Chapter Eighteen—The Sultan’s Inner Chambers

The sultan, strong and powerful, sat on his dressing stool wearing nothing but a loin cloth. He was in his private apartments readying for the night’s activities.

Lifting his legs, he regarded Kalina, the head servant who was going over his choice of wardrobe—a choice she had made herself. But would he approve?

Her underlings put his voluminous trousers on.

As he stood, Kalina looked at him critically. Glancing from her to the mirror behind her, Darius considered the look. His trousers were of shimmering black silk, and running down the material were gold-pressed slashes that had been stitched over them.

“Yes,” he said with a satisfied smile.

“It gives you the correct air, my sultan,” Kalina said. “Dark is the color of the heathen gods, it signifies danger, mystery and duplicitousness.”

“And the gold overlay?”

“A mark of your wealth and your power, my lord sultan.”

“Excellent.”

“Now the footwear,” she said.

The servants brought them forth. They too were black, with upturned points and rimmed in gold. The leather bottoms were pressed with gold dust and lacquered to a high sheen.

As soon as he had been shoed, Darius stood, glancing about for Jessamine, but he saw her nowhere, until his sight suddenly caught her outline outside beyond the curtains.

“Come, Jessamine.”

She strode in, her hips swaying and the jewels across her bodice tinkling along with the ones in her circlet. He had had her wear a green gown of diaphanous material. For her upper half, her breasts were covered, though mostly showing. Had it not been for the little golden cups covering her nipples, she would have been completely visible through the material.

The gown kept her shoulders and her stomach completely bare. At her waste was a heavy golden belt inlayed with sapphires and black pearls the size of an imperial mark. Her skirt, also of a diaphanous material, revealed her body for any who cared to see.

Underneath all that, Darius had allowed Jessamine to wear an undergarment scandalously devoid of material that revealed every possible speck of skin her legs had to offer.

Just glancing at her for a moment started to arouse him.

“You called?” she asked, her tone bordering on disdain, but not quite far enough to make Darius call her out on it.

Grinning, he found that he appreciated her ability to maneuver about in such a way that gave her leave to disrespect him, and yet not go so far as to anger him to the point where he would show her the consequences of her actions.

No, she would not go that far.

I have killed enough slaves in her sight for that.

“I must admit,” she said with a sigh, “you can be quite dashing, Darius.” She smiled. “I had forgotten.”

He glanced at her up and down, taking her all in. “And you look….” He let the rest hang.

Kalina came forward with his shirt. It was a short sleeved garment that showed the physique of his form, with a low neckline trimmed in thread of gold on the neck.

“A sultan of the empire must have exquisite taste,” he said. “Something I have never lacked—even during my life as an adventurer.”

“Are you really going to go through with this?” Jessamine asked. “Do you truly want the entire empire to know you are jinni bonded?”

“Yes,” he said firmly, and spread his arms, allowing Kalina and her other servants to put his coat on him.

“Far be it for me to say,” Hahkari said from the side, “but my lord sultan, I must agree with the jinni on this matter. It may be best to keep such secrets… well, secret.”

“No,” Darius said. “The whole of my empire will know my strength.”

It was necessary.

The war is being lost.

Gods be damned—he looked good in this outfit.

“The coat suits you wonderfully, my sultan,” Kalina said. “It is as I thought.”

Nodding in satisfaction, he said, “My swords.”

“May I have the honor?” Mushkah, asked.

He was not one to serve, but tonight, Darius was at his finest, and his inner council, that being Hahkari, Mushkah and his battle mage Khanassi, knew well of his plans—of the monumental announcements to take place later in the days to come.

It was fitting that his general assisted him with his swords.

Eyes connecting with that of his general’s, Darius nodded his ascent. Kalina and her servants stalled with putting on his overcoat.

Mushkah took the sword belt from Jessamine.

“Do you enjoy having unfettered access to my belongings, Darius?”

He laughed. “You are my jinni and your belongings are my belongings. The sword belt was crafted from exquisite leather, the sheath, which was of a similar material, but pressed in gold and lacquered.

Mushkah synched the belt over Darius’ waist, the black ivory of the hilt protruding forward with the red ruby, dark but still catching light visible in the pommel.

As soon as Kalina and her servants put his Jacket back on Darius unsheathed the sword in a violent stroke and swirled it about in a complex series of arcs while he jumped in a summersault, landing smoothly across the polished floor tiles.

The red-metaled blade shimmered as it caught the light of the chamber.

“You certainly look pleased with yourself,” Jessamine said as she crossed her arms.

Darius grinned, narrowing his eyes in satisfaction. “All the empire will be pleased once we make our grand appearance together in the throne chamber.”

“Ugh!” Jessamine noised.

“Do not complain,” he said. “I know you well, Jessamine—and your penchant for… theatrics.”

She made a face and glanced away.

Darius laughed out loud.

“Perhaps I will not arrive during your little ‘theater,’ leaving you stranding amongst all those eyes, who will surely think you nothing but a self-aggrandizing tyrant.”

“This, I know you will not do.”

“Why is that?”

“Because,” he said with a smile. “You know what I will do if you do not.”

“Perhaps I’ve been playing you all this time, Darius—waiting for my moment to humiliate you.”

Darius was about to speak, when Jessamine turned her head, as if he had heard something out on the balconies—but then, catching herself, played the part of ignorance.

Of course, there was nothing out on the balconies.

Shiro is here, he thought. In the palace, even now…

“You are not a sadist, my dear Jessamine. You will make your appearance, I am certain.”

With that, he smiled and left the chamber, Jessamine unable to follow, as her lamp was still in the vault, deliciously visible to anyone sneaking about the chambers where it awaited, like honey for a fly.