Your Wish Is His Command by Judi Fennell Page A

skin. All he wanted was his freedom; not hers
taken from her. And Faruq would do it.
    He motioned for her to leave. Go back the way
she came and hide. Save herself.
    Iman didn’t even bother to shake her head.
Instead she hunched low, hiked up her dress, and slunk across the
floor to flatten herself against his side. “Give me your lantern,”
she mouthed. “I’ll keep it safe.”
    Faruq’s profile disappeared from the window…
headed in the direction of her door. The only door in her
home.
    Kal didn’t have a lot of time. He couldn’t
transport himself anywhere or the spectral Glimmer magic left
behind would lead Faruq right to him. And if he stayed here, he’d
lead Faruq right to Iman.
    “ Kal,” Iman breathed against his
ear. “I’ll hide your lantern for you. Trust me.” She pressed a
small vial into his hand. “Use this if you’re captured. It will
make you seem as if you’re dead, and then you can escape to return
for the lantern. It’s your only hope.”
    Kal knew that, but it was so hard to place his
freedom into anyone else’s hands.
    And then Faruq’s silhouette moved into the
doorway, hands on his hips, his scimitar gleaming from the caress
of the setting sun, his eunuch guards blocking out what was left of
the light. Kal shoved Iman behind one of the baskets where she
stored her food and trusted her with the lantern.
    Faruq took a step over the threshold and his
eunuch guards filed in, forming a half-circle behind him, their
knives in battle-ready position. “Did you really think you
could get away from me, Khaled?”
    Kal had hoped. He’d really hoped.
    But now his only hope was Iman’s word and her
vial of death- mimicking liquid.

 
    The Beginning
     
    City of Paradise, Sahara
Desert
    213 AD
     
    The sun slanted through the slit of an opening
his jailers called a window and Kal took another look around his
cell. It was a far cry from the luxury and comfort of his lamp. But
then, his lamp was a far cry from him. But it was safe. That’s all
that mattered.
    Well, that and the vial Iman had given him. He
hoped to all that was good in the universe that she’d truly been on
his side. That she’d really wanted to help.
    Kal shrugged, a wry smile tugging at the
corners of his mouth. He had no reason not to trust her, but if he
was wrong, he’d never know. Poison or the High Master; he’d be dead
either way.
    He flexed his fingers then grimaced. He
couldn’t flex them—not with the notched board they’d tied each one
to so he couldn’t wave his fingers, his method of conjuring magic.
They’d even bound his arms to wooden braces to prevent him from
trying to undo the restraints.
    He’d lost his gamble.
    Voices sounded outside at the end of the
corridor. Was this the day? The last one he’d ever see? Or would
his jailers torture him yet again?
    Kal took a deep breath, gearing up for what
was to come. He’d finally given up the information Faruq had wanted
that diamonds removed the cuffs.
    They’d come for him in the middle of the night
before he’d had the chance to remove the vial from its hiding
place. He’d known the pain would escalate, and there was only so
much a man—mortal or djinni—could take. It’d been bad luck that
both had happened that night.
    Footsteps sounded now. More guards than the
last twelve dozen times they’d come for him. He knew because he’d
counted. They only needed two men to torture him—well, two and the
fired poker they liked to prod him with. More men didn’t bode
well.
    He slipped the vial from the hollow in his
cheek where he’d been storing it ever since that night to beneath
his tongue. Didn’t need Faruq’s men accidentally breaking it before
he was ready to use it. But he would use it because he no
longer had anything to lose.
    The footsteps came closer, the flap of sandals
against the worn dirt as loud as a swarm of locusts over the
plains. The keys jangled. Archaic things, keys, but when magically
enhanced, as effective against