluttered open, and the vision of him shattered into the cold reality surrounding me. How I wished he were here with me, but he wasn’t and he never would be again unless I pulled myself together. I had to find a way out of this dungeon. My breathing slowed along with rapid pounding of my heart as my panic eased.

I rose to my feet, my legs wobbly from everything I had endured. Taking a deep breath, I scanned the room. I walked over to the door and grabbed the handle. Of course it was locked. I knelt by the door, my mind racing for a solution as panic tried to flood back in. The door before me was old, but the lock was in good shape and stubbornly holding me prisoner. I studied the lock. It was a simple pin tumbler mechanism, one my father had taught me how to pick. It wouldn’t take much to open it, if I had the right tools, but those were in my father’s worn canvas bag at the bottom of that deep pool in the cave. The memory of it, sinking beneath the cold, dark water, was almost enough to bring tears.

I glanced around the room, disappointed to find nothing but old scrolls and bottles of vile-looking liquids. Ilooked down at my elegant outfit of harem pants and a crop top, the soft, sheer fabric gently clinging to my skin. All I had was this necklace. I tugged it free, letting the delicate chain slip through my fingers, but I kept hold of the pendant. A blood-red ruby was delicately framed between two curved pieces of gold that was fashioned to look like leaves. I snapped the two leaves off the pendant and tossed the ruby aside. I wished it was steel or even silver, anything but gold. Gold was too soft, too pliable, and I wasn’t sure it would be strong enough to pick the lock. But it was all I had.

Carefully, I shaped the two leaves into makeshift picks. The gold flexed as I worked, and I hoped it would hold up long enough. I slipped the first pick into the lock, feeling for the pins. With my other hand, I pressed the second pick against the first pin, nudging it upward until I heard a soft click. The gold bent slightly, making my breath hitch as I shifted to the next pin.

My hands were slick with sweat, making everything harder. Each pin was a struggle, a delicate balancing act of holding the tension steady while the soft gold threatened to twist out of shape. By the time I reached the final pin, both picks were warped from the strain. But I couldn’t stop now. With a final, careful twist, I lifted the last pin, feeling the lock release with a satisfying click.

The door creaked open, and a wave of relief washed over me. I held up the now-useless leaf, its once-delicate beauty twisted beyond recognition. Gold may be weak, but sometimes, even the most fragile things are strong enough to get the job done. I tossed it to the ground and hurried out of the room.

I crept through the passageway, thankful the torcheswere still blazing. A sigh of relief escaped me once I made it back to the dungeon. I hurried past the grim cells and menacing torture devices that lined the walls. The rusted edges and dark stains, which I imagined to be dried blood, made my skin crawl. If Razoul caught me trying to escape, would he use those vile tools on me? I shook my head, forcing the thought away. I couldn’t dwell on that now. What I had to focus on was getting out of the palace.

I climbed the treacherous stairs carefully, wary of their damp, slick surface. The memory of nearly tumbling down them to my death flashed through my mind, causing a shudder to run through me. This time, Ranen wasn’t here to catch me if I slipped, and the thought of his strong arms not being there to save me made my heart ache. The tension winding its way through me eased once I reached the top. I was surprised that Razoul didn’t feel the need to place a guard. Apparently, he thought helpless little me couldn’t possibly escape that room. The arrogance of it almost made me laugh. He underestimated me, as many did.

My steps slowed as I entered the main halls of the palace. The cold dread that had clung to me in the dungeon began to lift as the warmth of the upper levels seeped back into my bones. The goosebumps that had prickled my skin slowly started to vanish, but it was short-lived as a guard turned the corner.

He gripped the hilt of his sword but slowly eased his hand away when he saw it was me. “What are you doing down here, princess?” he asked, his eyes venturing down, taking in the dusty and torn state of my clothes. Shock flickered in his gaze. “What happened?”

“I…I fell…” I lied, my shaky voice betraying me. “Down thestairs.” I held up my bloodied palm as proof. The edges of the wound were crusted with dried blood while the center still oozed. The memory of Razoul slicing through my palm made me wince, but I kept my gaze on the guard, hoping the injury would distract him from any suspicion.

His eyes rounded in horror at the blood. “Quickly,” he instructed, motioning me forward. “I must get you to the physician and inform the king that you have been injured at once.”

All the blood drained from my face as panic surged through me. “No!” I wailed way too loudly, judging by the shocked expression on his face. I stood up taller, forcing myself to collect the scattered remains of my composure. With a deep breath, I put back on the mask of a princess, the one Ranen had so tediously taught me to wear. “It was just a silly accident,” I said, injecting a lightness into my voice that I didn’t feel. “And I do not want my future husband to think his bride is clumsy. Take me to my servant. She’ll tend to my wound and help me get cleaned up.” I kept my tone firm, hoping my confident words would mask the desperation simmering beneath the surface.

“This is highly irregular, Your Highness. I should get the servant to come to you.” He eyed me skeptically. “You shouldn’t be anywhere near the filthy servant’s chamber.”

And just like that, his words lit my anger like a flame to a candle wick. “I don’t recall asking your opinion,” I hissed. For a fleeting moment, I wondered if my anger was intensified by the fact that I now knew they were “my” people, sharing the same lineage. “Take me to her, now.”

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