Magic Under Stone

along her head, trying to comfort her and himself at once.

She was, as always, a girl of many frivolous words but decisive physical action, smoothing her hands down the V of his chest bared by his shirt, clutching his collar, melting her lips into his.

Her kisses made him feel free, at least for that moment.

After the kiss was over, she curled against him, pressing her forehead to his collarbone like she wanted to hide away inside his skin. When he put an arm around her, she started to cry, but she choked it back quickly, as if ashamed.

“I know you can’t cry right now, Ifra,” she whispered. “I won’t cry either.” She took a deep breath. “Some people are saying Belin poisoned King Luka.”

Ifra shook his head.

“What would happen if one of his brothers took the throne instead? They’re already married! What would happen to us?”

She knew he couldn’t answer, so she didn’t ask any more questions. He let her stay with him for a long time, running his fingers through the fine strands of her hair, feeling her heart beat, before he forced her back to bed. He didn’t get any more sleep that night, but he felt a little stronger in the morning nonetheless.

THE DINING HALL, TELMIRRA

“Ifra Samra, Jinn of the Court.”

Ifra was announced, in line just behind Belin, his brothers and their wives, and Violet. Usually Ifra sat apart, but at the feast for Violet, Belin had him playing the part of the exotic and dangerous bodyguard. He suspected this might be Ilsin’s wife’s idea, because when she saw him, she smiled in a slinky way and said, “Oh, yes.” She nodded at Belin. “Your jinn dresses up so nicely.”

Ifra, of course, had been at the mercy of the servants that morning. They decked him out in a heavy necklace of gold plates, put his hair in a topknot with a golden ornament that looked like miniature stag antlers, and gave him a sword to wear at his left and a knife at his right. His shirt bared his chest. All the women in court looked at him as he made his way around the periphery of the room to the chair at Belin’s right hand. The attention made his cheeks hot, but he felt more like a character than himself, and he felt a bit of sympathy for Violet, being told she was plain and sickly. If one had to look a part, it helped to feel you could do a good job of it.

Of course, the trouble with Violet was that she hadn’t mastered the art of glamour like the other fairies. On a night like tonight, everyone was more beautiful than usual, even the servants. The fairy women wore gowns with trailing sleeves, their long necks bared like swans’, their hair gathered up with feathers or beads or streaming in waves of red or black with flowers in a contrasting color. Some men wore their hair shoulder-length and loose, others cropped it like that of the men of Lorinar, and some tied it back with more feathers and ribbons.

They came from all over the fairy kingdom, even the bearded lords of the wilder places wearing furs bedecked with beads or hide capes with painted patterns. One group of women wore knee-length dresses with skirts made from dozens of filmy layers; another group wore only green, with even green paint on their eyelids.

Violet, meanwhile, looked out of place sitting on Belin’s other side in a gown that bared her neck. She kept slouching, and Ilsin’s wife, who sat across, would whisper, “Violet!” and then lift her own chin. Violet would straighten half-heartedly. Ifra didn’t dare look at her too much, but he suspected her expression was sulky.

She wasn’t the only one, though. Clusters of beeswax candles arranged in centerpieces of holly and ivy gave a flattering light to faces, but among the many lovely, wild fairies, he noticed expressions of skepticism and hostility. Once seated at the six long tables that mirrored the rectangular shape of the walls, groups whispered to each other. The room was full of so much chatter that Ifra couldn’t hear a word of conversation beyond the fairy royal family sitting around him. Attendants, wearing vests in the deep royal shade of green, poured wine from an endless number of flagons.

There was whispering at Ifra’s table too, much of it from Ilsin and Tamin. They watched every person as they entered, scrutinizing, appraising: Did they look loyal? That one should be watched, he had never been loyal; that one was weak and you could see it in the way he carried himself. Ifra didn’t catch every word, but he got the gist. Belin himself wasn’t included in the conversation.

Tamin and Ilsin laughed.

“You two troublemakers,” Ilsin’s wife said, sipping her wine. Ilsin whispered in her ear, and she wrinkled her nose, but they both looked amused.

Ifra glanced at Belin. Belin pretended to be interested in making sure his silverware was absolutely exactly straight.

Almost every chair in the room was full now. Tamin looked at Violet. “Are you ready to be presented?”

Violet said nothing. She was clutching her wine cup with two hands but not drinking.

“It will be interesting to see what the court thinks of you,” Tamin said. “Your human blood is so obvious.”

Violet glared at him.

Ilsin’s wife smiled a bit. “Oh, now, you must admit, she’s adorable. Such a naive little thing.”

“Well, what would her human father know of our ways?” Ilsin said. “I hope you’re being patient with her, Elsana.”

“Don’t you talk about my father,” Violet said. “Do you even know who my father is? He does the bidding of the Queen of the Longest Night herself. He’s the greatest necromancer in the world.”

“Tamin,” Belin said, still looking at his forks, but his tone was low. “You’d best not provoke her. She is my future queen.”

“Very well.” Tamin briefly raised his eyebrows. “Such enthusiasm you have for her too. Of course, I can see why. That’s the trouble with being king, I suppose, you have to marry based on strategy, not beauty or intelligence.” He took his own wife’s hand and kissed it. Her smile looked a little forced. Tamin’s wife was very quiet, and Ifra sensed she wasn’t entirely comfortable with the brothers’ bickering.

Understandably so. Why was Tamin being so merciless to poor Violet? Ifra didn’t even want to meet her eyes, knowing how all this must be tearing her up.

Belin stood. “You take that back, brother!”

The noise in the room immediately died down as all heads turned to see the source of the commotion.

Tamin glanced around the room, adopting a sudden expression of confusion. He stood up and put his palms together. “Belin, Belin. Calm down. No harm was meant.”

“You slandered my future wife.”

“Belin!” Ilsin said. “Tamin was only expressing concern about her complete lack of familiarity with the court, being raised in the human world by a human father!” His voice was loud enough for everyone to hear.

Ilsin was a good actor, Ifra realized. Both brothers were. And they were trying to make Belin look like a fool in front of the entire court.

“I know you’ve been sensitive ever since Father… died so suddenly,” Tamin said. “It is funny how you seem to snap at us whenever we make any attempt to touch upon the subject.”

The whispering in the room increased once more. Belin looked furious. “I didn’t kill him!” he hissed.

Ifra cringed. Belin’s anger did nothing to improve his image. Belin might have claimed to be skilled at manipulation from a young age, but Ifra wondered about that-it seemed that he succumbed to emotion first and sense later. Ifra gave the hem of Belin’s coat a gentle tug, but it went ignored.

Tamin threw up his hands. “I would not dare make such a harsh accusation!”

“But it is awfully suspicious,” Ilsin said, rubbing his forehead, blinking as if he were hovering near some deeper emotion. He suddenly stood up too. “As soon as you bring Father this fine gift of a jinn, he dies. I know Father could be a cruel man, and some might say he deserved a taste of his own medicine, but he was still our father.”

Tamin gently squeezed Ilsin’s shoulder, and he sat back down and buried his face in his hands.

“I didn’t,” Belin protested. “He’d been sick for a long time. I’m wondering if you killed him to blackmail me.”

Tamin gave Belin a long, hurt look, and then he said, “If you’ll pardon me, brother… I just need a bit of air.”