The devastation on his face echoed into the harsh silence of the room.
Eventually, he nodded tightly at her. “Too much has happened to you. The jinn. Your dad. And me — I’m not saying what you said isn’t true. I’ll have to live with that. I will give you all the space you need. And I will still be here as your friend as you go through all this crap.” He took a deliberate step forward, his voice lowering to a husky purr that knotted her stomach. “But I’m not giving up. One day, maybe next week, maybe next year… maybe ten years from now… you’ll be ready to let me in again. And I’ll be waiting, Ari. I’ll wait forever to make it right with you.” He nodded once more and brushed past her, his touch making her shiver. Her bedroom door closed behind him and she was left in the dim, lonely silence, her heart pounding hard against her ribs.
I’ll wait forever to make it right with you.
“Forever is an awfully long time.”
Chapter
Ten
LOYALTY’S BETRAYAL
“Brother, what a splendid surprise.” The Gleaming King smirked at Red as he approached the small dais.
The Red King glanced around the dark, small throne room with mock hauteur, knowing his condescension would annoy his brother. He eyed the half-naked dancing girls at his brother’s feet and sneered. “I see your plebeian tastes have not improved.”
A whoosh of violent air rushed around the Red King as his brother flew from his throne to land noiselessly inches from him. His brutal dark eyes bore into his and he felt a surge of excitement at the thought of fighting Gleaming. “Have you just come here to insult me, Red?” He spat, his muscles bulging in warning as he curled his hands into readied fists.
“No, brother. I came here to question you about your son’s whereabouts.”
Gleaming retreated, his expression thoughtful. Which son? And why does he concern you?
Dalí.
The Red King was not surprised when his brother’s features softened at the mention of his son. In this realm and all the others, it was well known Gleaming was fond of only five people, and they were all his children. What has my brilliant boy been up to now?
Not fooled by his placid smile, the Red King crossed his arms over his chest. I think you know, he growled, the anger he felt over Ari’s attack feeding into every word.
Gleaming shrugged. I may have told him about the seal. I didn’t know it was a secret.
Do you like making yourself sound like a fool?
Red… be careful. You are in my house now.
Your son has attacked the seal.
Ah, Gleaming nodded, his eyes glittering with humor. I thought that was why he left here in such an excited rush. My boy thinks he can wield the seal? Ha, he is splendid, is he not?
Fighting the impulse to eviscerate his brother, the Red King put his hands behind his back, missing the jeans he’d swapped for leather trousers when he entered Mount Qaf. He could have just slammed his hands into his jeans pockets instead of physically restraining them from wrapping around Gleaming’s throat. This particular brother always rubbed him the wrong way. All he had to do was smile and the Red King wanted to kill him. They’d had many fights in their younger years and the Red King was almost certain that Gleaming was the first one to interfere in days that were not under his jurisdiction.
Where is he?
I don’t know. He won’t answer my calls. He frowned. That’s not like him. You’ll have a difficult time finding Dalí; he’s more powerful than even he knows, and like all half-breeds, very elusive. He laughed. Little shit didn’t give me his correct address. Doesn’t even trust his own father. Could a father be any prouder than me?
The Red King rolled his eyes. You’re so twisted.
Thank you. Gleaming chuckled at his expression. Oh please, you know all about twisted, Red. If I didn’t know you for the cold, heartless, traitorous little bug you are, I would suspect you had grown fond of the seal. Even if it were true, you’d betray her in a second if Father told you to.
Cold violence settled over the Red King, and his eyes blazed an unnatural color. He attempted to ignore Gleaming’s chilling truths and tried to play on his loyalty. The White King will not be amused by Dalí’s pursuit of Ari.
It didn’t receive the reaction he’d hoped. Instead of cowering at the thought, Gleaming shrugged. I cannot control my son just as White cannot control his daughter.
Realizing Gleaming would be unmoving in this, the Red King stepped back, leaving through the peripatos without another word. Frustrated and knowing he should discuss this with his father, the Red King stepped out of the peripatos and into Azazil’s private receiving rooms. It surprised him to find his father there instead of in the throne room. He was even more surprised to discover that Azazil had turned his cold but elegantly appointed sitting room into a dark dungeon of torture. Blinking against the low candlelight, the Red King bowed to his father as he turned from towering over the human who looked so small next to the seven-and-a-half foot sultan. In his large hand, he gripped a blooded blade. Blood smeared his bare torso and dripped onto the silk of his trousers. His long white hair had been tightly roped into a braid so that it would not get in his way. By his side sat a towering instrument that looked a bit like a birdbath. Sniffing the air, the Red King knew it was hot tar. He only had to look at the small human strapped to a St. Andrew's cross to know that it was hot tar. It had burned into the man’s flesh, playing connect the dots with knife cuts and an assortment of abrasions. His face was pale and his eyelashes fluttered. He’d passed out from the pain. From the torture. The Red King wondered dispassionately what crime the human had committed.