The Conjurer (The Vine Witch #3)(70)
The old one began to speak again, so Hariq sat cross-legged on the floor near Sidra, close enough that she could smell the intoxicating fragrance of his skin. She made no objection.
“When you escaped and presumably took the dagger with you, we thought we had lost our one chance to outfox Jamra,” Rajul Hakim said through a puff of smoke. “We feared, too, for your life. But the long curl of fate had brought opportunity back to us again so that all could be restored.”
“How?” Sidra’s initial anger had receded, replaced by curiosity about how her life had become a plaything for those with the talent to deceive.
Titania spoke again. “After you freed my granddaughter, my heart would not settle until she was home with us. In the Fée lands. Her mother had already arranged a protocol for her to return on her sixteenth birthday. It was still there waiting for her in that wretched mortal’s apartment after all those years. All I needed was a little supernatural nudge to help her find it.” The fairy queen did her best to feign humility, though on her false modesty hung out of place like tarnished tinsel. “For that I stole a wish. One that brought you both to the city.”
“Wait, my wish?” Yvette stared at her grandmother in disbelief. “That was you?”
“It was still your heart’s desire, but it was I who tapped into the jinni’s magic while you were both in flux.”
Always the fair ones with their airy ideas and fuzzy lines between right and wrong. It had always seemed incongruous to Sidra that the girl could have manipulated her magic with mere desire. “But how does a Fée queen interfere with jinn magic on a whim?” she asked.
“Jinn dream, as do all creatures,” Titania said, a dangerous glint in her eye. “Their hopes, fears, desires—they float about in the ether, riding on the same currents of yearning as everyone else’s while they sleep. Those currents are where I sail my craft. I slide under men’s noses with the scent of desire, spy on lovers dreaming of kisses, and slip over ladies’ lips to give them a taste of lust. And sometimes I put the fear of death in little boys’ nightmares when they think too much of the fire and pain they hope to inflict on others.” Her face flashed to that grotesque figure for half a second. Everyone gasped except for the old one. “Yes, I’ve long maintained familiarity with the jinn mind, slipping in and out of their dream-thoughts at will. Stealing a wish from a jinni was as easy as plucking a string on a harp.”
“The Fée queen exercised a privilege few are in a position to take advantage of,” Rajul Hakim said with a nod. “But she was willing to pay for her theft, once the wish played out and her granddaughter was properly restored to her people.” The old one set his pipe aside and attempted to stand. Hariq rushed to his feet to help steady him. “I have sat too long in that cave,” he said, then shooed his assistant away once he found his balance. He took a few painfully short steps until he stood before Sidra. “The bottle, please.”
Sidra cradled the green bottle with the crystal doves in her hands. It was the most precious thing she owned, but she handed it to her adopted clan leader without hesitation.
“Such a trifling thing, is it not?” The old one held the bottle up to the light as if he might be able to peer inside. “We had lost track of Sidra yet again after the wish was stolen, except for a brief moment when she entertained the witch at a café in the city, but then Titania was good enough to let us know our jinni had been smuggled into her realm within this very vessel.” He gave the bottle a tiny shake near his ear, as if testing for the sound of something inside. “As payment for her theft”—he wagged a chastising finger at Titania—“she kept Sidra safely hidden in the Fée lands. And notified us when Jamra’s dreams lusted again for the missing relic.”
Yvette gaped at her grandmother. “Why’d you send us back if you knew that lunatic jinni was after the dagger again?”
Sidra narrowed her eyes at Rajul Hakim. “Because one doesn’t escape a lion by outrunning him. One must set a trap.”
The old one nodded. “We already had Yanis, who could do the binding. But now we also knew of a witch, a companion of yours, who could see into the shadow world. Who could snap the trap, once it had been baited properly.” The old one took the perfume locket from Elena and held it up by the chain. The two pigeon wings above his eyes knitted together as he studied the delicate glass and metal container keeping the jinni imprisoned inside. “You and the dagger were our lure,” he said to Sidra. “And now both are safe.” He held his hands out before him as if testing the weight of the perfume bottle against that of the locket. “And chaos and order remain in proper tension.”
The old one handed the locket to Hariq for safekeeping, then turned his attention to Sidra’s bottle. “I do not mind admitting how nervous I was when Jamra began smashing bottles against the floor. To think what might have happened if he’d broken this one open.”
Sidra shrugged. “I would have lost a treasure, but the world would still have been safe.”
The old one took the stopper out and shook the bottle so that whatever was inside would fall free into his hand, but his palm remained empty.
“What is the spell to remove the dagger?” he asked.
Sidra grinned so that the intricate gold design in her teeth sparkled. “Sometimes a trap works best with a decoy.” The jinni crossed the floor to stand before Yanis. The bracelets on her wrists rattled as she pushed back her sleeves. “Lift your leg.”