THE SECRET CURSE

  Copyright © 2022 by Bethany Atazadeh

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For information contact : https://www.bethanyatazadeh.com

  Cover design by Stone Ridge Books

  Formatting Template : Derek Murphy

  First Edition: January 2023

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  BETHANY ATAZADEH

  GRACE HOUSE PRESS

  Copyright © 2022 by Bethany Atazadeh

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Copyright Page

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  EPILOGUE

  COMING SOON...

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  THANK YOU FOR SUPPORTING ME AND MY STORIES!

  THE STOLEN KINGDOM

  ALSO BY | BETHANY ATAZADEH

  GLOSSARY

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  1

  I WORE A DELICATE white-gold crown that signified my engagement to Prince Shem. This morning, I’d specifically chosen a white dress, and not just because it matched the crown. Embroidered gold leaves lined the neckline and hem. Shem’s fingers wove through mine, another not-so-subtle reminder of my status to the crowd around us.

  I might as well have been invisible.

  Smoothing my face, I refused to let them see how much it bothered me.

  Shem nodded politely to another group of Jinn. They flashed him smiles that sparkled as brightly as the jewels in their ears, hair, and clothing, managing to make small talk without hardly a word to me before moving on.

  We stood at the edge of the Tel Sheba Conservatory, which was an indoor garden named after the same floating island it’d been built on.

  “It’s an honor having you here with us,” Judge Baruk, the city judge of Tel Sheba, said to Shem. He took Shem’s elbow as he spoke, swiveling almost imperceptibly, until I stood on the outside of their little circle.

  When Shem tried to turn back to me, the judge added, “Perhaps, if you have a moment, we could speak privately?”

  “Anything you’d like to discuss with me, you can share in front of Jezebel,” Shem said in a gracious, but firm tone, drawing me back into the circle and looping my hand over his elbow.

  I blew out a soft breath of relief at finally being acknowledged.

  His crown looked like white fire in his black hair, somehow giving him an air of authority I couldn’t replicate, no matter how hard I tried.

  The judge bowed slightly, still not making eye contact with me. “It’s nothing. Truly. I won’t bother you with it now, when it’s almost time for your speech. Come, let’s make our way to the front.”

  Under my fingers, Shem’s muscles tensed in response, but he was too aware of Jinni politics to call attention to the slight, as I’d learned over time.

  It was like this on every one of the floating Jinni islands we’d visited so far on our engagement tour, which had been scheduled to span the last three months leading up to our wedding.

  The wedding that was meant to happen today.

  I lifted my arms, wishing I hadn’t chosen this particular dress, which clung to my skin. It was far too heavy for the humid space. The sun baked us through the glass ceiling and windows, though no one else seemed affected. Sweat dripped down my back. Even the air was damp.

  We’d been here almost an hour, and while the line of attendees at the entrance was finally dwindling, we had at least another hour of mingling with the hundreds of Jinn present, as well as Shem’s speech.

  If only I could travel briefly outside for a breath of fresh air. But the conservatory walls were spelled with a boundary against travel, making it impossible to pass through them using the Gift, like most other buildings in Jinn. The only escape was the tall doors at the opposite end of the rectangular room—too far away to slip out unnoticed.

  “This conservatory was just completed a few days ago when they filled the spring with water,” Judge Baruk said to Shem as we walked, pausing by the stream that trickled down the center of the gathering, It ended in a quiet pool full of water lilies. Pointing it out gave him an excuse to fully turn his back on me.

  Under different circumstances, I might’ve admired the space.

  Today, I could’ve sworn the tropical plants sucked all the cool air out of the room—or maybe that was the company.

  “It’s breathtaking, wouldn’t you agree, Jezebel?” Shem replied, which forced the judge to turn and reluctantly acknowledge me.

  I gave the judge a pinched smile. “Very beautiful,” I agreed, and couldn’t resist adding, “It’d make a lovely venue for a wedding.”

  Though we didn’t currently need one.

  “Oh, it’s not nearly large enough for that,” he replied smoothly, then tapped his chin. “Though it’d help a small wedding party seem larger, I suppose.”

  My cheeks burned. He clearly wasn’t referring to the prince’s lack of guests.

  “Unfortunately, that wouldn’t work for us,” Shem said, drawing me closer. “Jezebel draws quite a crowd.”

  “Apologies, I didn’t intend offense,” the judge lied to our faces as he bowed his head.

  These little victories were sweet. Shem could put the judges in their place in a way that I couldn’t.

  The win was short lived though.

  “I feel terrible that your wedding had to be delayed,” the judge said in a distinctly unapologetic tone that made me wish he was still ignoring me. “I’m sure you worry it might never happen.”

  All the time.

  “I appreciate the condolences,” was all I could say as my throat closed.

  Ever since Shem had proposed, the king, queen, and their councils—really the entire country—seemed to be against us. Jinn loved their secrets and traditions, and my very existence threatened both. After all, who was I? Just an unknown Jinni girl who’d come from a poor home with no influence to speak of. While they’d happily recognized me for saving the royal family during a dangerous moment, it was quite another thing to say I was good enough for their prince. Especially when so many more eligible Jinni daughters had vied for the position.

  They did not want me to become queen.

  “Judge Baruk,” Shem scolded with a smile, though his tone was icy. “You know as well as anyone that it’d be poor taste to hold a wedding while the Khaanevaade attacks continue to increase.”

  “I didn’t mean to suggest—”

  Shem continued as if Judge Baruk hadn’t said a word. “We don’t want to celebrate while our people are wounded. But as soon as we gain their surrender, the wedding will be rescheduled.”

  I pressed my lips together in a strained smile as Judge Baruk murmured more insincere apologies and I pretended to accept.

  Shem squeezed my fingers where I held onto his arm, and with effort, I smiled at him more warmly.

  It wasn’t his fault the wedding was delayed.

  He’d always obeyed his parents, and this instance wasn’t any different. Being a prince came before being a husband. I’d never needed him to explain that to me.

  And I wouldn’t complain either.

  The only one who wanted this wedding to take place—besides me—was Shem. I wouldn’t risk alienating him. That might be exactly what King Jubal and Queen Samaria were hoping for.

  Instead, I’d become as obedient as the prince.

  Even when it chafed.

  That’s why we were here on our thirty-fourth stop in the courtship tour, despite the painful date.

  It was also why I ignored Judge Baruk’s insults with a false smile, like I did with every other city judge ruling over the different Jinni islands.

  The tension in my shoulders crept up my neck, forming a headache. Light poured in through tall windows on all sides, making me fight the urge to squint.

  “Come.” Judge Baruk startled me out of my musings. “It’s time to begin the formalities.” He turned toward the low stage at the front of the room. It’d caught my attention when we’d first arrived because of a beautiful arch taking up the entire front half of the platform. The arch rose halfway to the tall ceiling, perfectly centered on the stage, covered in thick vines with sparkling white flowers.

  Staring at the judge as he led us to the stage, I studied his thinning gray hair and his ceremonial robes, trying to picture him treating Queen Samaria this way. Somehow, I couldn’t quite imagine it.

  As we followed, he slowed again unexpectedly, forcing me to let go of Shem or run into the judge’s back. “We timed the grand opening around your visit ,” he said, taking Shem’s arm and continuing without breaking stride. “So that we could dedicate it to the crown today.”

  The prince’s political training took over, and he fell in step with the judge, giving me a rueful glance over his shoulder.

  I trailed after them, face burning.

  Taking a deep breath, I held onto my calm expression by a thread. My goal on this tour was to demonstrate I’d make a good future queen, despite the people’s goal of proving the opposite.

  I rubbed my brow subtly, trying to ease the throbbing behind my eyes.

  At least Shem found it as frustrating as I did.

  A hush fell over the room as Judge Baruk led Shem up the two steps to the low stage. They stepped through the flowering arch, stopping in front of an iron railing.

  I faltered.

  The space was only wide enough for two people to stand—making it impossible for me to join them.

  I’d already climbed the steps, which left me standing awkwardly to the side of the arch with Shem’s four assigned Jinni Guard members, one of whom was Captain Uriel himself, as they kept a watchful eye on the crowd.

  We were obscured by the thick foliage woven through the arch, only partially in view of this ridiculous conservatory.

  As every Jinni face turned toward us, they didn’t see the prince with their future princess on his arm, but instead were met with the prince alone with their judge.

  Behind them, I went unnoticed.

  No doubt exactly what Judge Baruk intended.

  After a short foreword—which I couldn’t hear past the buzzing in my ears—he turned to let the prince speak.

  Shem immediately beckoned me forward, forcing Judge Baruk to step back, and introduced me.

  I held back tears and faked a smile at the blurry crowd as I stepped up to the railing.

  The damage was done.

  Back when Shem had proposed, I’d thought I’d finally belong somewhere.

  I gripped the railing, knuckles whitening. Each time I met unsmiling Jinni faces in the crowds, that hope faded.

  “Jezebel will make a fine queen one day,” Shem was saying.

  I managed to smile, as he thanked them for “so kindly welcoming” me.

  Dozens of narrowed eyes pinned on my face made me want to use my Gift to shift into something as small as they made me feel. Something that could scuttle away and hide, and not have to deal with these constant politics anymore.

  Pulling my shoulders back instead, I lifted my chin higher and carefully loosened my grip on the railing.

  “The royal family wants to send reassurance over the recent Khaanevaade threat,” Shem began his practiced speech. “While there are some unforeseen developments we’ve been forced to handle, we are not concerned.”

  Having heard this next part dozens of times by now, I was still impressed at the passion in his voice, as if he was saying it for the first time.

  “Though the Khaanevaade people have never intimidated the Jinn in the past, over the last several months they’ve somehow gained access to restricted Jinni magic that allows them to open daleths between the human world and our own.”

  A typical Jinni understatement.

  These Vaade burst through the portals and assaulted everyone within range, then disappeared back into hiding, closing the portals behind them. Worse—though the royal family wouldn’t admit it publicly—they seemed to be untraceable, making it impossible to find them. It forced us to defend our islands reactively.

  “There’s no rhyme or reason to their attacks. At least, none that we can see,” Shem continued, letting his gaze touch on individual Jinn around the room. He didn’t let any of his frustration over this show, though I knew it bothered him to no end.

  Personally, I thought they might be searching for something, or maybe someone. But I’d kept my opinion to myself, not wanting to seem foolish if I was wrong.

  “No one knows when or where the next attack will be.” Shem’s hands clenched at his sides briefly. He caught himself, relaxing his body. “The disruption naturally has many of you feeling anxious.”

  A better term would be dazed. Like a helpless mouse in a field staring up at a hawk, not knowing what to do. The Jinn were used to being the predators, not the prey.

  Despite the dangers, their reactions were muted. Either they’d heard this news already, which was likely, or they were practiced at keeping their emotions hidden. Probably both.

  Before this engagement tour began, all I’d known about the Vaade were the brief mentions during council meetings that made them sound insignificant. To hear those at the castle talk, one would think they were simply humans with startling eyes who disliked Jinn more than the average human.

  During these tour speeches, however, Shem painted a very different picture. “If you have the misfortune of a Vaade crossing your path, you must let the Jinni Guard handle them. You’ll recognize one instantly if you see it, by their eyes, which have an uncanny resemblance to a dragon’s.”

  As he spoke, he tugged at the ceremonial breastplate he always wore, hands drifting to check the leather buckles and gold braces along his forearms. I’d noticed weeks ago that his tour armor appeared far more functional than the usual trendy pieces he wore in the castle.

  The fidgeting was so unlike him. That was what had led me to finally start taking the Vaade seriously.

  “They’re stronger and faster than any Jinn,” he continued. “Challenging us in a way no other race in history ever has, not even the Mere in the oceans below. As one of the only creatures in existence that can threaten the Jinn, it makes them extremely dangerous.”

  As always, I scoffed inwardly, though my face remained composed. These Vaade didn’t frighten me.

  “Their senses are enhanced like dragons—besides their distinctly dragon-like eyes, their powerful hearing, and an unparalled sense of smell, their skin is also thick like scales, almost impossible to pierce. And they can leap such great distances that they almost seem to fly.”

  King Jubal called this part of the speech fearmongering, but Shem felt the people should be prepared. I had to agree.

  Behind closed doors before our tour began, Shem had revealed the Vaade race may have originally been created by a powerful Jinni—and that this history had resulted in a centuries-old power struggle between our people.

  Wanting to be the strongest creatures—to not have a higher power hovering over them like a threat—was frankly something I could understand better than I wanted to admit.

  Once Shem finished his warning, he thanked everyone for supporting our engagement, reminding them that we’d choose a new wedding date the moment the Vaade threat was extinguished.

  He made it sound like victory was imminent.

  I tried not to get my hopes up.

  As soon as Shem’s speech ended, conversation picked back up, and Judge Baruk hurried to meet us at base of the stairs, forgetting to maneuver around me in his concern. “We’d heard of these attacks, but I’d assumed the Jinn were being taken by surprise, correct? And you’re merely exaggerating the danger for the public?”

  Shem hesitated, lowering his voice. “Unfortunately, no. The Vaade raids are moving from the smaller islands to the more heavily populated. Until we can pinpoint where they’ll be next, we need every island prepared.” He leaned toward the judge, speaking softly so no one nearby would overhear. “Our Gifts don’t always seem to affect them.”

  Judge Baruk’s eyes widened. “Have they attacked any islands as large as Tel Sheba?”

  When Shem nodded, he murmured a hasty, “Please excuse me,” and disappeared within the crowd.

  Almost immediately, a nearby group of Jinn called to Shem, drawing him into conversation. We moved from one group to the next, following the paths between the flowers. Colorful Jinni eyes watched my every move, but none of them drew me into conversation beyond a greeting or a passing comment on the weather.

  Eyeing the opposite side of the room like a finish line, I held back a groan.

  Despite the heat, a sudden shiver traveled down my spine.

  If I’d actually been involved in the conversation, I might’ve missed it...

  A crackle of magic filled the air.

  2

  A SWIRLING CIRCLE OF white light the size of my palm appeared beside the stream flowing down the center of the conservatory. It looked like a hundred bolts of lightning, flashing back and forth, fighting each other, but the light grew steadily stronger—and larger—by the second.

 

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