Out of all the rooms she’d explored on their many visits, Juva liked this one the least. Not that the throne room wasn’t an absolute marvel to behold, she just wished it was a lot less—terrifying.

But what a sight it was. She’d wager that even King Jahrom’s court couldn’t match the wealth and opulence on display here. If only the artful tapestries weren’t veiled behind an oppressive haze of smoldering psychedelic herbs, she’d actually be able to appreciate its wonder.

The smoke always made her feel a bit queasy, and she had to breathe the fumes for however long her master was engaged. She sure hoped today would be a short visit.

“Greetings, Hilla,” Tarikh said.

“Wait but a moment,” the short-statured Aftabparst said, another lizard creature sworn to Lord Khorasan’s bidding. “The master is still engaged.”

The Aftabparst could move its protruding eyes independently, and while one swiveled back to his master, the other kept a watchful gaze on Juva and Lord Tarikh.

At the back of the throne room, sprawled leisurely atop a bed of giant satin pillows, lay an enormous black and orange striped feline; Lord Khorasan. Juva could feel the low rumbling purr of the creature. The vibrations traveled through the floor and into her feet, tracing her spine, tickling the top of her crown. She shivered. Lord Khorasan was an awesome creature who could even make Lord Tarikh seem small by comparison.

But it wasn’t his size, or the claws hidden in his puffy white paws that all beings feared. Lord Khorasan was a Djinn and a very powerful one.

Still, her master never seemed fazed by the magical being. Not even when its yellow eyes, which glowed faintly, pierced the smokey atmosphere in the most foreboding way. Lord Tarikh’s stalwart confidence made Juva smile a little. His mere presence was reassuring. As long as she didn’t have to come from under his shadow, Juva could manage her quickened heart.

Surrounding the Djinn were the only non-lizard servants in the castle, the Houri. But those creatures didn’t really serve like the others did. Or, at least as far as Juva could tell. It was hard to be certain. Houri were incapable of speech or even facial expressions. Juva had never seen them do anything but lounge and vacantly stare at the lord’s guests.

They had one peculiar ability. The Houri manifested differently to different people. To one, they might appear like mermaids hewed out of brilliant white marble, while the person next to them perhaps saw a peaceful herd of stags. To Juva, however, the creatures were cruel enough to take the shape of tall, muscular demon lords lying next to, or against, the Panthera Djinn, seemingly without a care in the world.

Juva flushed when she glimpsed their shapes through the miasma of stimulating smoke. With their bleached bodies and noble air, their vacant gazes rested squarely on her.

There were also three other people in the room. Humans. One older man, well-fed looking and dressed in finery, a beautiful young woman of patrician bearing, and a man of similar age to the woman dressed in rags that didn’t hide his chiseled form.

“Great Lord, Khorasan,” the man in finery said, bowing deeply.

Khorasan yawned, white-bearded lips pulling away from an impressive set of dagger-shaped teeth. “Speak, Lord Yasuj.”

Lord Yasuj prostrated himself even lower. “Thank you, your greatness. I have come to ask for your aide, for no other can solve the crises that wrenches my poor heart and keeps me awake at night.”

“And so you keep me awake instead?” Lord Khorasan’s deep rumble carried through skin and bone.

“O-only because I have no one left to turn to, your supreme excellency.”

Khorasan snapped his jaws in annoyance. “Very well. What troubles your feeble mind, human?”

“W-well, my lord,” Yasuj stammered as he got off of his knees. “It’s these two. My wife and former champion.”

The Djinn leaned closer, his mouth becoming a feral smile. “They’re in love. Any fool can see that. So, what of it?”

“My lord, I’ve tried to be reasonable, even condoning their affair for some time. But their defiance has just grown bolder, and I find myself mocked behind my back by my own subjects. And to make matters worse, I believe they’re plotting to usurp my crown!”

“They’d mock you regardless!” the woman spat. “You’re a fool, husband. Unfit to reign!”

“Please, Princess Urmia,” the man in rags said. “Do not vex him now in the Djinn’s presence!”

Lord Yasuj sighed with exasperation. “Do you see, my lord? Do you see what I’ve had to endure? Not even the slightest bit of deference does my wife grant me.”

“Because you don’t deserve it!”

“Silence,” Lord Khorasan said in a way that made even the woman bite her tongue. His yellow eyes shifted to each of them. “I see your problem, Lord Yasuj, but I do not see why you’d come to me. This matter is easily solved by putting one or both to death.”

The woman gasped, and the man whispered a prayer to himself.

“Rightly so, Lord Khorasan. You are so wise, and the thought has occurred to me many times. But, my marriage to Princess Urmia keeps my alliance strong and the lad, well, he is my finest warrior…”

Khorasan groaned. “And so, you can’t get rid of them, but you’re also too proud to suffer their insults.”

“Y-yes, my lord.” Lord Yasuj said, his shoulders slumping. “I admit, I’m not a strong man…”

Lord Khorasan snorted. “I will credit you for your honesty, Lord Yasuj. Now, tell me what you would have me do.”

Yasuj dropped to his knees and spread his arms. “Please, Lord Djinn. Have them touch the Houri at your side so they may forget their love for each other and serve me once more.”

“No!” the princess exclaimed, struggling against her shackles, but the Marmulek guard placed a scaly hand on her shoulder and quieted her protest with a firm squeeze.

The Djinn laughed. “You really are a delightful wretch, Lord Yasuj.”

Juva listened with increasing dread. She kind of felt sorry for the lord. He looked so beaten and pale, and it wasn’t even his fault, really. Yet, they all seemed to think him pitiful and weak. And if the two really were in love, wasn’t it a great sin to take that from them?

“Your wish is easily granted,” Lord Khorasan said. “Do you have the payment?”

“I-I do,” Yasuj said with a heavy sigh.

“Good, good. Bring it here.”

Lord Yasuj took a few trembling steps up the dais to where a large offering scale stood. He reached into his long robe and grabbed something Juva couldn’t see from behind his back, but she knew what it was all the same. The Djinn only accepted one form of payment, a shard from his original container, smashed eons ago. Lord Tarikh had several shards to pay for his wishes, which he always kept on his person.

“Your payment is accepted. Your wish will now be granted.” Lord Khorasan nodded his enormous head toward the Marmulek guards, and they ushered the struggling lovers toward the marble beings.

“No, you can’t do this!” the man cried. “My love, they look just like you. They will take my desire—our love—away!”

The woman seemed surprised. “They—they look—like me?” She suddenly became misty-eyed. “Your love for me is true…” She shuddered a breath, then called out. “Have faith, love! If our hearts are true and strong, not even a Djinn could break our love.”

“I couldn’t,” the Djinn said indifferently. “And I wouldn’t want to. Leaving people with their free will is far more amusing. The Houri, however, play by different rules.”

Lord Yasuj didn’t watch as the guards pushed the doomed lovers toward the Houri. The touch was brief, barely a graze, really, but the change was dramatic. The shackled champion straightened and stared vacantly at the woman.

“Did-did it work?” Lord Yasuj asked.

The guards stepped back, allowing the two a moment to compose themselves.

Princess Urmia turned slowly. “I don’t know how I could have acted like I did,” she whispered. “I was selfish, obsessed with the crown, with power. But our alliance is far more important, my lord—my husband.” She smiled softly at the champion, who seemed to have a tougher time coming out of it. “I’m sorry, Maku, my brave warrior. But we can’t be seen in public again, though with my husband’s leave perhaps we could—”

The man ignored her. He took a few steps towards Lord Yasuj and dropped to one knee. “Forgive me my past transgressions, my lord. I was enthralled to a lie. If you’d have me, I would rush back to your service. The great state of Mahabad needs its champion, and I need redemption.”

Lord Yasuj opened his arms and ran to his champion, embracing him like one would a long-lost brother. “Maku, you’re back!” he cried and helped the stunned warrior to his feet. “Unchain this man at once! His spirit has returned to me!”

“Oh…” Tarikh muttered. “So that’s how it is…”

“M-master?”

“Nothing, Juva.”

Juva frowned and looked at the princess, who still stood alone, off to one side, clutching at her chest. Then, her gaze slowly turned to the Houri and back to Maku.

“No…” Urmia whispered, and tears welled in her eyes.

Lord Khorasan chuckled deeply. “You humans never cease to amuse me with your trifling problems. Oh, the joy of watching mortals. Your capacity to frivolously waste the few precious moments in your brief lives confounds me to no end.”

Lord Yasuj didn’t seem bothered by the Djinn’s insults. Instead, he bowed and bowed, then bowed again. “We are but humble insects in your presence, great Djinn.”

“And so you are, and so you are, Lord Yasuj.”

“With your leave, I shall return to my city and take my restored warrior with me—and my wife.”

Lord Khorasan nodded. “You can go, Lord Yasuj.”

“Thank you, Lord Djinn, and a thousand more thanks—”

“Leave!”

Tarikh and Juva gazed at the trio as the Marmulek guards escorted them through the gold-plated doors.

“So,” Lord Tarikh said as he approached the dais. “It seems like you’re doing the good work of our Lord, Demon King Hamun.”

Khorasan stopped massaging his temple. “Hm?”

Tarikh grinned. “Spreading misery through the ill-advised wishes of mortals. It’s enjoyable to watch them bring about their own doom. Not as much fun as making them suffer personally, but I appreciate all manners of demise.”

Khorasan snorted. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

Tarikh shrugged. “Why else would you entertain their follies? Just to collect the shards of your old container? I don’t even know why you’re going through the trouble. You’re free to do what you want. Go anywhere, be anything. So if not to spread misfortune, why bother?”

The Djinn sighed. “Why do people always assume that spreading catastrophe is all a Djinn does? True, misfortune follows whenever power isn’t earned, but one’s misfortune is another’s saving grace. Who is to say what the net result is? Besides, you’re wrong about me. I’d like to leave the world a better place.”

Tarikh snorted incredulously. “Is that why you’re helping a Demon Lord?”

Khorasan flashed a wide, pearly fanged grin. “I have a long-running project to offset that little blemish.”

Juva felt the ominous glee in the Djinn’s eyes, but her master just waved offhandedly. He was so brave and confident. She wished she had just an asang of his courage.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Djinn. Now, you know why I’m here.”

“Of course. You want the turnkey. Tell me, how was your last battle?”

Tarikh spread his arms. “It was glorious. The warriors of the past sure know how to fight.”

“You were able to trap their hatred then?”

“I did. Only killing the ones who were destined to lose the battle, of course, so the present and future are preserved.”

Lord Khorasan chuckled deeply. “I’m sure you behaved as expected.”

Tarikh stood proudly, hands on his hips as if basking in praise. Juva, on the other hand, didn’t feel like the Djinn was complimenting him at all. But perhaps immortals had different customs.

“I’m ready for my next battle, Djinn. I only need your key to wind up the geardial.”

“You look eager enough, but I’m tired. Humans are headache-inducing. Come back after my nap, and I shall lend you my precious key.”

Tarikh blinked. “Can’t you just give it to me now? It’s right there.” The demon pointed at a glass wall-mounted casing that displayed several trinkets, artifacts, and trophies. “I can even get it myself if you don’t mind. It’ll only take a second. Ten, tops.”

Lord Khorasan yawned. “No. Nap first, turnkey later.”

“How about I give you two shards—”

“No, young Tarikh.”

“But—”

“I said no!”

There was a sudden blinding flash followed by a steep drop onto hot sand. Juva rubbed her sore behind, but within moments, Tarikh was back on his feet. He dashed for the grand stairway, but there was another flash each time he reached the top, and he landed right back where he started.

“I can’t believe it! He just kicked us out!” He turned his wrist, where strange lines had appeared that seemed to wave and creep along the underside of his arm. “Show me your arm.”

Juva did so and was astonished to find that she, too, had the same fluctuating pattern.

“We’re marked,” Tarikh growled. “It’s impossible to get inside until he lifts the curse.”

“Master—” Juva tried to calm him, but the Demon Lord wouldn’t listen.

“I had a damned appointment!” he bellowed, holding up a sliver of parchment on which it was clearly written the date and time.

“Master, please. It’s no use. We should head back and wait for a while.”

“But I had an appointment…” Tarikh grumbled sullenly.

Juva patted his back. “I know, but we can come back in a few hours. Perhaps Lord Khorasan had something important to share with you?”

“No. He’s just being a Djinn…”

“Exactly, so let’s not trouble ourselves and just go with it. I know. Let’s head back to the tavern. Some song and drink will calm you, Master.”

And hopefully, Shakka will still be there. My poor werewolf is all alone. Don’t worry Shakka, I’m coming for you!