When Annatta was finally satisfied that he was “presentable,” Jasper was left with nothing else to do but twiddle his thumbs while she tended in turn to Ihra. What I wouldn’t give for a TV, he griped to himself.

Ihra had, not surprisingly, been more than amenable to joining him for supper. “As long as there’s good food, I’m in,” she’d agreed promptly. There were certain things one learned when growing up in an orphanage; one of them was never turning down a meal.

But as the minutes ticked by into an hour, Jasper grew restless. What the hell is taking so long? He didn’t get his answer immediately. Another half hour passed before Ihra emerged from her room, with Annatta close behind.

All signs of his rough-and-tumble friend had been thoroughly scrubbed away. Her usual leather armor had been replaced by a gauzy yellow dress, and her blonde hair had been woven into delicate tresses interlaced with deep red flowers, with the hair carefully pulled away from her small antlers in an attempt to make them more prominent. Perhaps the most striking feature, though, was the little gems that now studded the exposed skin on her arms and face. Wow, she actually looks like a noble.

The illusion was shattered the moment she opened her mouth.“I look ridiculous. Tell her I look ridiculous, Jasper.”

He laughed. “Nah, you look nice, Ihra. You look kind of like Belle if she had, well, horns,” he blurted out.

“Who?” Her eyes narrowed. “Never mind.” She lifted her arm up, prying at one of the little studded gems. “Look at me. She glued these to my skin.”

“Stop complaining - they’ll come off after a good, hot soak,” Annatta interjected.

Jasper just pointed to his hair, interlaced with strands of pearls. “I didn’t exactly escape unscathed.” He shrugged. “Besides, it’s just a dinner - it can’t be that bad.”

Ihra was still scowling as they headed out to the stables. Dapplegrim was already geared up, with a cage containing one of the dorēsah’s hatchlings securely tied to the horse’s back and it didn’t take long for Ihra to prepare Khoresh, and then they were off.

Despite what he had said - “it’s just a dinner” - the truth was he was surprisingly nervous about the dinner. A nice family dinner just wasn’t the same when you hadn’t even known two of the members existed until a few hours earlier. The dorēsah certainly did nothing to help ease his nerves. The little creatures were undeniably adorable; unfortunately, they were almost as equally annoying. With every jolt and bump, the creature squawked indignantly, firing off weak little sonar attacks that pounded, much like a kid who won’t stop kicking your seat.

Fortunately, the ride to S̆arrābī’s manor wasn’t particularly long. The palace grounds extended about a mile on the western side of the As̆rukkat, and a bit further on the eastern side, but his uncle’s manor was fortunately on the same side as his own little estate. S̆arrābī’s home was far larger, however. Nestled beneath a canopy of trees, the stately manor boasted stunning views of the salty lake, and as they drew close, Jasper even caught glimpses of brightly colored sails peaking through the canopy of leaves. The lucky bastard has a boat.

Pillared verandas wrapped every side of the home, offering spectacular views of the gardens that stretched out on either side of the home, their beds a riot of colors provided by flowers largely unfamiliar to him. Bright green trees also poked their heads up from the center of the home, revealing the hidden courtyard that most Djinn homes seemed to possess. But the true symbol of status lay in the bright blue stone from which the home was built - the same blue stone as the As̆rukkat. Wonder where they get that stuff, anyways? Wasn’t the palace built before the Djinn even arrived in the land?

As soon as the pair rode through the gates, they were swarmed with a host of helpful servants who helped them dismount, carted the dorēsah into the manor, and whisked a rather reluctant Dapplegrim and Khoresh away to the stables. It was all a bit overwhelming. Annatta had arranged for a maid to swing by his home occasionally and cook dinners on days they were around, but aside from that he and Ihra were largely left to their own devices at the manor, so Jasper had little idea how to deal with the half-dozen attentive servants that buzzed around him.

By the time he entered the manor, Jasper’s hands were clammy, not from the heat - which no longer bothered him - but from the roiling pit of uncertainty that sat in the bottom of his stomach. I’d rather fight a monster than do this, which is kind of ludicrous, he admitted to himself. Forcing a smile on his face, he followed the servants into the entry hall.

He had no sooner stepped through the hall then he found himself swept unwillingly into a hug. “Ah, you actually came.”

He struggled awkwardly against the embrace, finding to his surprise and embarrassment that he was as weak as a newborn babe compared to the arms that bound him. The arms released him, revealing his aunt. She wore a long, white dress, crafted from a rather sheer material that Jasper feared would in the right, or perhaps wrong, light be entirely too revealing. A delicate silver circlet graced her brow, holding back her bounteous blonde hair which, much like Ihra’s, had been pulled into long locks interwoven with pure white lilies. Standing back, she ran a critical eye up and down his body.

Jasper rubbed his arms ruefully, his skin still stinging from her iron grip. Man, she’s strong. Nothing like being manhandled by your aunt. “Was the invitation optional?”

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

She beamed.“Of course not. But I half-expected to have to send some of my servants to drag you over here anyways.” She ran a playful hand through his hair, toying with the pearl strands. “I see someone is up on their fashion. But not you, am I right?” she winked.

If Jasper could have blushed he would have, but he just shook his head. “Annatta suggested them.”

A genuine look of surprise crossed his aunt’s face. “Really? I wouldn’t have expected the guards to keep up on noble trends.” She shrugged. “She led you right, though. You look suitably dashing.”

“Eh, I don’t know if all the guards do, but Annatta’s a bastard like me,” he offered.

Pity flashed through her eyes. “Ah, I didn't realize she was one of those guards. No wonder she studies the fashions, then. The poor thing probably hopes one day they’ll matter for her.”

To his surprise, Jasper found himself irritated on Annatta’s behalf, but he held his tongue, not wanting to start the night off poorly. Nobody wanted to be pitied, but he knew his aunt meant no harm by her words.

Kaṣîtūma, unaware of his thoughts, dismissed him as she turned to face Ihra. The elf studied the young woman for a few tortuously long seconds until finally the first hints of a blush begin to spread across Ihra’s cheeks. “What tribe were your parents descended from?” she finally asked, abruptly.

Ihra just shook her head, brushing the hair from her eyes as it fell askew. “I don’t know. My parents and brother didn’t have any particularly strong elven features; I didn’t either, until we got trapped in the void in Als̆arratu. We managed to escape, but ever since then…” She touched her antlers awkwardly, “things have changed, I guess. I don't know why.”

The elf’s eyes flashed with recognition at the mention of Als̆arratu, but she didn’t comment on it. “Well, I’m afraid I can’t offer you any explanation, but there’s no way anyone would take you for anything but an elf now. Whatever changed must have awoken your heritage in a most unusual way.” She cocked her to the side contemplatively. “There’s something about you that seems faintly familiar, like it reminds me of someone I used to know, but I just can’t quite place it.”

“Really,” Ihra asked in surprise.

His aunt nodded. “It’s quite odd, actually. My memory is usually better than this…” she trailed off. “That’s it! When I was a child in Yammaqom, my parents occasionally hosted delegations from the other elven tribes. We once had some merchants from the most northern tribe, Nal-Halab, stay with us. That’s who you remind me of. Your features are quite similar. It’s rather unusual, though, for a Corsythian to be descended from one of them. They’re so far away that they rarely interact with the empire.”

Whatever else she might have said was cut off as a bell rang from somewhere deeper in the house. Its sonorous tones swelled in the spacious corridor, echoing off the stone walls to a nearly deafening level before they faded into silence. With a chagrined smile, Kaṣîtūma clapped her hands together. “Ah, but that is a question for another time. Come, the others will be waiting for us and I’m sure Abī is champing at the bit to get started.” The elf spun around on her heels, heading down the hall without waiting for them to respond.

Jasper hurried after her, catching quick glances at his surroundings. The hall was truly impressive. A rich, green stone, faintly resembling marble, filled the floor while the walls were made of large panels of pure white marble broken up by finely carved pillars of some rich, chestnut-colored wood. Glass panels in the coved ceiling let a flood of light into the room, making the whole place feel light and airy.

But to her, the magnificent manor was simply home, so his aunt gave him no time to stop and enjoy the view. She swept down one hallway after another, passing the large courtyard he had observed from outside, before finally leading him out onto the veranda in the back that overlooked the lake.

A low stone table was piled high with food, of every sort and variety. The crown gem of the table was the entire roast boar that straddled the center, but heaping helpings of other dishes surrounded it on all sides - a brace of brightly colored and still feathered birds, whose plumage reminded him a bit of a peacock, dozens of pies, so piping hot that steam still spiraled from the slits in their crusts, and a veritable cornucopia of other dishes, many of them strange and unfamiliar. Well, they certainly didn’t spare any expense.

What he was not expecting was the number of other guests. S̆arrābi sat on the far end of the table and beside him was the girl from earlier in the day - Jasper’s cousin. What was her name again? S̆anukkat?

The girl’s long blonde hair wasn’t woven with flowers like the others but fell loosely around her face as she crouched on the ground beside a small cage from which rattled an all-too-familiar series of shrieks. Really? How did the servants already get it there? The girl, however, seemed unbothered by the racket, cooing at the little monster.

No one else occupied any of the seats near his uncle and cousin, but that didn’t mean the table was empty. The steady staccato of conversation filled the plaza from the more than twenty guests that filled the seats closest to them, save for a single seat in the center that had been left empty.

In the sea of red skin, twisty horns, and features not quite like those he had grown up around, it took Jasper a moment to pinpoint what was unusual about the crowd. It became quite clear though, when Kaṣîtūma grabbed Ihra’s hand. Startled, his friend didn’t even have time to object before she found herself seated in the open space. The hubbub of conversation stilled as the other guests all turned to look at her.

That’s when it finally clicked. They’re all men. Every single one of the Djinn on that side of the table was a man. It was all Jasper could do to suffocate the laugh that forced its way up his throat. Holy crap - I guess it was a setup. Just not for me.

“Jasper?” Ihra glanced back at him, wide-eyed as the realization set in for her. But his aunt was already on the move. “Come,” she said. Grabbing his hand, she started down the table toward her husband, dragging him along after her. Jasper struggled for a second but quickly determined that resistance was futile. The elf’s grip was gentle but her strength was undeniable. He would have had a better chance of beating the Terminator in a fistfight than wiggling free from her grasp.

“Um, isn’t Ihra going to be sitting with us?” He threw one last gambit to the wind, hoping to free Ihra from the clutches of her would-be suitors.

His aunt laughed. “Of course not. You don’t want to deny your friend her treats, do you? She'll have her pick from some of the best lads in the House." She winked, "And presents too. Be sure to tell her not to decide too quickly." Judging from Ihra’s half-panicked expression, Jasper was willing to bet Ihra wasn’t exactly enjoying her “treats,” but he knew when he was beaten. Shoulders sagging, he allowed himself to be dragged down the table toward the rest of his “family.”