CHAPTER FORTY-SIX—THE JINNI AND THE ISEKAI

They had been hailed as villains by some, and heroes by others. But either way the situation was sliced, the one individual with the highest claim to the throne of the Abassir Empire was still Shai’na.

As the wife of the previous sultan’s brother, and with no other close familial claimants, her bid was absolute in this regard. It had been a wonder to Shiro at times why Darius had never executed her. But as had been said previously, he was not a man lacking in wisdom, and neither did he rule completely out of fear.

Even so, some of the nobles and satraps called for Jessamine to be the new leader of the empire—while still others yet wanted Shiro on the throne.

Shiro of all people! A foreigner to these lands. It was a perplexing wonder, one that Jessamine had arched a mischievous eyebrow at.

But Shiro had shaken his head in rejection of even entertaining the idea on a fanciful whime. He would never take the throne. Not only because he didn’t belong on it, but because he had no wish to rule the Abassir Empire.

Mukuma.

His homeland.

Thinking of this situation he was now in made him wonder of home, of his parents and his friends—of the Three Battles Crisis he had fought in when foreign invaders struck at the same time a coup to take the throne was erupting from underneath the suface of what most believed to be times of peace and prosperity.

With killing Darius, also came the responsibility to mend the situation.

Even now portions of the empire were positioning themselves to break away. Shiro would have said to let them go, but after the death of the sultan, an even larger problem that affected far more than just himself, had been revealed.

The war in the south.

As it was now, Shai’na sat in a wooden chair situated below the dais, a small court of her most trusted confidants advising and beseeching her with the many problems, a whole host of which concerned the empire, and many concerning individuals who were now swarming like flies, jockeying for positions of power.

Jessamine, Shiro and his friends were part of that council. Shiro could only shake his head at such dishonorable behavior.

“We require a response,” Jadu said. He was the grand vizier of the southern satrapy of Kalush. “The enemy besets us on multiple fronts.”

“How many armies do they have?”

“There are three,” he said, his hands held flat and crossed at his waste. He was respectful of Shai’na.

At least for the time being, Shiro thought. Now he needs warriors and war supplies, or else his lord’s satrapy will fall to these foreigners.

Darius’ last words were that Shiro had doomed the empire. Had he been correct? He turned his head to regard Jessamine. Her face was schooled to utter composure. Shiro nudged the lamp hanging across his waist over his snow-white jacket so that it no longer hung in his way.

Shai’na sighed.

“You must understand that the sultan is dead. His satraps and viziers have not all come to terms with this reality. Some of them are preparing for conflict against the capital.”

Jadu looked at her, his handsome feature beset by the wrinkles in his forehead. He had come to the capital expecting to find Darius, his leader—a man in command—a man who could fight wars. What he encountered was a very different situation.

“If we do not get what we need, Kalush will fall within a matter of months—perhaps sooner. May I inquire… where general Mushkah is?”

“He is dead,” Shiro said. “He died in the conflict at the palace.”

Shiro hadn’t witnessed the leader’s death, but he had heard that the smoking remains of his charred corpse had indeed been identified. The attacks of the Hajja sourcerers had been deadly and without mercy.

A clear vengeance for their captivity and mistreatment, surely.

Jadu swallowed, his eyes widening.

“Leave us,” Jessamine said.

“Leave you?” Jadu asked.

Shai’na turned to Jessamine for answer, but said nothing. When the jinni looked at her, she nodded ever so slightly and said, “The acting high vizier must convene a council of satraps and viziers to take the matter in hand.”

“Of course!” Jadu said, not arguing the point. “I pray to the gods that you come to action swiftly.” He bowed formally, turned and left with his entourage.

When the doors were shut, Shai’na glanced at Shiro and Jessamine. “Your suggestion was well timed.” She sighed heavily. “Leave us,” she told the others.

They bowed and left them alone.

Shai’na stood, rubbed a hand over her temple. “As a vizier, I am well accustomed to my daily duties administering orders over parts of Darhuun, but this… this is a whole other matter. I do not know if I have what is required of me.”

“That is why you have friends,” Shiro said.

Jessamine nodded. “I am well versed in the dealings of the highest power in the land.”

“Yes,” Shai’na said distractedly. “I will need much council in the days and weeks to come.”

“Shiro and I have no plans to leave the capital—do we?”

There was the matter of him being an isekai that he needed to confront. But how? He still had no idea what to even do, apart from perhaps visiting sorcerers and wise men that might have an inkling of understanding about where to search for answers.

And even if he found those answers, would Shiro want to go back? His family—his mother and father were waiting for him in Yukai City, but by now they must surely think him dead.

And besides, he had friends here now.

He had Jessamine.

Shiro could find a way home, but by the proper course of things. It would be dishonorable for him to leave now, after everything that had happened.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “This is the best place for me right now.”

Jessamine smiled.

I know you want to find answers, she conveyed. We will find them together.

He nodded.

“Even if the satraps are not in agreement concerning my position,” Shai’na said, “I think the first matter of business is to get them to agree to the immediate threat that faces us all.”

“Indeed,” Jessamine said. “Well said, Lady Vizier.”

Making a face, Shai’na cast her gaze about awkwardly.

“What is the matter?” Shiro asked.

“I just… Jessaine, you are a jinni.”

“Yes,” she said with an indulgent smile.

“It is difficult for me to accept you addressing me with such high esteem. You are far wiser and more experienced in many matters than I am.”

“Indeed,” Jessamine said. “But a leader does not become so because he has all the answers, but because those around him trust that he will make the right decisions—that is why a good leader takes heed of his council. In your case… her council.”

Shai’na nodded. “Yes, you are correct.”

“You are correct in that you must call the empire’s straps and viziers for a grand council. Shiro and I will support your claim, and if consensus is not met, then at least consensus concerning the war may still yet be reached.”

Shiro nodded. “Mm.”

“Then I will command my messengers to depart at once.”

“Very good,” Jessamine said.

“I have much work to attend to,” Shai’na said.

“Then we will leave you,” Shiro said. He and Jessamine bid Shai’na goodbye and left the throne chamber, which had been cleaned up, but damage to the exquisite rock and plaster still showed throughout.

Shiro climbed the stairs and started walking down one of the darkened corridors, not knowing exactly where he was going or why.

“Shiro,” Jessamine said.

“Nani?”

“Are you well?”

“Yes,” he said. “I just did not know that after killing Darius, that there would be so much more to do.”

“The Abassir Empire is a grand nation and there is always much to do. You are a central figure in its history and its future now.”

He sighed.

“It is so—whether you wish it or not. Do you regret becoming involved?”

He looked at her. “No—of course not. I would kill Darius a thousand times over if it meant saving you.”

She smirked

“What is that about?” he asked.

“You forget that it was I who killed Darius in the end, Shiro.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Ah, you are right,” he said. “Have I already forgotten? It seems everyone giving me credit for that has already changed how I see events.”

“Naturally,” she said. “You may continue to take credit.”

“Why?”

“It does me no good to be the one responsible. They will say I am an evil spirit who betrayed her master.”

She glanced off into the distance of of the corridor, a look on her face that Shiro could not quite say he knew the meaning of.

“Are you worried about something?”

She looked at him. “A jinni never worries, Shiro.” It was a barefaced lie and they both knew it, but she said the words with sweetly, and with a seductive smile. One that distracted Shiro long enough to inquire any further.

They climbed some stairs and came out into en enclosed terrace several levels above the main ground floor. Colonnades topped with arched ceilings shaded the area. As the breeze swept in, the vines crawling about the pillars and entablature swayed, giving off a wonderfully vibrant sense of the area.

Jessamine’s skirt fluttered. She wore a thin gossamer dress revealing her solid white undergarments underneath. The look was both revealing and yet not overly so when considering the high fashion of Abassir novles.

The samurai found his eyes lingering far too long.

Jessamine seemed to notice him looking at her, and he suddenly became self-conscious and looked away as she smiled ever so slightly.

Thanking the kami, Shiro was distracted from the awkward moment when he heard a splash of water from farther up ahead. Curious, he strode forward. Then he said, “You still have not told me how you survived that wound.”

“Ah.”

He looked at her. “You are not going to tell me?”

“A jinni must have her secrets.”

“Then allow me a presumption.”

“Oh—go right ahead.”

Narrowing his eyes, he attempted to find the most logical answer to his question. “You told me to put the sword in your hand.”

“Yes.”

“The sword contains healing powers.”

She laughed. “Oh, Shiro, ever so direct and blunt. Not incredibly far off from the mark, but still incorrect, my isekai adventurer.”

“Then another presumption.”

“Not today,” she said playfully.

Glancing at her with a smile, he said, “Then I will prepare myself more thoroughly next time by plying you with drink first.”

“That!” she said emphatically, “is a challenge I can accept. But it may not be the wisest of paths.”

“Why not?”

“If you will remember our time at the Gakorifa where drink took leave of your senses long before mine. You did… things that I know you would not otherwise do, even at swordpoint, Shiro.”

“Nani?!”

She said nothing, only looked at him mischievously.

“I did not!”

She laughed melodically and sauntered on. Shiro followed her as the shaded area opened up into a sun filled lounge, water reflections rippling across the polished white tiles.

“Oh!” Jessamine said as she stopped short.

As Shiro came fully into the area, he found Razul wrapping a towel around his waist, a woman fully unclothed stepping out of the pool.

“Ah, my friends!” Razul said, spreading his arms in welcome. “Come, come! This relaxing water will cool your sizzling flesh on such a hot day!”

The woman turned, barely shielding herself with a lazy hand.

Shiro’s face heated and he glanced about for something to look at while Jessamine laughed. Then said, “I see that you are enjoying yourself, you scoundrel.”

Shiro cleared his throat. “Where is Ali? I have not seen him all day.”

Thankfully the young woman picked up a linen and wrapped herself.

“Ah,” Razul said happily. “My brother is on his way. He went home early this morning so he could bring his household to the palace!”

“Oh?” Jessamine asked. “He is quite definitely making himself at home here, then.”

“Indeed,” Razul said.

“Lovely,” Jessamine drawled.

“Come now,” Razul said. “This place wouldn’t be half as fun without me and my dear brother.”

Jessamine glanced at Shiro and raised an eyebrow. “The Sultan’s party certainly was… lively—was it not?”

Razul laughed.

“From the grape vine,” Jessamine continued, “I hear you got on wonderfully in the other chambers of the palace.”

Shiro needed no more explanation to understand what she was getting at. The adventurer’s grin on Razul’s face was wide as he leaned and put an arm around the woman he had been swimming with. “I will not deny that. Come, I want you to meet Leilyn.”

They came around the pool and the dark beauty smiled by way of greeting.

Shiro nodded amicably.

“And who might you be?” Jessamine asked.

“I am…”

“She is one of the esteemed guests of the palace,” Razul said.

“Indeed,” Jessamine stressed, indicating that she knew far more than she was pretending to.

“Well,” Shiro said, “We will not trouble you any further.”

“Oh, it is no trouble,” Razul said.

“But you must take your rest, surely?” Shiro supplied. “You took a powerful wound from the sultan in our fight.”

“Ah,” Razul noised. “It is nothing.” He waved a hand. Then with a laugh, he said, “I will see you both at the private feast tonight.”

“Oh,” Jessamine said. “There is a feast planned?”

“Ineed,” Razul said. “I have just decreed it so.”

“Yes, you are making yourself at home in the palace.”

“Hey!” Razul said, mildly incensed. “I have freed our glorious empire from the choking grasp of the evil sultan. They will tell stories about me, yes!”

Jessamine laughed. “We will see. Come, Shiro—let’s allow the man who single handedly defeated Darius al Hassarani, his sorcerers and legions of Scoprion Guards to take his spoils.”

Nodding, Shiro noised his agreement.

As they walked along the terrace, the wind on Shiro’s face felt good. Jessamine stopped, turned and leaned against the rail.

Her hair fluttered in the wind.

“Well, they are having fun…” Jessamine said, and nodded back in the direction of the private swimming pool.

He nodded.

She looked at him with a strange sort of… expectation? “What?”

“You’re not as adventurous as your friend.”

Is she…?

“Are you…?”

She laughed. “We can’t become bonded by just standing here, Shiro.”

A noise came out of his throat.

Laughing, she stood up straight and sauntered to him, her fingers trailing the gold burnished rail. Jessamine smiled impishly and dragged her fingers to Shiro’s arm where she traced along the outline of the vein travelling up his arm. Her eyes met his.

Then she sauntered passed him.

Looking after her, he said, “That is not funny! Why do you tease me like this?”

She didn’t bother turning around to address him to his face. “Tease you, Shiro?”

“Yes!”

She laughed.

“And then she swooped in and thrust her sword through his chest!” Ali screamed, his face red and animated, a large chunk of bread in his left hand and a cup of wine in the other.

“Truly?” Hafza asked, her eyes wide.

“Yes!” Ali said with a smile.

Hafza glanced over at Jessamine. She said nothing, only shrugged with a very slight knowing look of bemusement on her face.

Shiro watched her reaction.

Are you tired? he conveyed.

Somewhat, she sent back. It’s been a long day.

You are not supposed to be watching for my thoughts.

Well you did ask, did you not?

Hmph!

“Ah, no,” Razul said, jabbing his forefinger at the table. “That is not what happened.”

“What?” Ali said. “What do you mean, man? I was there—you were on the floor. Out cold! You saw nothing!”

With his arm around Leilyn, Razul argued with Ali, who took his bait and they went at it, though good-naturedly

Swashbucklers knew how to get along.

For the most part.

Otherwise they would never be able to manage gathering parties to go adventuring—to work together as a team despite personal differences of opinions… and facts.

Shiro smiled as he thought back to the times when he and his own party got together for large meals and wine. He had always maintained his stoicism—not because of any personal creed, but because that was simply the way he was.

Perhaps it was cultural.

“No,” Debaku said from the end of the table. He was still wrapped in bandages. Despite the physicians and magickers working their trades on him. They had agreed that it would be best for the bandages to remain until he was fully healed. “That is not how I remember it, either.”

“Oh?” Razul asked with exaggerated gestures. “Do give us your version of events, Black Cobra.”

“My ‘version’?” he asked. “We are not speaking about ‘versions’ of events.”

“Exactly!” Ali exclaimed.

At the table was also Nusah and Naro. Nusah looked up at Ali and the others with wide eyes and the longing of a young adventurer in the making.

Unfortunately for him, Hafza sometimes treated him like she was his mother, and forbade Ali from taking him along on dangerous adventures. She had had quite an earful for Ali as well, but in the end, she had smiled, happy at the outcome they had all worked together to bring about.

The Abassir Empire—if the war could be won in the South—would be a better place—not just for the common man, but for many, and especially the palace concubines who were not free women. They would have to get used to a new way of life—to go back to their families—and in the cases where they no longer had families, would have to learn to provide for themselves.

Save for Leilyn, who Razul seemed to be rather taken with.

Shiro just hoped he wasn’t “playing.” The swashbuckling top-tier adventurer had those qualities about him. Shiro knew the type.

But he seemed sincere and only time would tell.

Naro spoke little, but was clearly enjoying the meal, and even more so that he had been invited for a dinner with friends.

“Naro!” Ali barked.

“Yessss, Master?” he asked in his characteristic rasp of a cat eye.

“You are supposed to take my side, man,” he said, gesturing to the table emphatically with a flattened hand.

“Ah! Yes! Ali is correct.”

“Oh?” Ali asked. “About what, might I ask?”

“Leave him be,” Hafza said. “You must learn to fight your own battles, my love.”

“Yes,” Razul said. “You have it right, dear sister-in-law.”

“Hey!” she rebuked. “I am not taking your side, you scoundrel!”

Razul laughed. “So cruel to your own brother.”

“Brother-in-law.”

Smiling, the chatter and banter went on as Jessamine got up from the table and quietly slipped away.

Frowning, Shiro wondered where she was going. She could only escape so far due to her lack of proximity to the lamp. Or did she simply not want to make a spectacle of herself wisping into a cloud of blue haze?

He went after her, but stopped on the edge of the room just inside the corridor. If she left the party, then she must have wanted to be—

“Shiro.”

He whirled, surprised that Debaku had gotten up to come speak to him.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “You should sit and rest.”

“I am fine, my friend. Truly.”

He nodded.

“There is something you must know.”

“What is it?” Shiro asked, taking heed of the increased air of a dire warning from Debaku that was otherwise not a common thing. “Tell me.”

“It was Jessamine who killed Darius.”

The isekai nodded. “I know this.”

“She is mortal now, Shiro.”

His eyes widened. “Nani? I mean… what?”

“Yes,” he said with a nod, and glanced after the direction Jessamine had fled. After a moment, he added, “I will tell you more in due time, if she does not choose to do so herself. Now… Go after her, you fool.”

Shiro couldn’t help but smile at his friend’s command. He nodded. “Hai!”

He left Debaku and the others and went down the corridor, the voices and laughter of his friends receding behind him.

At the end of the corridor, Shiro saw a wisp of luminescent blue smoke. There were open windows on his left, and he thought she was heading out into the courtyard below. The fronds of the palm trees rustled softly amidst the tinkle of the fountains. As he got to the stairs leading down, he caught a glimpse of Jessamine’s gossamer skirts and followed.

When he got down she was gone, but that wisp of blue smoke trailed up another set of stairs. He took pause and glanced about. The windows of the palace were alight in the darkness, the waxing moon half obscured by blue-grey clouds limned in pale light amongst the bright stars.

With the many potted plants and trees, and the tinkle of the water fountains, Shiro could have been in a desert oasis if not for the many walls and beautifully-painted domes amidts lit windows.

Increasing his speed, Shiro pursued her, refraining from calling out to Jessamine in his mind. For some reason his heart was pounding inside his chest.

Shiro made it up the stairs but stopped, unsure of which way she had run off to. But then the patter of bare feet on the tiles to his left echoed across the way.

Shiro followed those sounds into the raised corridor that overlooked the courtyard on both sides through the colonnades.

Jessamine was there, looking out through the lush green leaves of the potted plants. The corridor was fully dark, save for the light from the moon.

Slowly he came up beside her.

“Jessamine?”

She said nothing.

Stepping closer, he came up directly behind her. “What is it?” he whispered.

Suddenly she turned, facing him in the dark.

“Shiro?”

“Hai?”

What Jessamine did next surprised him.

She reached up and put her arms around Shiro’s neck and kissed him. Shocked, he almost pulled away, but the sweet warmth of her lips and the smell of her perfume enveloped his senses.

He wasn’t ready for this.

And yet…

Every part of him wanted it—had wanted it since the moment he had met her in that cold, dark dungeon in the desert.

She pulled away.

It almost seemed a tragedy as he breathed in deeply, his heart hammering in his chest as hard as it had been when he had fought Darius in the throne chamber not long ago.

She regarded his face in the dark and he wondered what she was thinking as he looked into her green eyes. Shiro embraced her. Jessamine smiled, and he leaned in and kissed her.

After a moment of this sweet enslavement, she slid her hands from his back across his upper arms where she finally put them onto his chest.

He pulled away as she gently pushed him back. Shiro swallowed. “Why have we—“

“Shhh,” she shushed, putting a finger over her lips. With a smile, her hands went to her sash. She indid it with a single pull and her dressed slackened. Then she brought her hands to her shoulders and she slipped off her dress.

She was hardly visible in the light of the moon, but what he could see of her exposed breasts made him feel dizzy.

You are beautiful.

She hummed with amusement and affection.

“Thank you.”

Closing his eyes for a moment, he breathed in deeply, enjoying her scent. He could feel the warmth of her body even though she wasn’t touching him. Shiro opened his eyes and put one hand on her hip, the other her breast.

She made a noise then—a good noise.

He kissed her on the lips, then on her chin, across her jaw and over her neck as she lifted her knee to embrace him with her body.

“Take me, Shiro,” she breathed.

It was then that the jinni and the isekai were bonded as one.