Page 14 of Bound By Wishes

The cuffs ignited into a brighter shade of red, and I clenched my teeth as the scalding pain intensified. “We can’t exactly tell everyone what we’re doing. It would be best if everyone believed you dead…at least for now.”

“But my friends and family.” She paused, mulling over my words. “I can’t put them through that.”

“It’s too risky.” I snarled through the pain that nearly forced me to my knees.

Caleena eyed me up and down. “What’s wrong with you?”

My tongue jumbled as I tried to saynothing. I couldn’t lie to my master no matter how badly I wanted to, especiallywhen she asked me a direct question. “You are angry with me.” I answered as vaguely as possible.

Caleena stepped closer, and her anger subsided slightly, bringing with it a small measure of relief. “You’re telling me that as your master, you’re punished when I am angry with you?”

"Yes," I hissed, the word escaping between my tightly clenched teeth.

“Interesting.” She began to circle me like a vulture. “You’re in for a world of hurt then because everything about you makes me angry.”

“I promise once you help me find the book and reverse what Razoul has done, I will take you back to your camp myself,” I assured her.

She considered me for a moment, feigning indifference like I had shown her in our little flirting lesson, but I could tell by the waning pain at my wrists that her anger was subsiding.

“Fine,” she conceded, her voice weary. “But I’m done for the day. I’m exhausted and need a place to lie down.”

Once my wrists no longer felt like they were on fire, I straightened. “Very well, sayyida.”

Smoke danced at my command, the throne room dissolving into tendrils of darkness. It was replaced by a tent fit for royalty. Caleena walked over to it, running her fingers down the canvas spun with threads of black and silver.

“You don’t have to show off on my account. I’d just be happy not sleeping on the ground.” As she turned, her gaze met mine, ignited by the flickering flames of the torches. Each glimmer cast shadows across her features,accentuating the contours of her face. I shook my head. I’d been in that lamp for too long. “I’m used to roughing it,” she added.

“I’m trying to get you used to the lavish lifestyle,” I answered, exasperated.

“That’s going to take a lot of work,” she huffed. “We weren’t exactly poor. My father earned well as an archaeologist, but moving from dig site to dig site meant we were far from accustomed to comfortable living. A tent was our standard housing, and a cot and running water were a rare blessing.” She offered a fleeting smile, but it quickly faded as she caught the intensity of my gaze.

“Your father is an archaeologist too?” I asked, vaguely intrigued.

“Was,” she clarified, her tone softening. “He passed away a few years ago.”

The sadness in her eyes made me uncomfortable. I wasn’t used to people speaking openly to me. Most were too afraid to speak to me at all, let alone tell me of their families and tragedies.

“What about your mother?” I asked, trying to figure out why I was pressing the conversation.

“I never knew my mother,” she said with a shrug and pulled open the tent flap, starting to step inside. But when she noticed me following, she stopped and gave me a look over her shoulder. “What do you think you're doing?” she asked, blocking the entrance.

“Just checking the tent to make sure no snakes are slithering around,” I said with a rakish grin. “I’d hate for my sayyida to get bitten by a viper.”

I quickly recovered from my momentary shock, maskingthe unfamiliar sting of rejection. As king, I was used to having women vie for my attention, not turning me away.

She placed her palm on my chest, stopping me from going any further. My gaze followed to where her hand rested on top of my muscles. They flinched under her touch, and my grin widened. She snatched her hand away like she’d touched a furnace.

“I can handle snakes. I’ve been dealing with them my entire life,” she replied. The sharpness in her voice and the intensity in her eyes suggested that she wasn’t talking about the ones that slithered but the ones that walked upright.

“Very well, ya amar. If you need anything, just call me.” I stepped closer, and she backed further into the tent, using the shadows within as a shield.

“I won’t need anything,” she snapped, snatching the flap of the tent closed and securing the ties, locking me out.

I turned to leave, searching for another place to sleep for the night. I refused to return to my lamp, even though the inky dark thing beckoned me.

“And don’t call me your moon,” she grumbled from the other side of the tent.

“As you wish, sayyida,” I replied, a smirk playing at the corners of my mouth as I gave a playful bow.

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